Franklin sniffles a little as he walks home, then feels stupid about it. Boys shouldn't cry. He already takes enough crap as it is about how girly he looks without adding to the problem by acting like one. But- but- dammit, this sucks. He rubs at his nose with his sleeve ineffectually. Geeze, and he's supposed to be a high school junior already. Honestly.
He readjusts his sweatshirt to cover the huge hole in the butt of his jeans. Stupid dog. He should know better than to go by that house anymore anyway, but it's the fastest route to and from school, and he keeps telling himself that there's nothing to be afraid of...
Franklin sighs and kicks a soda can on the sidewalk into the gutter. There has to be something he can do, but he can't for the life of him think what.
Caught up in his thoughts, Franklin looks vaguely at the stores across the street, and suddenly a sign catches his eye. It's a dingy little shop, the front display window almost too grimy to see into. The shop itself is tiny, dwarfed by the convenience store and deli on either side of it. Franklin can't remember ever having seen it before, even though he walks this route to school and back nearly every day. He frowns, reading the shop's small but elegant sign.
"The Solution Shop. Problems Solved," it says. He frowns at it. What kind of a store is that? Solution shop? Maybe it's a pun of some kind, and they sell liquids, like soaps and stuff? Nevertheless, he finds himself oddly intrigued by the unfamiliar shop and its extravagant claims. Surely it couldn't hurt just to go in and take a peek? He checks the street both ways before crossing and steps briskly across the road, ducking into the shop.
The lighting in the store is dim, and it takes several seconds for Franklin's eyes to adjust after the bright afternoon light. It smells stale and warm and ancient. When he is finally able to look around, he is somewhat disappointed. The room has glass-covered cases along each wall, but other than that and a counter with a cash register in one corner, the room is completely empty. Even the contents of the cases, upon closer inspection, don't seem that interesting. There are a few drab-looking boxes, and everything seems somewhat old and fairly generic. Franklin's spirits fall a bit. It had looked so promising, too.
He sighs, and turns to go, only to be startled to find someone standing behind the shop's counter. The man had been so still, Franklin hadn't even noticed his presence. The man himself is very odd-looking. He is obviously old—what hair he has left is nearly white. But his face seems handsome, or at least contains the remnants of handsomeness. Combined with his little square spectacles, he might simply seem like someone's grandfather except for the far-away look in his eyes, as though he's staring at something that no one else can see.
As though he is only just now noticing Franklin himself—although Franklin gets the distinct impression that this man has been aware of him the whole time—the old man smiles at him. "Hello there," he says, and instead of his voice being old and creaky like Franklin expected, it is actually deep and melodious. "How may I help you?"
"Uh," says Franklin, "it's okay, I was just leaving."
The man continues to smile somewhat vacantly, his eyes peering at Franklin from behind his spectacles. "Surely you must have problems, my boy," the man says. "Everyone has problems."
"Well..." Franklin hesitates, but wasn't he just wondering what he should do about the dog? And surely it couldn't hurt to tell this old man, even if he was a little weird. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Tell me," the man commands, "and I'll find you a solution. Guaranteed."
Franklin barely represses a snort of disbelief, but decides that after all, what harm is there in telling?
"Well, there's this dog," he says. "It lives in the yard of this house that's right on my way to school, and the owner doesn't keep it tied up. Every time I pass by it chases me. It's huge! Like, a Great Dane or something. And it keeps trying to bite me. Sometimes it actually manages to grab a hold of my pants, and bite through the fabric. It's torn the butt out of three pairs of my jeans! Three! It's so embarrassing. I mean, it's just a dog, after all, but... I'm really scared of that thing. I keep telling myself that there's nothing to be afraid of, but..."
"I see, I see," says the man. Franklin looks at him, but the man does not seem to be paying attention. Instead he is staring fixedly at a spot just over Franklin's shoulder. Franklin even turns around to see what the man is looking at, but he just seems to be staring off into space. "Tell me," says the man abruptly, "are you lonely?"
"Huh?" says Franklin, confused. "Not really. Uh, I mean, I guess, sort of. I mean, my parents don't get home until late, so I don't get to see them much, and I guess I don't have a whole lot of friends, but I mean- hey, what does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing, nothing," says the man. "Nothing at all. I have just the thing for you." He suddenly ducks behind the counter, and Franklin can hear him rummaging through containers and muttering to himself. Finally he pops back up as abruptly as he dropped, clutching a small white box. He puts it on the counter. "Just the thing," he repeats.
Franklin comes closer, peering at the box. "What is it?" he asks.
"Pills," says the man. "Don't worry, they'll be completely harmless to you. But they're pheromone pills. You take one of these, and the dog won't be able to get near you! You won't be able to smell a thing, but to the dog you'll smell absolutely awful, and he'll leave you alone. Perfect solution."
