Dog Man Novels & Stories

Then, a man swooped down like thunder and lightning. 'F*ck, who is that?' Darryl tilted his head to look; he was stupefied! The man had golden armor on him. The man seemed to be around 30 years old, and he had sharp features. His sword-like eyebrows and glistering eyes added to his unspeakably handsome look. The golden armor on his tall and upright figure exuded a masculine aura! However, it seemed like the man was on a dog. Darryl lowered his gaze in shock when he noticed the man rode on a big black dog. It was a huge dog—perhaps about three meters lengthwise. It looked ferocious, and it had a mouthful of fangs.

(Warning: This chapter contains inappropriate words. If you're not comfortable reading it kindly skip it and move to another chapter) Crystal tried to push the man away, but he was like a brick house. “You can’t escape,” he said. “But if you show these dogs a little enthusiasm, we’ll let you go.” Behind the lights, Crystal could hear Richard laughing. He sounded like a madman or a villain from a comic book, like The Joker or Madcap. “If you are good to the dogs, they will be good to you,” the man continued. “They don’t want to bite you. They only want to fuck you.” Crystal wrapped her arms around her knees.

[Max’s POV] Damen is the devil himself! I love that man. I had not expected to take it this far already with our little mate, as she is human, and I am fighting so hard to not freak her out. Then, here comes Damen with his dark brilliance, bringing our mate to sit on my lap so we can play. Dominic (Dom), my wolf, is pacing in anticipation to complete our bond with her, as I am trying to reason with him that she is not ready, yet he insists she is.

So why is she interested in dog breeds? As he was wondering, Keegan began to watch the video. By the time he finished the video, he was speechless. Unimaginable emotions arose within Keegan after he saw a man acting effeminate in the video, calling out "honey" in a childlike voice. It was worse when he saw a topless man wearing a collar and said, "I want to sleep with you, darling," with a vocal fry. 'Golden Retriever type? German Shepherd type? Dogs???'

She winked †*†*† That Saturday morning, I arrived at the pound quick early. That was one thing about me. Always on time. I met a guy who showed me the way to the boss office. In there, he kept talking about how good it feels to have a dog. " So why do you want one?" The guy, Brad asked. " My best friend said I should get one to keep me company and it's kinda like a therapy thing." I replied. He nodded and said we can go ahead to check the dogs out.

"I... I have them. If you don't believe her, I can—" "No!" Tracey screamed, lunging to stop him, but it was too late. The sharp click of the car unlocking sealed her fate. I threw open the trunk. The stench hit me first. Then I saw it—a small, lifeless dog, its body limp and decaying. Puffy. Peter stumbled back, his face white as a sheet. "Tracey... Puffy... why is... why is Puffy here?" The live stream exploded. Comments poured in, furious and relentless:

A tall, thin man with dark blonde hair and blue eyes framed with circular, silver glasses walks out in a t-shirt and jogging shorts with what is arguably the most beautiful dog I've seen in my entire life. Concerns about my first impressions are gone and I let out an embarrassing squeal as I rush towards the dog. The man startles and pulls on the leash, pulling the dog back towards him. The movement makes me realize what a psychopath I probably look like and I halt my steps at the end of his walkway.

The man seemed to be growing frustrated, and I had to choke down a chuckle as the dog cocked his enormous head and whined again. “Is he a show dog?” I asked, nodding toward the husky. The man finally looked up from his dog, but only to glare at me. “Excuse me?” “A show dog.” I felt heat creep up my neck, even though it was supposed to be an innocent question. “He’s really beautiful. And quite large, even for a husky.” “Oh.” The man shrugged and said, “No. He’s just a… rare breed.” My eyebrows shot up at that. “What breed?”

“Meow, your master is finally back. Quick, come over here. I’ll take you to him.” In the blink of an eye, both the man and dog came to a halt in front of Myra and Tony. Similarly, the man looked handsome, but compared to Tony, he had an air of unruliness toward him. He obviously looked like a hippy from a rich family living in defiance of conventions. However, Myra was not paying attention to the man; instead, she was focused… on the dog. The Samoyed was large and fat with clean fur. The man led it in front of Tony and it lifted its front paws to lean against its owner. Its tongue was wagging in excitement and it seemed as though it would lick Tony’s face in a friendly way!

With his enormous snout, he sniffs at me, bobbing his head slightly as if asking for a taste of what I have. I reward him with the treats I've brought, which are dried cattle femurs—a bone that would typically last an average dog a year, but this behemoth could demolish in under twenty minutes. As I toss it as far as I can into the yard, Dean limps around the corner of the house, looking taken aback. "What on earth happened to him?" Dean asks, bewildered. "What do you mean, isn't that the same dog?" I respond, equally baffled.