Bonus! Halloween Special

Author’s note: This is not canon. The characters in this special story feel themselves called to greater sexiness by the Spirit of Halloween, a **** which is not present in the main story. I hope this special will serve as both proof I’m not dead, and also a foreshadowing of themes to come (to) in the main story. You can view this special’s pacing as a fast-burn counterpart to the main story’s slow-burn. That said, it did balloon into a month’s worth of chapters in length, so be sure to take breaks and stay hydrated.

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“Oh my god Mom, you look so pretty! Thank you so much for being my Dooby!”

Your mother is standing anxiously in the living room, her arms covering the scoop bra on her chest. Her tits are barely contained by the mesh portion around them and press out against it like two pineapples. The twitch at the bottom of your vision proves that your praise hit home, as well as catching your attention. Your gaze follows downward past your mom’s cute muffin top, blatantly enough to bring some more fidgeting out of her in response.

Before she has time to react, you manage to take in her panty-clad beauty. The faux-fur thong you picked is a bit of a tight fit. Despite being officially the right size for your mother’s hips, they clearly weren’t designed to accommodate the bulge pressing against them. Not that there’s much there – decades of HRT have reduced whatever mass she had before to a small vestigial bump. With the little fabric of the thong being stretched to cover her genitals, nothing is left to obscure the pubic mound beside them. The brown hairs from the costume blend into her blonde pubes, creating a patchy gradient all the way to her skin.

“I didn’t realize I would need to shave. I hope that’s not a problem, sweetie?” She says nervously as her hands travel down to cover the sight in front of you. In doing so, she reveals your favorite part of the costume. The bra itself leaves nothing to the imagination, requiring the pasties she has underneath for public decency. Even with pasties, there’s a ring of pink still visible around each of them where the areolas blend into normal skin. The mesh design is also titillating in its own right. Most of the garment is wide brown nylon straps for support, but around the main attraction, there’s black mesh in the shape of one big paw print on each breast. They’re angled upward and inward around her tits as if the paws are groping her.

As you reluctantly pull away to smile at your mother’s face, you tell her, “Oh, don’t worry. It helps you look like my super sexy puppy!” Her teal collar and headband ears are perfect too. You’d think this was a miracle if you hadn’t been preparing for it so long. You managed to convince your mom to wear less clothing around the house pretty easily thanks to your magic phone app, but showing off outside proved a major hurdle. Eventually, you had to just pull her physically out the door before she had time to react, Training Clicker at the ready to smooth things over going forward.

Even after convincing her it’s okay to go outside in her underwear, the couple’s costume was still a stretch. Not wanting to show off too much yourself, you got a “His-and-Hers” Frizzy and Dooby-Cloo costume set, the “His” part being basically normal clothes. Mom was understandably resistant to being paraded around in less than underwear, especially contrasted with her daughter in a lime green T-shirt and brown pants, even if that is showing more skin than usual for you. You’re grateful that holding out to the 45th minute of It Can’t Wait was enough to break down the last of her boundaries. Luckily, you planned far enough ahead that both of her cooldowns have reset by now.

“Awoo!” your sister whistles on the way out of her bedroom. While fashionable as ever, she’s opted for the generic route with a witch costume from Ghouly Halloween. It’s just a flowy robe with some buckles and a big hat, but it’s tight around the chest in a way that has your attention. Each side of the plunging neckline pushes her cleavage together like it was designed for a woman several cup sizes smaller. “So I guess I’m holding down the fort while you take her for a walk?” she asks you with knowing eyes.

You return the volley, hoping a double entendre will pierce Hannah’s guard. “Well yeah, I don’t want me or Mom to get in the way of your special costume sets.”

She serves back a knowing smirk. “Yeah, sure, that’s totally your reasoning. Anyway, I hope you have fun trick-or-treating!”

Mom pipes up at this point. “Are you sure you don’t mind handing out candy?” The anxiety in her voice tells you she’s looking for a way out of this. At least she doesn’t seem to have read between the lines about Hannah’s plans for tonight.

Your sister gracefully closes off that escape route. “No, this is my favorite part of Halloween. You’re doing me a favor by letting me luxuriate in it.”

Better act quickly before Mom’s feet get any colder. You pull out the last component of the costume: a green leash. “Dooby wanna go outside?” you tease her as you come closer to hook the leash onto her collar.

While your mom does let out some words of protest, an “are you sure?” here, a “that’s a bit much” there, her body stands motionless, allowing you to attach the leash unimpeded.

As she accepts the leashing, you give her a little reward. You get in even closer, rubbing just under her bra while you tell her, “I love this. You make such a cute puppy.”

The praise hits her hard. “Thank you mast– I mean Frizzy– I mean Violet– I mean honey” she stumbles over herself. You don’t need line of sight to tell how deeply she must be blushing.

