grabby paws at trans bears
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Seth stomped off his boots on the mat by the front door, the mud that had managed to dry flaking off, but overall the action was useless. Besides, he cleaned up his boots in a different way.
Still, it was a nice ritual to have right before pushing through his front door, and it was a good signal to anyone inside that he was home. Seth paused a moment longer and then turned the key in the lock with a heavy thud.
The inside of his living space was cluttered in a good way, the maximalist in Seth showing itself of the walls and counters, trinkets and odd pieces of junk and wood collected from one job site or another. The sink was half-full of dishes that needed to be done at some point but Seth was ready to relax after a long day of work at the construction site.
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- Part 8 of short stories
- Part 1 of grabby paws at trans bears
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“Damn, you weren’t kidding,” Tony mused. He took a long drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke directly down into the pup’s face.
It went from his sweaty armpit to a cloud of polluted air and it sputtered with a gasping cough, pawing at Tony’s side as if it could squirm away. His grip in its hair was tight enough though, and its weak struggling with no match for him.
“He’s fucking gone.”
Seth smirked, lounging back in his own chair as he watched his friends use his pup. His jeans were already popped open, his round stomach spilling over onto his thighs in all its glory. His underwear was bunched and wet with slobber, evidence of where the pup had started at the beginning of the night.
“It,” he corrected. He liked how the reminder about the pronouns, the casual dehumanization, made a light of excitement glimmer in his friends’ eyes.
Series
- Part 2 of grabby paws at trans bears