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Leaves littered the ground in hues of orange and brown, Halloween was upon them. Grunkle Stan had already implemented his seasonal attraction, much to Dipper's dismay.
Dipper was itchy and sweaty. Though normally everything from Wendy's name tag to her jacket made him feel that way, tonight it was because of the absurd fur pants he was adorned in. “What are these even made out of? They feel like I'm wearing steel wool,” Dipper protested, loudly after a long shirtless day of proselytizing for the Mystery Shack.
Stan stood up with a fist full of cash, proudly boasting, “They're 100% genuine wolf fur kiddo." The dapper gentleman's posture wilted slightly, "Probably. The tag ripped off the last time I washed them... a few... decades ago.” Grunkle Stan chuckled, slapping Dipper on the back. It resonated with a loud crack. “Now go take out the trash, I've got preteen wolf bucks to count!”
As Stan was striding out of the room, Dipper sulked before turning his attention to the overfilled garbage bag.
“Stupid Stan... I work all day and he doesn't even thank me,” Dipper muttered as he dragged the bags outside with a despondent air about him. The exhausted 12 year old was too fatigued to notice the follower he had gained as he left the house. Dipper's sluggish stride was easy to track, and it was only once the bag had reached it's receptacle, when Dipper was keeled over panting unbeknownst to his company.
His stalker made his presence known. Dipper hunched over, he felt an insistent nudge on his buttocks. Dipper spun around quickly, and felt a brief moment of panic as the silhouette of a wolf appeared in the dim light of the mystery shack. Dipper instinctively tried to run in the opposite direction, knowing it would take him farther from his salvation in the Mystery Shack. He was already planning on how to lose the wolf in the forest, before he'd then double back to the side road. He turned and immediately stumbled into the garbage can.
Dipper's plan, while admirable, had failed to take into account the trash can directly behind him. He found himself sprawled over the metal cylinder, his legs flailing helplessly as they failed to find footing on the ground. Dipper's eyes dilated, his heart was pounding out of his chest, was he going to die? He was an itchy, sweaty puberty stricken boy 10 yards from his house and he was going to be devoured by a wolf.
He flinched thinking a ferocious bite was coming. Instead he felt another insistent pushing against his bottom, which given the circumstances, was reassuring. Looking back, he could see the 'wolf' was just an ordinary hound, albeit with sharp pointed ears, a terrifying silhouette and a shiny yellow name tag inscribed with the name 'Will' on his black leather collar. The hound kept sniffing at Dipper's butt with enthusiasm, poking his nose between the boy's legs as he explored the furry leggings.
“Oh... you're just interested in this stupid outfit. Maybe this thing is authentic after all.” Dipper relaxed, still shaking from the sudden burst of adrenaline. He took a few deep breaths before leaning back to roll the barrel so he could stand again. His attempt was stopped as he felt a furry paw on his back, and a wet nose exploring his sweaty body.
Dipper laughed nervously. “Hey buddy, I need to get back inside. You got a good sniff, time to let this wolf boy back inside,” he meekly implored.
Still sprawled across the trash can, Dipper's heart sank as he felt a rough tongue lapping at his neck, accompanied by soft fur tickling his back as the dog leaned over him.
Dipper struggled again, trying to get his feet on the ground, but another paw wrapped around his thigh kept him pinned.
“S-stop! Heel!” Dipper cried out as he panicked, rough claws dug into his side, pulling down the wolf boy costume and exposing Dipper's ass to the balmy Oregon air.
Something warm pressed against his smooth perky bottom, his own sweat letting it slip between his cheeks, “No, no, no!” The dog opened it's maw and wrapped it around Dipper's neck, not applying pressure, but allowing it's sharp teeth to press against Dipper's soft skin. Dipper was scared again, but somehow with fangs pressed against his throat the outward signs of his panic suppressed. He bit his lip, too afraid to shout. Hot, sweaty, and itchy, with a fully furry chest pressed against his back, Dipper was mortified as the hound started humping, sliding it's slick phallus between his cheeks.
Dipper was surprised to find his own dick responding as the hot flesh rubbed against his tight rosebud; the dog's hot breath assaulting his neck. Somewhere between the adrenaline and fear, a vague lust bubbled under the surface. When the thick red phallus caught on the edge of his anus, Dipper could only gasp as the slightest shift in angle speared his virgin ass on the dog's cock. It stung the edges of his anus as the dog roughly deflowered Dipper.
The dog with a yellow glint in his eyes had no regard for his 12 year old mate, and continued to roughly hump Dipper, finally releasing his hold on Dipper's neck as he lapped at the back of Dipper's neck.
Dipper felt humiliated as the dog got into the rhythm of fucking him. The short bestial thrusts were unrelenting, each one going deeper.
He's completely dominating me... this is so humiliating. What if someone sees me like this? I'll never live it down. Dipper the dog-bitch. The preteen wolf slut. The red rocket dumpster. As the Pine boy rattled off embarrassing names he started to feel... pleasure. The sting of the thick phallus inside him was gone, replaced with a dull pleasure. The more Dipper thought about how... wrong the situation was, the more he was turned on.
“Y-yeah, fuck me like I'm your little bitch. Yeah! Breed me with that dog cock!” Dipper whispered with more conviction, moaning as his once tight virgin hole adjusted to accommodate the dog's frantic speed. Just as Dipper was getting into it, he felt a pressure against his ass, as the dog started grinding his large bulbous gland into the boy's ass.
“Wait, what's that? I-I don't!” Dipper squealed as his sphincter stretched around the huge knot, until it popped in, pressing directly on the knotted boy's prostate. The pressure on that tight cluster of nerves gave Dipper an immediate reaction as his balls tightened up and pure bliss washed across his body.
He moaned loudly as the dog let out a triumphant howl, unleashing spurt after spurt of hot cum into it's knotted bitch. Dipper kept panting, his face flushed as he felt warm fluid fill him and paint his insides white, even as the last waves of his intense orgasm faded.
Dipper didn't know how long they stayed like that, until he felt the warm weight of the dog shift off of him as it's limp dick slipped out of his well used hole. The wolf gave a few pleasurable laps against his anus, before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
It would be another 10 minutes before Dipper returned to the Shack, with a collection of new marks across his body. Stan gave a rough grunt without looking up from the T.V., “Hey kiddo, you did a good job today. The customers loved that wolf boy schtick.”
On his way to his room, Dipper gave an exasperated sigh. “They're not the only ones.”