You bring your hand up past her tits as you whisper, “Why don’t you let yourself be a good girl and call me master tonight?” Your mother whimpers and nods in response. The two of you say your goodbyes to Hannah and you walk your scantily clad puppy mom into the awaiting crowd outside.

Since the trick-or-treaters in your neighborhood are mainly college students, the referential lingerie doesn’t actually stand out too badly. While it’s definitely on the more risqué end of the spectrum, you are also surrounded by an assortment of short-skirted vampires, nurses, witches and nuns. As you go from house to house, your mom does attract some looks from among the costumed masses, but most of them look like charmed gazes to you. They’re checking out the hot lady as she passes by, not shooting her scornful glances.

Some of the houses handing out treats tonight seem to be fraternity houses, and while they do make some careless comments, the embarrassment is nothing your mom can’t handle. It’s at one of these frat houses that the second phase of your plan starts to materialize. Growing up, you weren’t allowed to trick-or-treat in this neighborhood, not just because of the skimpy costumes, but because your parents knew some of the houses here hand out liquor instead of candy. You’re still not supposed to have any alcoholic treats since you’re not quite 21 yet, but that’s fine as far as you’re concerned. You want every ounce of the stuff to go to your puppy.

As soon as you got to this house, you could tell that it’s one of those spirited houses. There’s a steady stream of trick-or-treaters stumbling like zombies out the open front gate. As you get in line for the door, you take in the decorations. These frat guys really went all out. There are faux spider webs out front, up in the trees, lining the walkway, really just an unreasonable amount of webs. They’re blaring spooky music from a speaker you can’t pinpoint the location of, somewhere past the artificial fog. Oh, right, they set up an entire smoke machine as well, creating a sort of intangible canopy that catches most overhead light. By the time you take in the whole shebang, you’ve made it to the front.

The guardian of treats is an expectedly bulky fellow, and about on your level costume-wise: just an olive green shirt and some Frankenstein stitch lines drawn on his face. He snaps out of the mindless robotic motions of handing out treats to dozens of people when his eyes meet your mother. They hungrily trail up and down her exposed body. He gracefully keeps his comments to only a whistle. In his outstretched hand are two foil-wrapped treats in the shape of miniature vodka bottles.

Your mother tries to take the awaiting treats, but gets caught on her leash as you hold it in place. You thought she might try to enforce your age restriction and already anticipated her next move. In the moment she’s thrown off balance, you take the opportunity to seize the bottles yourself. The unsurprisingly shocked expression on her face only grows as you swiftly unwrap the chocolate inside.

“Wait sweetie” Mom pleads with you, mistaken about your intent, “those are special chocolates.”

You smile as you stick out your chocolate-bearing hand toward her. “I know!” Confusion crosses her face before you clarify, “Here girl, eat!” The look of confusion doesn’t leave, though she does venture to pick up the treats from your hand between back-and-forth glances. You pull your hand away before she can and shake your head. “Uh-uh” you admonish her, “dogs don’t eat with their hands.”

Her eyes dart around anxiously. Between the people in line behind you getting increasingly impatient, and the booze dispenser lecherously eyeing the whole scene, your mom can’t take the pressure of resisting. She leans her head down and starts lapping the confections out of your hand. You see what you suspect is the camera flash of a cellphone, but it’s hard to be sure with all the fog, not to mention the neighbors using strobe lights.

Once the encased liquor is in its proper place inside your mom, you give her leash a tug to let her know it’s time to leave. The shock of taking a double-shot so suddenly has her stumbling as badly as the unseasoned freshmen you saw on the way in. To get a head-start toward some middle-of-the-street privacy, you let go of the leash, leaving her to waddle out at her own pace. She catches even more eyes now with her unsteady gait.

The brief time your coordinated costumes are separated is all you need to do what you planned. One advantage of a men’s costume is pockets deep enough to bring your phone. In the cold, haunted night, you fish it out and open the KDK.

No notifications. Wouldn’t stop for them anyway. Status page.

Name: Nova Starshine

Role: Subject, Mother

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 48

Kink: Praise - (level 2 - 511/2100 seconds)

Levels:

Level 1 - Unlocked - tap for more details.

Level 2 - Unlocked - tap for more details.

Level 3 - ???

Level 4 - ???

Level 5 - ???

Level 1 details

Passive:

Subject is more likely to perform praise-worthy acts in the vicinity of the User, and her attraction to the User increases whenever the User tells her she did a good job.

Active - Training Clicker:

Condition(s): Subject is able to hear the User’s voice.

Effect(s): The next time the User praises something the subject is doing or has done recently, the subject will be more likely to consider it a praise-worthy act in the future. Effect expires if it is not used before the cooldown ends.

Cooldown: 14 hours

Activating ‘Training Clicker’

While you’re here, and your Dooby-Cloo is still occupied, you figure you might as well see if Hannah managed to get any interesting photos.

