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Message-ID: <38759asstr$1034464202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "John Smith" <kunga5678@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Emily and King - The Prelude  (F/dog, best, nosex...yet!)
Date: Sat, 12 Oct 2002 19:10:02 -0400
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Emily and King- The Prelude

Emily Stevens didn't realize the effect she had on men.  To call her
sexually inexperienced would be inadequate.she had that rarest of qualities:
sexual innocence.  If asked, Emily would probably describe herself as
'plain.'  If you pressed her, she might ultimately admit, blushing, that she
thought her ass was a little too big, and that her tits were smallish.  (Of
course, she would never use the word 'ass' or 'tits.')  Emily's point of
reference, of course, were the silicone and air-brush fantasies on magazine
covers.  By that standard, her self-assessment had an ounce of truth.  Her
chest was a small C, each breast a round handful with just a bit of natural
sag.  She had prominent tan lines that she disliked, but she was too
embarrassed to go to the tanning bed nude.  Nobody was likely to see her
breasts any time soon, Emily reasoned.  Her overall figure was flush and
feminine; she was undeniably 'girl,' and singularly beautiful.  Her face had
a fresh-scrubbed prettiness, framed perfectly by her soft brown hair.  A bit
of baby fat gave her cute dimples whenever she smiled (which was often) and
made her look even younger than her twenty years.  Emily believed her
'behind' was nothing like the girls she saw on magazines-and she was right
about that.   Her slim waist tapered to a gorgeous, perfectly-round ass that
turned heads and dropped jaws.  But as impressive as her butt was, Emily's
best feature was her eyes.  They were bright and green, and whenever she
smiled at a man, that look burned into his memory, conjuring memories of
first-loves and the girl next door.  A man favored by Emily Stevens' smile
would invariably find himself desiring to make her happy, to take care of
her, anything to see that smile again.  She had had her share of suitors, of
course, but she had subtly rebuffed them all, invariably turning them into
friends who would do anything for her, and who wondered in consternation
where they had taken the wrong step that had landed them so securely in the
'friend-zone.'  The truth was, the only guys Emily had allowed near enough
to her to even become friends were so 'safe' as to be almost asexual.
Without ever planning to, Emily had protected her chastity by stringing
along a series of flaccid wimps who were too passive to initiate even the
most innocent sexual advances.  Consciously, Emily wondered why no one
desired her.  Subconsciously, she longed for real masculinity that she could
finally surrender to.


Working at the Animal Shelter was a shit job.  It was boring work,
punctuated by moments of grossness, all for lousy money.  Then again, high
school students everywhere work shit jobs for lousy money, and Pete Masters
was no exception.  Pete had only been working at the shelter three weeks and
already he was thinking about quitting.  Actually, the first time he had
considered quitting was on his first day of work, when his supervisor had
demonstrated the process of cleaning dog shit out of the kennel cages.  The
job's saving grace could potentially have been the chance to be with animals
all day, but Pete hated animals (except, of course, for the human female
animal).  Like any fifteen year-old boy, Pete's predominant fixation was
thinking about sex.  Unfortunately for Pete, Pete was a dork.  Girls his age
didn't give him the time of day.  He was in that pimply-faced,
voice-cracking stage when teenage boys seem to be all gangly, uncoordinated
joints.  Worse still, Pete was neither athletic nor particularly
intelligent.  Perhaps that's why he spent his afternoons working at an
Animal Shelter despite hating animals.
This afternoon, Pete was happily entertaining himself with a fantasy
involving Wendy Smith (the head cheerleader at his high school) and Mr.
Carlyle, the school's crazy black janitor.  He was just considering going to
the bathroom to masturbate when he heard the bell above the front door
announce a visitor.  Pete looked up to see a beautiful girl in a college
sweater enter the reception area.
"Hi," the girl said, "My name's Emily Stevens."  She flashed a smile and
immediately Pete knew that Emily would be supplying his mental fantasies for
a long time to come.
"Pete," Pete said shakily, taking her proffered hand with his own suddenly
clammy palm.
"Umm, I'd like to see the dogs," Emily began, "That is, I'm thinking about
getting a dog, but I.," she faltered and bit her lip becomingly, "I can't
afford to pay for one."
"That's no problem," Pete said, "Animals from the shelter are free to a good
home.  Right this way and I'll show you the dogs we're trying to place."