Franklin frowns. It seems too good to be true. "How much?" he asks suspiciously.
"Consider it a free trial," says the man. "Use these, and if they don't work like they're supposed to, just keep it as a gift. Otherwise, if you decide you want more, you can come back and restock."
"Hmmm." Franklin looks at the box. "Are you sure it's safe?"
"Absolutely," says the man. "Would you like a demonstration?"
"That's alright," says Franklin, convinced. He grabs the box off the counter. "Okay. Thanks. I'll give it a try."
The man nods and gives Franklin a wink, then goes back to staring off towards the other end of the shop. 'Weird guy,' thinks Franklin, but he takes his box of pills and goes.
The next day is Saturday, but Franklin is eager to try out the pills. He's a little skeptical about them, but despite its oddness, the store did seem legitimate, and the pills come with a full FDA label and instructions, which makes him feel a lot better about it. He decides to try it that very day, just in case there are some weird side effects, so he knows what to expect on an actual school day. He cracks open the box and reads the instructions carefully.
Moments later, Franklin's face flames as he realizes that the pills are, in fact, suppositories. That's certainly embarrassing, but it could be worse. And if it gets that dog off his tail like it's supposed to, then it'll be worth it.
The instructions say to take the pill five to ten minutes before encountering the animal, so Franklin judges that if he takes the pill and sets out immediately, he'll be passing the house just in time. His face aglow with embarrassment, he takes out one of rather large pills - as big as the last segment of his pinky, as it turns out - and lubes it up with hand cream from his bedside. He pulls down his pants and uses one hand to spread open his cheeks, finding his anus with the pill and pushing it deep inside with his finger. He's never actually put anything in his ass before, and the feeling of his own finger inside him is strange. He distinctly feels the heat of his face as he pulls the finger out of his ass and wipes it on a tissue. Full of resolve, he pulls his pants back up and heads out towards the dog's house.
As he approaches the house, the usual barking begins. Franklin feels his muscles clench from nervousness, but he stays the course. He's walking on the far side of the road from the dog's house, but when he comes level with the house, there is a distinct lack of the usual running out and jumping that he would have experienced by now. Feeling confident, Franklin crosses the road to the dog's yard, to find the Great Dane sniffing the air frantically, all barking stopped. The pills are working! Franklin is triumphant. His problems really are solved after all!
As he reaches the yard—fenced in by a solid, wooden structure except for the entrance—a wave of dizziness suddenly grips him. Franklin stumbles and leans against the wooden fence for support. To make matters worse, the dog is barking again, and is approaching him now. Franklin tries to get up and run away, but he's woozy now, and dazed, and he feels the dog bearing down on him. He stumbles forward, only to find himself blocked off by the fence - it seems that in his confusion he has stumbled into the yard, rather than away from it. He turns around in panic, but the dog has caught up with him and slams into him, knocking him to the ground.
Franklin tries to move, but the dizziness seems to have weakened his body, and all he can do is wriggle feebly beneath the solid weight of the dog. He can feel its teeth on his clothing once again, ripping open the back of his shirt, and he tries to cry out. All that leaves his throat is a whimper, even his vocal chords confused by the drug.
He feels the dog's cold nose snuffling around the small of his back, and then teeth sink into the waistband of his jeans and underwear, and they are tugged down, partly moving, partly ripping, until he can feel his butt exposed to the cool morning air. The dog's cold nose returns, snuffling between his legs, and a wet tongue laps at the top of his thighs. The nose pushes against his butt, sniffing at his anus.
'Oh no,' Franklin thinks, although even his thoughts are somewhat fuzzy at this point. 'The suppository. It's supposed to keep him away, but it's not. What is he smelling?'
With far more effort than such a maneuver would normally take, Franklin manages to crane his head over his shoulder only to see his worst fears realized. The dog has quite a large erection, and seems intent on using it. Franklin whimpers and tries to crawl forward, but the dog growls and closes its huge muzzle around the back of Franklin's neck. Petrified of moving, lest he get his throat torn out, Franklin stills, feeling the dog shift over him.
The hot, slightly damp flesh of the dog's erection begins to rub against the cleft of his bottom, and Franklin turns his head into the dirt in shame. He should never have trusted that man, or his stupid pills! The dog will probably kill him as soon as the pill wears off.
Suddenly Franklin's teeth clench and he chokes—the dog's penis seems to have found purchase in its sliding around, and the tip has managed to nudge its way into Franklin's anus. Franklin grips the dirt and tries to wiggle his hips enough to dislodge the dog, but the great beast has found its way in now and shoves its hips downward, burying itself inside Franklin. It begins a series of shallow thrusts, and Franklin mewls pitifully in pain. There's something large he can feel at the base of the dog's penis, and it pushes a little harder against his anus each time. It must be the size of a goose egg, he judges by feel, and it's... no... it's...