Name: Hannah Starshine

Role: Subject, Sister

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 24

Kink: Voyeur - (level 2 - 450/3800 seconds)

Levels:

Level 1 - Unlocked - tap for more details.

Level 2 - Unlocked - tap for more details.

Level 3 - ???

Level 4 - ???

Level 5 - ???

Level 2 details

Passive:

If a situation is sufficiently titillating, the subject will watch intently and cannot bring herself to interfere. Subject will stop watching if she becomes physically endangered.

Active - Get a Load of This:

Condition(s): Subject is within 1 kilometer of the user or a device capable of sending a photograph to the user. Subject is within 1 meter of an appropriate photo or a device capable of taking a photo.

Effect(s): Subject will deliver an erotic photograph of a person who is currently within 1 kilometer of the User. Subject will not repeat photos. Subject will prioritize speed of delivery. If there is less than 0.5 seconds difference between multiple photos, she will choose between them based on perceived novelty and familiarity to the user.

Cooldown: 3 hours

Activating ‘Get a Load of This’

No time to wait for the turnaround. You return your phone to its pocket just as your mom stumbles into you. “What just happened, sweetie?” she asks, briefly covering her mouth through an inaudibly small hiccup, “Is everything ok?”

You smile warmly at her. “Good puppies do tricks!” you explain, “You just did a trick and that made you a good girl! That’s what happened.”

She blushes unabashedly, not attempting to hide her arousal. “Th- thank you master.” A moment later, her eyes bug out in recognition of what she just said. Before she has a chance to freak out, you stand on your tiptoes to give her a headpat, and you tell her she’s a good girl once more. That seems to calm her down enough to get on with the festivities, so you take her leash again and lead the way.

While you and Mom go to the less exciting houses, you check to see what spicy jpeg you have from Hannah.

Sis

IMG_202210311911 | Received 7:12

Fuck | Received 7:12

Oops | Received 7:12

Omg I’m so sorry please delete that! | Received 7:12

I was just trying to back it up | Received 7:13

You do not delete that. Instead you tap the image to get your phone to actually receive it.

The camera’s location is a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. Apparently Hannah managed to stick a spy-cam on the lid of the pumpkin bowl that serves your house’s candy. That’s the only place you think the camera could be, based on the panties in center-frame. A pleated skirt encircles the plain white cotton, and a facade of exposed bone covers the length of thigh down to pink knee socks. The angle obscures half the wearer’s face, and the rest is covered in zombie makeup so thick you’re not sure you could even recognize her dead-on. That said, something seems way too familiar about this undead schoolgirl. She’d probably prefer just being passed over though, so you decide it’s best to leave it alone for now. You make your own backup and refocus on making the most of this conversation.

you were trying to back THIS up? how did you even get this?? | Sent 7:20

I accidentally dripped Mr. Camera

That’s how I got this photo | Received 7:20

Dropped | Received 7:20

MY jfc | Received 7:20

you JUST said you were trying to back it up | Sent 7:20

Wow, Hannah must be really panicked if her lies are this thread-bare.

I don’t know!

Sometimes you make mistakes

It’s all apart of the artistic process | Received 7:25

Please V can you just not make a big deal out of this | Received 7:26

yknow what, I also find a lot of artistry in womens panties, so not making a big deal out of this is a definite possibility | Sent 7:27

Ok I get it

What do I need to do for this not to be a big deal? | Received 7:28

I feel like you could guess this one, just let me see more of the “accidental” photos you take tonight | Sent 7:28

and dont hold out on me! ill use my scary tech powers to double check when I get home | Sent 7:29

You don’t actually have the kind of “scary tech powers” that would allow you to double-check this, but you know for a fact your sister believes you do, and that’s what matters.

Alright fine | Received 7:39

Took her long enough, but that’s a successful negotiation if you’ve ever been in one. You look forward to finding out where she’ll take things with this upskirt as the baseline. In the time she was mulling over your ****, you managed to scope out another hotspot giving out illicit treats.

This place is considerably more austere than the webbed-up frat house. It sports no spooky decorations at all, not even one of those faux-buried skeletons with the legs sticking out that you keep seeing on every other lawn. The only clues you have to its treat-bearing nature is the half-lit platter of jelly shots you spotted in front of the doorbell camera. You slip away from your puppy and return after swiping two little clear-plastic cups.

By the time you get back, your mom is nervously looking around for you. She sighs with relief when she spots you. “Spring Flower, where’d you run off to? I feel like I just looked away for–”

You silence her with a finger to her lips, followed by a slow wag. “Uh-uh-uh, I’m not ‘Spring Flower’ tonight, am I, Dooby?”

That maneuver helps relax Mom back into the puppy game you’ve been playing all night. “Oh, I’m sorry Master! I’m trying to be a good doggy for you!” Reminding her that she doesn’t have to be a mom tonight seems like it took a load off her mind. Time to give her a different load.