 "They're so beautiful," Emily said almost in a whisper. She was leaning
forward with her hands on her knees, her nose nearly touching the cage in
front of her.
 "Yeah," Pete said dumbly.  He wasn't paying any attention to the five
squint-eyed Labrador puppies that had so transfixed Emily.  Actually, he
wasn't paying attention to what Emily was saying either.  He had just one
thing on his mind.  He had strategically positioned himself directly behind
her, hoping to get another look at that magnificent ass he had first noticed
when he had 'allowed' her to walk in front of him to the kennel area.  But
he hadn't anticipated her bending over like this!  The twin hemispheres of
her butt were jutting provocatively outward, practically right under his
nose.  The pose seemed overtly sensual.  Does she realize what she's doing?!
Pete thought incredulously.  Emily's underwear was visible above her shorts
when she bent over.  Powder blue, Pete noted.  With his eyes, Pete traced
the panty line, visible through the thin cotton of her shorts, to where the
line converged at the junction of her legs.  It took little imagination for
Pete to picture Emily wearing nothing but those powder-blue panties.  Then
he imagined her stripping them slowly off.  Pete felt his cock begin to
harden inside his jeans.  For the millionth time, Pete decided there was no
crueler irony than growing up a high-school kid in a college town.  Yeah,
she knows exactly what she's doing, he thought.
 Emily interrupted Pete's reverie, "How old are they?"


 "Uhhh, they're, uh, six weeks."
 Emily thought Pete seemed flustered, and in passing, she wondered why.  Her
attention quickly returned to the puppies in front of her, however.  Unlike
Pete, Emily loved animals.  Each successive dog Pete had shown her she had
fallen more in love with than the last---the puppies most of all.  She
watched as one puppy separated from the others and tottered shakily towards
her.  Each leg seemed to be trying to go in a different direction.  Emily
admired the puppy's downy fur, cute wet nose, and the tail that seemed to be
in perpetual motion.  The puppy stopped to sniff the air as it neared her
face.  Abruptly, its two hind legs buckled and it sort-of sat down.  Emily
was smitten.  She wanted to take that puppy home.
 "These are pretty much the last dogs we've got, Ms. Stevens," Pete said,
"Have you seen any you'd like to keep?"
 "Oh, I love all of them," Emily gushed, "how do I choose?"
 "Well, the puppies are sure cute, no denying that," Pete said, "But a puppy
is a lot of work.  That golden retriever you saw earlier is housebroken and
real obedient, and of course there's that collie that you liked so much. It'
s really up to you."
 Emily took another longing glance at the puppy.  She couldn't decide.  "And
you're sure these are the last dogs here?" she asked, procrastinating.
 Pete shifted his weight uncomfortably.  "Well."
 "What?"
 "There is one more dog, but not one that you'd want."  Pete seemed to want
to change the subject.
 "Why not?" Emily asked, "Where is it?"
 "He's, uh.it's out back.  Listen, Ms. Stevens, this dog is ugly and mean.
And it's actually scheduled to be destroyed tomorrow."
 "Destroyed?" Emily asked quietly.
 "Yeah, you know, put down.  It's really for the best.  Nobody is going to
want this dog.
 Emily cut him off.  "I want to see him," she said sharply.  Pete was about
to protest further, but seeing the firmness of her expression, he shrugged,
and lead her to the back door of the shelter.