It starts to slide into him, and Franklin tries to scream, but the breath has gone out of his lungs. He feels his anus stretch and split as the huge bump works its way into him where, impossibly, he feels it start to swell and grow larger. Franklin gasps and coughs as the dog thrusts again, moving the enormous bulb around inside Franklin's passage, fucking him with it almost nonchalantly as the dog squats over him, its hips swiveling in-out, in-out, in-out in quick, bestial fashion.
Franklin thinks he feels the beast come inside him, a grotesque warmth flooding into him. But still, the beast does not pull out. Franklin doesn't know what to do, but he can feel the enormous lump still stuck inside his anus, as the dog flops down on top of him, pinning him fully against the ground.
Franklin sobs helplessly into the dirt, unable to move for the drug even if he weren't covered by the weight of the dog. Behind him, he hears a screen door slam and a voice yell, "Duke! What are you doing! Get off him! Off!"
The dog shifts, but doesn't move. A pair of shoes moves into Franklin's view, and someone kneels down and starts to pry the dog off of him. "Sorry about this," a man's voice says, "he gets a little over- ...oh, holy- Oh. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He's apparently noticed now exactly how his dog is connected to the poor boy on the ground.
Franklin whimpers. "Can you pull him out?" he manages.
"Uh..." says the man, "I'm really sorry but, you can't actually do it like that. See, dogs have this thing. A knot. It swells up at the base of the penis to keep them inside the bitch and keep her from running away while they're mating. It's... uh... you kind of have to wait for the swelling to go down..."
Franklin groans and says nothing, burying his head in his arms. His last silver lining, the thought that no one would have to see him like this, is now effectively dashed beyond all hope. He didn't think he could feel any more embarrassed than he already did, but it looks like circumstances are proving him wrong.
"Hold on," says the voice, "let me go get some ice. Maybe we can speed up the de-swelling." The feet leave and footsteps trail off towards the house. The door bangs. A few minutes later it bangs again, and the feet return, this time with an accompanying bag of ice. The man tries to lift the dog enough to place the cold pack against its genitals, but at the touch of it the dog begins to thrash and Franklin cries out in pain as the still-swollen knot jerks about inside his sore passage. The man withdraws the ice, and the dog settles.
But the settling does not last. Suddenly the dog stands slightly, dragging Franklin's hips up with it and turns, wiggling itself around until it is facing away from Franklin, and they are butt-to-butt. Amazingly, the dog's cock remains lodged inside Franklin, and the boy cries out again as he feels more seed flood into him, coming and coming far more than before, filling him up with hot, gushing sperm. He sobs into the dirt and feels a tentative hand come down to rest on his hair, petting it softly.
He is not sure how long the dog remains locked within him, but it feels like hours. The man stays beside him the entire time, watching over him, petting his hair soothingly, and making sure no one comes close enough to see what's going on. For that, Franklin is devoutly grateful. He's never been so humiliated in his entire life.
Finally, the swelling goes down and the dog slides out of Franklin. Franklin gasps and pants at the sudden release of pressure, and can do little more than lie there in the dirt as the dog makes its way back to its kennel on one side of the house and flops down. The effects of the drug have long since worn off, but Franklin's muscles are still too weak from the penetration to allow him to move. He feels a gentle hand come to rest on his back, and the nearly-forgotten icepack being set gently against his anus to soothe the burning.
"We should get you inside and cleaned up," says the owner. "Can I carry you? You're probably lighter than Duke..."
Franklin manages to nod, and feels himself rolled over and lifted in strong arms into a bridal carry. He finally gets his first look at the man. Franklin is surprised to find that the man is a lot younger than he first thought. He can't be much older than early to mid twenties. Franklin finds himself staring up into a pair of soft, gentle brown eyes, and a distressed expression beneath floppy brown bangs.
"I'm Franklin," Franklin finds the voice to murmur.
"Todd," says the young man. "Come on, let's get you taken care of."
Days later, when Franklin has recovered enough from the ordeal to seek out the Solution Shop again, he finds himself unable to locate it. Where he thought it must be, there is merely a convenience store next to a deli. It is as though the shop never existed. He is not sure whether he wants to find the owner to scream at him for what was possibly the most sickening, most embarrassing experience of his life, or to thank him for allowing Franklin to meet someone with whom he's truly connected, someone for whom he already feels a fierce welling of tenderness and a burgeoning attraction that seems reciprocated.
But whether for reproach or gratefulness, it appears he will never get his chance. The shop has disappeared.