“That’s right, and since you’re being such a good doggy, I got some more of your special snacks!” You hold up the two cups in your other hand for emphasis. “You’ll have to learn a new trick, but I believe in you.”

Fully in doggy mode, your mom simply replies by perking her head to the side, not fretting over you handling **** this time. She gives an excited “Erp!” to let you know she’s feeling receptive.

With your one free hand, you snap your fingers and point down at your feet. “Beg” you command. Your dog-mom receives the instructions without clarification and immediately drops to her knees. Her hands flop out in front of her chest, elbows squeezing her tits together as she whimpers.

You gently grab your mom’s hair to hold her in place while you administer her medicine, popping the shots out from the bottom with your thumb and watching her lick it up. All the while you tell her, “good girl, you’ve earned this.” She blushes hard after the first shot. “You look so beautiful under me.” You scratch your pup behind the ears while she swallows the second shot, and then trail down to feel her up over the paw prints. “I really like how this trick shows off these.”

A small bit of drool leaks out the right corner of your mom’s mouth, bearing the bright red dye of the shots you just pushed into her. She speaks without thinking, “You like it when I show off my titties, Master?” A hand immediately latches onto her mouth, preventing any more from slipping out. By now the display you ordered is upping the number of eyes on you.

You chirp back, “Of course I do! You’re the prettiest puppy-slut ever.” Before she has a chance to respond, you pull on the leash to indicate that it’s time to see more of the neighborhood. She stumbles behind your lead, but manages to keep pace despite her impaired coordination.

After visiting a few more normal-candy houses, you start to notice that the crowd is getting thicker. The influx of new arrivals looks to be on the younger side. They’re almost certainly seniors from one of the local high schools, looking for the fabled booze houses, no doubt. You’re distracted from your people-watching by the vibration in your pocket.

Sis

IMG_202210312129 | Received 9:32

Look at this lassie I brought to market | Received 9:32

As before, you immediately open the image, eager to find out what Hannah cooked up without your invisible hand guiding her selection.

This picture is the opposite of the last, a top-down angle, with emphasis on down the top. (How many cameras could Hannah possibly have on the front porch?) It features a chubby androgynous person in a cow onesie, sporting a look of distress on their face. The source of that distress is visible in the picture as well: there’s no doubt that’s your sister’s hand pulling the zipper down. The result takes on a V-shape of revealed skin down to their belly. They’re not as ridiculous in the chest as your immediate family, but definitely on the big side of medium. A smattering of freckles coats the top side of their udders, and you can make out a sliver of brown areola along the zipper.

This photo almost worries you with how much Hannah’s appealing to your particular desires. There’s no way it was even remotely ethically produced. Did the zipper catch their skin on the way back up? Maybe a nipple? You have to investigate the juicy details.

howd you get away with pulling down someones zipper? | Sent 9:36

Idk honestly

They were all alone and its Halloween and I could tell they weren’t wearing a bra

And I thought what the heck I’ll give them a scare | Received 9:37

it seems unlikely someone would just let that happen | Sent 9:37

They seemed like a bit of a weenie tbh

Didn’t react for a while

I got the zipper down as far as the picture shows before they ran away crying | Received 9:38

Fuck, if you weren’t in the middle of this thing with your mom, you might just touch yourself thinking about their tears. Your sister really knows how to please when she lets loose. It’s almost disappointing that you’ve come across another long line of boozed-up students, now both college and high school.

This time, the seasonal decor went in a theatrical direction, with a haunted-maze-style spooky hallway for a walk-up, its entrance marked by one of those floppy tube guys obviously stolen from a car dealership. Once inside, the two of you are accosted by low-budget animatronic skeletons singing the monster mash, all bathed in green light. Just before the hallway ends, a surprise hand grabs at you through cell bars, managing to startle your mom back into your awaiting arms.

When you emerge, the architects of this tour are dressed in what looks to be cosplay of that new Nailgun Woman anime you’ve been meaning to watch. Your mom doesn’t even go to grab the treats any more, being relegated to the position of waiting for her master to make the decisions. After an obligatory compliment on the theatrics, you receive a handful of gummy crossbones which you’re told are infused with tequila. You’ll know for sure by your mother’s face, but first she needs to learn a new trick.

You hold onto the gummies until you find a grassy spot a bit away from the crowd. “Are you ready?” you ask your mom as she trails behind you.

“Ready for what, Master?” Your dog-mom replies excitedly.

“You’re going to do a trick because you’re my good girl!”

By now your mom has got the picture and there’s nothing in the way of her immediately visible excitement. Her pupils dilate, her breath takes on a panting quality, and she even starts wiggling her butt. “Woof!” she yelps back, sounding more agreeable than any words she could have said.

“That’s great, roll over, Dooby!” You point at the grass to indicate where.