 "See what I mean?" Pete said, half-shouting over the dog's incessant angry
barking.  Emily looked doubtful.  She couldn't deny that she did see what
Pete meant.  The dog in the cage was a truly fearsome animal.  Though it was
obviously a mutt, Emily couldn't even tell which breeds were prominent in
its bloodlines.  She thought she detected some Great Dane and perhaps some
pit bull as well.  The dog was simply huge, whatever it was.  And there was
clearly no love lost between the dog and Pete.  It had begun barking at Pete
the moment they had approached the cage, and it hadn't paused once yet.
The dog's barking was punctuated by a low, dangerous growl, and its lips
were pulled back, revealing the teeth in a ferocious snarl.  The dog, which
was actually chained to the back fence of the cage so that it couldn't quite
reach the front, was repeatedly throwing all its weight against the chain,
as if trying to leap at Pete.  It looked like something from a nightmare.
Pete looked sick.  "Can we leave now?" he asked.
Part of Emily was screaming at her to do exactly that-to get away from this
terrible dog as quickly as possible and take home a nice, safe puppy.  But
one word kept flashing through her mind.  Destroyed.  Mustering courage she
didn't feel, Emily took a deep breath and said, "I want to go in the cage."
Pete looked as if he'd been struck, "Are you nuts?!"
Emily rounded on him, her nervous energy turning easily into a flash of
anger, "Look, he's chained up anyway, right?  So just unlock that gate and
get away from it because he's barking at you not me."  Pete looked
impassive.  Finally, Emily said,  "I'm not going to let the dog bite me.  I
just want to seem if I can calm him."
Pete sighed in surrender, ("Its your funeral.") and warily approached the
gate to unlock it.  The dog went absolutely berserk at that, throwing itself
with renewed fury against the chain again and again.  It must really be
hurting itself, Emily thought, Oh, what am I doing?  Too late to back out
now, she told herself.  Pete finished removing the padlock and pulled the
gate open.  Only the chain around its neck was now keeping the dog at bay.
"Now back away," Emily commanded, and Pete obeyed readily.  Seeing his enemy
retreat, the dog seemed partially mollified.  The barking subsided to a low,
constant growl, though the ears were still folded back and his eyes were
still fixed on Pete.  Emily steeled herself.  It's now or never, she
thought.  She took a step towards the cage.  Sensing the movement.  The dog
finally shifted its attention to Emily.  It barked twice, as if in warning,
and the growl continued.  Emily froze.  She swallowed hard, then cleared her
throat, "Its ok," she said loudly, as if trying to convince herself, "I'm
not going to hurt you."  As if he's worried about me hurting him!
Nevertheless, at the sound of her voice, the dog's ears perked up and the
growling suddenly stopped.  It seemed to be sizing her up.  Emily took
another deep breath, and then another step towards the cage.  The dog cocked
his head to one side and continued to watch her, but otherwise did nothing.
Slowly gaining confidence, Emily moved closer to the cage.  She was at the
open gate now; the dog was just a few feet from where she stood.  She could
practically reach out and touch him now.  But as she reached out to do
exactly that, the dog suddenly shied away.  It lowered back on its haunches
and began to growl again, menacingly this time.  Emily's hand froze in
mid-air.  "It's ok," she whispered to him, and she kept repeating it in what
she hoped was a soothing voice, "It's ok, it's ok."
Knowing the dog would be able to bite her if she moved any closer, Emily
nevertheless moved her hand ever so slowly towards the dog's nose.  He now
made a motion towards her and she resisted the urge to flinch back.
Cautiously, the dog sniffed her hand, drinking in her scent.  As he sniffed
her hand, Emily's fingers softly stroked the dog's nose.  He snorted.  Emily
was pretty sure she had tickled him.  She brought her other hand forward
now, making sure the dog saw her movement, not wanting to surprise him.  She
then allowed the dog to sniff that hand while she began to gently scratch
behind his ears with the other.  Softly at first, she quickly scratched more
vigorously as he leaned his head into her fingers.  Before long, she had his
whole head in both her hands, and then she was stroking all long the length
of his back.  No dog can resist being scratched behind the ears, she
thought.  Now that she felt momentarily safe, Emily examined the dog more
carefully.  The dog's sheer size overwhelmed her.  She had known he was big
when she first saw him, but to be right next to him, completely vulnerable
should he attack, Emily found oddly exhilarating.  He stood at least three
feet at the shoulder, and though his ribs stuck out prominently, Emily could
still see the powerful muscles of his flank and shoulders, and imagined how
they would fill out on a healthy diet.  He would be a singularly magnificent
animal.  Between his hind legs, Emily saw the proud confirmation that the
dog was decidedly male.  His large, black testicles hung brazenly, swaying
slightly when he moved.  This display of masculinity made Emily
uncomfortable, yet her eyes repeatedly found themselves returning to the
same spot between his legs.  She felt herself starting to blush. He's
filthy, she said to herself, eager to think about something else.  The dog's
coat was matted with grime, so much so that it was difficult to tell what
color its fur really was.  "You need a bath," Emily said playfully, her face
just inches from the dog's.  The dog snorted and made a questioning noise,
then responded by beginning to bathe Emily's face with his long, pink
tongue.  Emily rewarded him with her unforgettable smile, the tension
flowing slowly out of her at the friendly gesture of the dog's kiss.  She
noticed a small leather tag on the chain around his neck, and examined it to
find a name.  Etched into the leather in a children's scrawl was a single
word.
"King," Emily said aloud, at which King seemed to cock his head in
recognition.  "King," Emily continued, "You're coming home with me."  Emily
was momentarily surprised at herself for the abruptness of the decision, but
part of her had known she would be taking this dog from the moment she heard
it was to be destroyed.  King just stretched the muscles of his face in a
wide yawn, showing off those dangerous teeth, then sat down and crossed his
paws, as if to say, 'I knew all along.'
"So you actually want to keep this mutt?" Pete asked finally.  He had spent
the last several minutes trying to figure out why the psycho-dog hadn't
eaten this college girl yet.  At this point, he was bored and eager to get
back to his fantasies.
Hearing the voice of his nemesis, King resumed his low growl and fixed his
stare on Pete.  With her hand on his side, Emily could feel the baritone
growl emanating from deep within his chest.  Where she had found it terrible
just moments before, she now found it endearing.  He's just protective, she
thought, what a fine guard dog he'll make.
"That's right," Emily said, "I want this one."
Pete seemed disgusted.  "Whatever.  Let me go get the paperwork.  The
Shelter will neuter it for you free of charge if you want."
"No!" Emily almost shouted, cutting him off sharply.  She continued,
flustered, "That is, I.that won't be necessary, thank you."  Emily tried to
figure out why she had reacted so strongly.  It was some sort of visceral
reaction.  Her thoughts were interrupted however, because King chose that
moment to resume his tongue-bath of her face and neck.  Emily giggled.
Pete shook his head in wonderment as he went to get the paperwork.  Lucky
fucking dog, he thought.


Definitely to be continued.  I welcome comments and/or suggestions.
Kunga5678@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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