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Inter-Dimensional Farm Story, Part 3: To Massage A Dog by Flippers55

This episode of Jordan's story begins several days after the events of the previous two; he had spent the time learning to perform several tasks around the farm and how to use the farm's equipment, which was created with a mix of high-tech science and magic. Often, the technology went unused because Jack Northill, the father of Jordan's adopted family and the man who ran the farm, thought that convenience distracted from work ethic, and wished for his children and hired hands to exercise their work ethic on a daily basis. Jack had no problem with using the technology himself in order to avoid the less tasteful or more gross chores, but he had other, more important duties to attend to, which is how Jordan ended up in his current predicament: he had to give a massage to a dog named Pudge.

The dog, a hefty Rottweiler who had more than earned his name, had a typical black coat with a light brown underbelly that was typical for his breed. He was rather old for a farm dog, and was known for being lazy and somewhat crotchety; he was well-loved by everyone on the farm, and crossing him in any way would invite swift and admittedly excessive repercussions.

It had been decided that Pudge was to be Jordan's partner, a role that gave him actual seniority over the boy, as well as the power to direct and punish him as the dog saw fit; it was the maximum amount of power Jack would give to him, and it promised to be a somewhat unpleasant experience for Jordan. Pudge always meant well, but in the end, the dog was known for being an enormous pain to his human partners, micro or otherwise.

The dog spoke in a British accent, and even acknowledged the disgusted groan Jordan gave when he learned how he was supposed to become acquainted with his new partner.

"Oh, Jordan, my dear boy. It may be unpleasant, but you'll just have to put your courage to the sticking place and proceed onward, because it is necessary."

"Uh... yes, sir." Jordan nodded, adding to himself under his breath, "and even if it isn't necessary, you're still going to make me do it." If the dog heard, he didn't acknowledge the boy's comment.

To be specific, Jordan's job was to give the roly-poly Rottweiler a massage -- whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted. Considering that just watching the dog walk around the farm could make him shudder, actually having to deal with all that fat up close was going to be a very unpleasant experience.

"Can you start with my belly? It's been a little bit grumbly lately, and I'd like you to work it over a little." Pudge said, waddling over to the center of the room.

"Uh... certainly, sir."

When the boy hesitated, it took approximately a second for the dog to notice, and it earned him a light reprimand when he found himself momentarily buried under the canine's low-hanging belly "I guess that's why he's called Pudge..."

After a few seconds, the dog ambled away from him, back towards the room's center, and the small human quickly got up and got on his back under the dog's belly, as one gets under the bottom of a car, grimacing as it jiggled from his touch.

He reached his arms up and started the massage, his hands sinking deep into the furry belly to the point where they almost couldn't be seen, and rubbing his hands back and forth in a 'wax on, wax off' motion as Pudge groaned in pleasure. It took a lot of work to massage Pudge this way, but he knew that if he didn't, the alternative would be considerably nastier for him.

About ten minutes later, the dog spoke up: "I think I will take a nap, Jordan, but you keep doing that as best you can."

"What? But... no! Mmmfff!" Jordan's voice became muffled as Pudge lied down on him, totally burying him underneath the enormous belly and pinning him to the ground.

Though the work was difficult and he had been sweating, the boy soon found himself covered in dog sweat; there was an overpowering stink of body odor, and eventually he ran out of energy to massage the dog with and fell asleep from sheer fatigue.

An hour later, Jordan awoke as Pudge relieved his weighty belly from the boy's body, at which point he immediately began gasping for breath, thankful for air that didn't stink of overpowering dog B.O.

"Why, Jordan! You stopped massaging me after about twenty minutes." He briefly admonished. "I hope you enjoyed your rest, because now I'm going to need you to give my rear end a bit of a work-up."

Thanks to the farm's serviceable meld of magic and science, a table suddenly appeared in the center of the room that was just the right size for Pudge to lay on, and just the right height for his enormously pudgy butt to be at Jordan's eye level.

The boy got up, shook himself off, and groaned. "Pudge... really? Do I have to massage your ass, too? .... Well, I guess it can't get much worse than being stuck under your belly for over an hour."

"I'd be careful about cussing around me, if I were you." Pudge said. "I react rather poorly to such crass language. Now, mind that you don't stop the massage until I give you the order; I might have a bit of gas. I suppose that you'll just have to just, as you kids say, 'deal'."

Jordan stared at the big dog butt resentfully; it reeked of B.O. and dog poop, and he could see some dark brown streaks in-between Pudge's enormous rump cheeks as the dog settled himself down on the table. He shuddered from sheer disgust.

The boy's hands immediately sunk into Pudge's butt fat, rubbing up and down in a way that made the dog's rear shake in a very unappealing manner. "Man," he muttered to himself, "this dog is gross! How can anyone even stand to walk behind him?"

Not a second later, Pudge's butthole opened up and released an incredibly voluminous, wet dog fart that ruffled Jordan's hair and pushed him back a step. It stank like dog poop and dry kibble, and made him nauseated; he coughed and covered his nose, trying to clear his head and somehow avoid the fart cloud that had suddenly engulfed him, courtesy of Pudge.

The dog laughed a deep, booming laugh, but Jordan did not respond in kind. Farts can be funny, but the humor is not going to strike one who is stuck behind a huge dog's butt at point-blank range.

"Oh God, Pudge: this stinks! Couldn't you at least give me some warning before you do that?"

"I apologize, little Jordan, but I cannot be held responsible for my body's natural processes. Now, you must continue the massage; if I stink, you'll just have to get used to it. We'll be working in close quarters soon enough as it is."

"So, in other words," Jordan thought to himself, "you're one smelly motherfucker, and I'll just have to deal."

His hands once more began rubbing Pudge's weighty posterior, causing the dog to relax his sphincter and release even more stinky farts. Having a dog fart in an enclosed room is bad enough when the dog only weighs as much as you do; when the dog weighs several tons, the stink and hang time are multiplied, and the boy ended up struggling to operate through a cloud of voluminous farts.

Eventually, the dog ended up giving a little bit of a shart, covering the boy's hands in steaming, liquid poo.

Jordan gagged, and then whispered under his breath, about as shocked and disgusted as one would expect. "Oh, you stinking motherfucker! Yuck!"

"You're going to be sorry you said that, my young charge... but not now. Now, you will separate my cheeks and proceed to rub the area in-between them. I suggest you don't hesitate or pause in this action, as the consequence would be truly dire."

Covered in wet dog shit, Jordan responded by indignantly storming out of the room before Pudge even realized that he'd left, cussing under his breath and thinking about how truly abominable the Rottweiler's behavior was. He planned to report this behavior to Jack immediately.

"Jordan! What the hell are you covered in? You stink, kid!"

When Jordan complained to Jack about what had happened, Jack responded with booming laughter.

"Look, kid: you're a victim of a tradition that has been around longer than this farm, and in coming to me, you've broken the status quo. Now, you're going to have to be very soundly and thoroughly punished, or the rest of the farm is going to do with you as they see fit."

When Jack told Jordan of his specific punishment, the boy's face drained white. "Oh God, that's... that's disgusting!"

"That's the point, kid."

Inter-Dimensional Farm Story, Part 3: To Massage A Dog


1 September 2014 at 02:34:42 MDT

Warning: fetishy content. Read the tags or you're an idiot.

Part 3 to IDFS; I really need to add more of a variety of fetishy content in this stuff, because all of the thumbnails say basically the same thing -- farts, fat ferals, face-sitting / butt-squishing. It's a pretty dull and oddly specific list.

Part 1:
Part 2:
Part 3:

Submission Information

Literary / Story