Dooby excitedly kneels down on the green, but hesitates at the last moment. You can hear under her breath, “Wait, but my costume…”

You actually thought of an answer to that concern already. “Doggies don’t wear clothes,” you explain, “so you don’t have to worry about it. If there’s an issue, your master will fix it for her good girl.”

Mom looks up to see you smiling down on her. She nods and starts rolling. She’s still slow and hesitant at first, but she pretty quickly gets into it, rolling vigorously, not caring about the fact that all the best parts of her are jiggling every which way. She continues for a minute or two before exhaustion tuckers her out, leaving her on her back breathing heavily.

You can’t even bring yourself to get on with the next step, too distracted by the view of this dirty dane sprawled out underneath you. Her hair looks even more messy than usual the way it’s been dragged around, bunching up her curls into mats in some places and frizzing them in others. Her face is beaming, coated in a crimson red blush along with the specks of dirt. Her shoulders have a few blades of grass stuck to them, and one has lodged itself in the mesh of her bra. You could stare in its direction for an unhealthy amount of time, if not for another distraction drawing your gaze further down. The flimsy costume panties have slipped off the side, now exposing more than just pubes. The soft dog toy between her legs limply stares out at you, shrinking in response to the cold night air. A dribble of precum shines in the light of the street lamp above. As far as you can tell, only you have noticed so far. Your mother is still smiling unabashedly.

Wanting to keep her distractedly exposed for as long as possible, you remind your pet about the reward. “Eat girl!” you command as you hold the gummy bones in front of her face. She sits up and sloppily licks up the candy from your hand, a maneuver so messy it ends up with two fingers stuck in her mouth. When she swallows, the face of disgust opens her up enough for you to slip out. “You’re so lovely and obedient” you tell her while stroking her cheek.

“Thank you mas–” your mom suddenly goes nonverbal the moment your other hand reaches her bare dick. You luxuriate in the action of stuffing it back into her panties, taking a moment to stroke your thumb across the damp tip before putting it back in its proper home.

“I told you I’d take care of you if you had any wardrobe malfunctions. Everything’s alright now” you console her.

Your mother acquiesces pretty easily now that she has six shots worth of liquor inside her. “Ok, everything’s alright” she slurs out, the timbre of her voice taking on a droning quality, “I’m just letting my master take care of me like a good girl.”

You start walking to your next destination, with a light leash tug and a “here girl!” to prompt your dog to follow. She trails behind on all fours, lacking the coordination to walk bipedally right away. By the time she’s able to stand, you have another message to sink your teeth into.

Sis

IMG_202210312258 | Received 11:04

LOL this girl was so drunk | Received 11:04

For this late showing, your sister went for the blonde cheerleader type. Not some ultimate pinnacle of hotness as far as you’re concerned, but you aren’t opposed either. The costume is pretty obviously just the wearer’s actual cheer uniform. She looks young, like ‘high school senior’ young. More importantly, she’s pulled up her top, flashing her tits at the camera directly in front of her. They’re small and perky, nipples standing in the night breeze. You also feel your eyes drawn down to her stomach, where her time as an athlete has carved some impeccable abs. You’d love to feel this girl up in her current state. She probably wouldn't even do anything about it, letting you use her however you please; drunk putty in your hands.

clearly lmao, how did that translate into you getting flashed? | Sent 11:07

It didn’t take much honestly

I said that using her cheerleader uniform as a costume didn’t really seem in the Halloween spirit

And she said how’s this for spirit lollll | Received 11:09

well consider me thoroughly haunted | Sent 11:10

Same lollk

How's mom and you doing? You heading back soon? | Received 11:11

mom is honestly more drunk than that cheerleader | Sent 11:11

like | Sent 11:11

so drunk that if she wasn't our mom I bet ud have a picture of her already =p | Sent 11:12

also idk probably not I think I wanna head back closer to midnight | Sent 11:14

Oh fair

I'm going to bed soon I have work in the morning | Received 11:15

Those pics enough to fulfill your **** fetish or whatever? | Received 11:16

yeah, were even 'camera creep' | Sent 11:16

Cool then, that’s it for tonight I think

I’m gonna close up shop

Good night! | Received 11:19

sweet dreams | Sent 11:21

The next place you find signs of liquor is an apartment complex littered with discarded solo cups. On the way in, you start to hear some kind of party music getting louder with each step, its bass end bouncing off the walls from an unseen point of origin. You and your drunk puppy cross paths with an equally drunk-looking catgirl hurrying the opposite way. Mom asks if she’s okay, but her voice, uncertain and a bit slurred, has trouble overpowering what you can now identify as a screamo song. The catgirl’s makeup is stained by wet eyes that won’t acknowledge yours, and she sniffles audibly as you pass by. You tug on Mom’s leash to keep her on-task. The two of you round a corner and walk past more unlit, undecorated apartments until you reach the source of the music, a bluetooth speaker on a bar stool. A tacky painted sign saying “Spirits Welcome” looms above it, coated in the orange-tinted light leaking out the apartment’s open door.

“Holy shit, Violet! Who’s that?” The voice sounds as shocked as you are when you realize who it belongs to. You had no idea your gorgeous goth friend from school lived within walking distance of your house! It would be so easy to just come over and hang out, assuming they’ll have you.

You greet Poison with an explanation that, “This is my mom, actually. She agreed to go trick-or-treating with me.” You shy away from mentioning the kinkier parts of your mother-daughter date, since you have no reason to expect they would be okay with your particular perversions.

You look over to confirm that they aren’t too freaked out by your mom’s attire, and immediately find yourself enraptured by theirs. They don’t have a costume, instead sporting some of their usual all-black streetwear. The form-fitting jeans do wonders for accentuating their thick thighs and juicy hips. Their hands are resting at their side, somewhat tense like they’re hungry for something to hold onto. You can’t see the waistband, as it’s concealed by a cozy-looking bomber jacket embroidered with two cracked skulls. Every bit of metal you expect on their face is accounted for, orange light catching menacingly on the silvery material as well as their bangs.

Poison follows your cue, addressing Dooby indirectly as they would an actual dog. “Based on how she’s standing, I bet she’d be interested in the special treats I have available.”

Your already-drunk pet noticeably stumbles backwards and worriedly slurs out, “Am I gonna have to do a trick for these too?” She glances back and forth between you and Poison, looking for guidance from someone.

Poison’s head perks up at that, but you’re not sure if it’s at the word ‘trick’ or the anxiety in your mom’s countenance. “Oh, you’ve been teaching her tricks? What kind?” they ask you.

Well, if your drunk date is going to put a fine point on it, you might as well be honest. You explain straightforwardly that, “Every time we find a place that’s giving out alcoholic treats, I’ve been having my mom do dog tricks since she’s Dooby-Cloo tonight, and her reward is the treats. So far I’ve taught her: Eat, Beg, and Roll Over.”

“Can I see how well she’s trained?” Poison suddenly seems a lot more interested now that you’ve explained the situation. If their feelings on the matter had been merely ‘not repulsed,’ that would have been enough. Maybe you can use this to win some affection points with them.

You suggest an idea to put your friend even more in the driver’s seat and hopefully appease them. “Oh yeah, we can have a little doggy show, and you can be the judge! If you like what you see, you can reward Dooby with a treat.”

“Spring Flower, I don’t know if I can do this.” Your pet calling you Spring Flower instead of Master is worrying, but you still have one active left tonight. You pull out your phone to get ready in the event she needs the extra push. At this stage in the conversation, it’s probably best to ignore her whines. You haven’t gotten to ‘Beg’ yet.

You tab through to It Can’t Wait so you can have it ready on a hair trigger.

Active - It Can't Wait:

Condition(s): Subject is within 25 meters of the User. Subject is focused on something other than the User.

Effect(s): Subject will immediately disengage from her current activity and attempt to receive praise from the User instead. Subject will behave more desperately than usual in order to achieve her goal. Effect intensifies until subject receives praise or 1 hour passes.

Cooldown: 8 hours

The focus condition isn’t met, but you’re sure you can arrange a distraction when you need to.

Poison seems to have gotten the hint that your mom’s concerns are not to be addressed. “That sounds like fun to me. We should do this demonstration inside though. I’ve got a couch her owner can watch from.” They beckon you inside with one hand on the door.

As you enter Poison’s apartment for the first time, you scour the place visually, looking for memorabilia from any video game or anime or something you could bring up to prove how compatible you are. You have no such luck. You do see a few band posters on the walls, all coated in that unreadable demon script every metal band uses, which is cool, but not something you’re educated enough on to make conversation about. Quicker than you’d like, you get sat down on a dark red couch that has its seat cushions coated in towels. You shift your focus back to the event at hand, preparing to support Poison as much as you can.

Dooby follows to join you on the couch, but gets caught on her taut leash halfway through sitting down. You hear Poison from behind her, “Sorry puppy, but we need you standing for this part. You’re due for a thorough grooming inspection.” You snap and point at the spot on the floor where your mother should stand, and she follows meekly.

“Already impressive discipline. Now let me see those hind legs.” Poison bends over and starts massaging your mom’s calves. She looks down anxiously in response to the unsolicited touch, but like the cow you saw earlier, she’s too much of a weenie to do anything about it. As Poison’s hands work their way up to the thighs, she does start to waddle anxiously, not enough to disrupt the important inspection going on. “Legs passed muster, now let’s see if the rear is well-kept.”

Black-nailed fingers wander onto your mom’s ass, giving a light squeeze before circling around to her genitals. They have to be gentle about it to avoid ripping the already thread-bare costume panties. “The puppy’s fur in this area seems to be pristine.” While Poison says this, they have one finger gently stroking up and down your mom’s shaft as it struggles to stiffen.

This proves they’re aware of the sexual aspect of your pet play, but apparently that hasn’t dissuaded them. Grateful for their engagement, you heap on some praise, hoping arousal will outweigh anxiety. “This breed has the most beautiful curls. I just love playing with them.” The titillation from your flirtatious words, combined with the **** in your mom’s bloodstream, seems to calm her somewhat. Her nervousness melts into placidity, and she allows the molestation to continue.

You sit back on the couch, still with excitement as Poison continues the farce. The dominating goth slides their stroking finger up past your mom’s shaft. Their digit keeps going up, pausing slightly to hook on an exposed naval before moving onwards to more illicit pastures. Poison circles around to a position that allows for a more clear view of Mom’s front assets, their pointer never leaving her flesh in the entire maneuver. Turning their back to you makes their embroidered jacket feel more complete. The rear side features a single, much larger skull with a snake slipping through the eyehole. Cursive lettering above that simply reads “Japan”

You manage to make out Poison muttering “Let’s get a real look at these” under their breath. A second later, their other hand snakes under the paw print mesh to get at the pasty underneath. It’s at this moment that your doggy finally stands up for itself, taking a step back and swatting Poison’s hand away. She doesn’t muster any words, but she’s looking directly at Poison with fear.

Activating ‘It Can’t Wait’

Once you’ve made use of her shifted focus, you immediately seize it again, yelling “bad girl!” at Dooby. She’s looking in your direction now, but still cowering, half wanting to run to you, the other half clearly **** to flee. You explain why she can’t flee, “You need to impress the judge if you want to be a good girl. If you don’t let them do what they need to do to assess your value, how can I compliment you in good conscience?” Her face droops in submission as she realizes how this night is about to go down. You turn your attention back to the person that matters, “You should be good to continue.” You add scornfully to make Dooby more ****, “The bitch will behave.”

Poison’s demeanor shifts through the course of your verbal discipline. Some new idea must have occurred to them while they silently took it in, finally realizing just how much **** this puppy can take. They dispense with the previous sensuality, pawing at your mom’s tits with a sadistic grip. With a hand on each breast, they rip off both pasties and the paw print mesh in one fell swoop. The action elicits a wordless whimper of pain. You can’t even complain about them ruining the costume given it didn’t cost more than twenty bucks, not to mention the spectacle they just gave you. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see two rings of redness where the pasties were. The bra is more like a harness now with how little support it provides to the main attraction. The nipples, of course, are exposed to the living room now, though they’re still in their flattened state for the time-being.

The aggressive handling of your mom continues. Polished nails **** their way into her mouth and pull her jaw down. “Let me see how clean your fucking mouth is.” They perform a perfunctory observation before concluding, “This dog-slut could use some mouthwash.” Lightning fast, a bottle containing a single shot of rum emerges from one of Poison’s coat pockets. They pop open the tiny cap with their thumb and pour the contents directly into Dog Slut’s mouth. As the bottle empties, they pinch her nose, forcing her to swallow.

With that last assertion of dominance, Poison seems to calm down a bit, returning to a more neutral state. They do a complete 180 to face you again. “Seems like you’ve done a good job with her” they confirm. “Would you care to show me some tricks?”

“Sure! I can go over what she’s learned so far” you confirm, halfway directing your comment Dooby’s way but still not fully acknowledging her.

Before you know it, a full-size rum bottle appears in front of you. “If I remember right, the first one was Eat” is all the justification provided for the cap already coming off.

“Oh yeah, but earlier I was having her eat out of my hand. I’m not sure how to work this in” you explain, indicating the bottle of loose rum

Your friend has an immediate comeback, “We can use your belly button. It’s nature’s shot glass.” You always feel so unprepared around Poison. They could talk circles around you when they’re in their element. Have they been arranging body shots all evening? That would explain the towels. It makes you wish their apartment was the first place you found. You could have stayed and been their perfect serving cup as long as they needed it.

Oh well, no use dwelling on the past. It’s what they want now, so they shall have it. You stretch your short body across the toweled couch, pull up your shirt exposing your midriff, and command your pet, “Eat!” Poison swiftly dispenses the rum into the centerpoint of your body, a little extra spilling down your side.

You’re not sure if your puppy’s hesitance is coming from the physical act or the fact that you’re family. Either way, you pull her head down by the leash until her mouth is where it belongs. Once there, she laps up the liquid, resolving any lingering tension about her willingness. You let your leashless hand roam over her gropable body, making just as much a treat of her flesh as the liquid on your stomach.

The judge offers an exclamation of “Very satisfactory” along with subdued applause. “Next I believe I get to see the bitch beg?” they prod, dropping the still-open rum bottle into your hands.

You understand the gesture. They’re trusting you with the director’s chair. Better not fuck it up. You grab Dooby by the hair and use her as leverage to sit yourself up, pushing her down onto her knees in the process. Once in position, you command her to “Beg.” She puts her hands up and whines as before.

You frown. Admonishments leave your mouth as you think of them, “My silly pet-whore, I think you know that’s not good enough any more. Think about what else we’ve done in this room, and do better.”

“Right, right. I’m your doggy whore” she slurs in a stilted cadence, “I have to do slutty dog things. I know… my place. I know what’s going on.” For a moment, she just stares into space before catching up with herself. “Please come in my doggy mouth! This pup needs you to fuck her senseless!”

Whatever haven of deniability you had when you came in is thoroughly sacced at this point. The friend you’re trying to impress asks you point-blank, “This is your mom?” Before said mom can start crying in response to that bullet of a question, you shove the rum bottle into her agape mouth.

Receiving the glass shaft makes her quiet pretty quick. With your hand in her curls keeping her head tilted back, all she can do is sit there and swallow. You watch the flesh of her throat bob up and down, struggling to keep pace with the deluge pouring in. To your immense relief, Poison gets in on the action rather than pressing the **** inquiry. They bend down and touch your dog-slut’s back, intentions becoming clear once they unhook the last clasp on her bra and it immediately unfurls. The shoulder straps quickly slide down her limp arms now that they aren’t held in place. Eventually the remnants of your mother’s bra fall to the ground, leaving her puppies completely naked and exposed. Tears run down her face as the chugging act overwhelms her.

You don’t stop until she starts to ****.

Once freed of the bottle, she lays down on her side, coughing violently as she tries to digest your bitter fluid. You and your accomplice impassively watch the dog recover. After her coughs pass, you figure this is probably a good position for her next command: “Roll over, now.”

She does receive your command, but in her current state, it’s more like limp flailing than a proper roll. She can barely keep her eyes open with how much **** you just put in her. She doesn’t even notice when the cheap costume underwear catches on Poison’s carpet and finally snaps off. When her pitiful motion concludes, she gets up on all fours, wearing nothing but her collar and leash.

When you started today’s festivities, you never expected it would end up like this, with your mom essentially naked at your feet in what is, to her, a stranger’s house. Even with the KDK helping out, you didn’t think you could get her to go this far. Given the tears streaming out of her eyes, this is probably the end of the line, but oh man, what a peak. You’ll have to walk her home in her birthday suit, considering the state of her costume. Anyone still milling around outside this late will get to see a straight-up BDSM scene.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to release your mom with a compliment, Poison cuts you off. “May I suggest one last trick to end the night?” You’ve already checked off the three you had, so you simply look up to Poison, hoping your confusion comes through on your face.

They seductively run a finger up over the crotch of your pants. “You should tell her to lick.” Oh fuck. You really wish you could just stay in this moment with Poison touching you. Too bad that wasn’t their request.

They did ask something hot of you though, so you better get on with it. You unbutton your Frizzy pants and lower them to expose yourself. You stare down your crying pet and command her to lick. She starts to sputter out, panicked, “No, no! I can’t!” before trailing off into distressed mumbling. You look to Poison, expecting them to give up in response to this blatant refusal. To your surprise, they’ve made a move to lock the door.

They look at you confused, before stating matter-of-factly, “If the dog is going to whine, shut her up!” Oh. Poison doesn’t care about her ****? Well, they know best. You take their cue and pull hard on your dog-slut’s hair, shoving her face into your dampened crotch.

A moment goes by without either of you moving, until she accepts her fate and starts licking. Your nerves light up like they’ve been eagerly awaiting her touch. You can feel her tongue lather up and down your entrance, occasionally pushing in as far as it can past your lower lips. You want to put on the best show possible for your intimidating host, so you lean down to whisper in her ear, “I know what you want. I’m going to give it to you, but only if you make me cum.”

The promise of her coveted praise kicks her into high gear. She tilts her head up to put her mouth around your sensitive clit in a way that suggests she was holding out before. The new sensation is amazing. Every movement of her tongue sends searing white pleasure into the corners of your eyes. You moan unabashedly, wanting everyone present to know how deeply you’re enjoying this act. Poison jokes from what might as well be a universe away, “And here I thought I’d have to go get some peanut butter.” You grip your slutty puppy’s fur tight to pull her as close as possible, trying to dive as deep as you can into this moment of euphoria.

It’s at this moment that a flash of light enters your vision. You look up from your sensual bliss to see Poison, phone in hand. Confident words escape their grin, “Check your DMs, I sent you a copy.”

Poison

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Now you can see her from all sides as she batters her tongue against her daughter’s most sensitive parts. All the while she’s on display; her ass, her face, her tits. This naked submissive slut who’s so **** for your approval. You take it all in, and then you come in her doggy mouth.