Big Bad Buddy

Just being me.

I have to say that I don’t really like girl’s panties.  I mean there okay, as far as being on a lady, but as far as a food item, they don’t provide a lot of nutrition.  So, they were in the laundry basket, three pairs of girl’s pantie, smelling like fresh flowers and I was thinking, “Hmmm, I wonder how irritating it would be to have my dog eat, my under garments?” 

Because, let’s face it, mommy is getting a little too comfortable with my role, as her little “buddybabylove”, that’s what she has been calling me, in this high-pitched, even it hurts my ears, and I’m a dog for crime’s sake way, you know?  So, I’m thinking how can I get her to stop and then I came up with this idea to start having “accidents” on her floor?  I know it’s childish, but what could I do?   I started defecating, that’s the correct term, apparently, on her brand new, plush, beige carpet.  It was funny, I was laughing my tail off, thinking how it would bring her down a peg or two and hopefully the tone of her voice, as well.  To my chagrin, though, upon discovering the pile of poo on her thick carpet, instead of being angry, she said, “Oh, is my buddybabylove sick or does he needs a whittle extra love?  I think he needs some more love!  Come here my little buddybaby.”  Boy can that chick lay it on; makes me want to puke.  

Anyway, the rest of the evening she had me sit on her lap, while she scratched behind my ears.  It was humiliating; I mean my leg was jumping up and down, like that rabbit, Thumper.  I had no control over it.  I just sat there with a stupid grin on my face and my tongue hanging out.  Sometimes, I make my own self sick and I knew this could not continue.

Plan B had to be hatched, but I couldn’t think of anything that would tick her off more than defecating on her new carpet.  Then, like I said, I came across her fresh batch of flower smelling laundry.  She had 3 pairs of panties that had just been washed.  Plan B was becoming clearer as I looked at those panties.  It would irritating right, to have your Golden Retriever eat your panties?  So, I grabbed the basket, tipped it over and started sucking those puppies down the hatch.  I was pretty proud of myself; I ate them without a lick of water.  With another stupid grin on my face, this time it was on purpose and more of an evil grin, I up righted the laundry basket, for human confusion and headed downstairs to play. 

A couple of hours went by and I was expecting the panties to start making their way down the colon, but that didn’t seem to be happening.  I took a little nap, helping the digestion process, but when I woke up, nothing had changed.  I could not feel less like pooing.  I ate some dog food, begged and received a few treats, while bearing the “buddybabylove” treatment, knowing I wouldn’t have to take it much long and hung out while a few more hours past by. 

I was watching the McNeil/Lehrer News Hour on PBS, because a dog should be informed, when suddenly and simultaneously a strange feeling and sound emanated from my bowels.  It was loud enough to cause both of the parental units to look away from the television, over and to the side, where I was lying.  The look on their faces, I will always remember; it was a look of fear mixed with curiosity.  “Is Buddy okay?” he turned his question to her.  I wanted to find it amusing, but I was starting to feel frightened myself, because that was an odd sound, and it was coming from me.

Just then it happened.   The spasms came on hard and I had no time to move.  Her carpet was going to have the beating of a lifetime and I knew it.  I wanted to scream, but dogs don’t really have a scream; it comes out as more of a bellow.   So, I bellowed in agony, as the spasms moved the panties through my colon.  Daddy jumped off the couch and flew over to me and I turned to him with a look that said, “Touch me, and you will see my inner bull dog come out!  I will rip your freakin’ head off!”

Daddy remained calm and said, “Okay, Buddy.  I won’t hurt you!  Let daddy help…” Another spasm came and things that are too gross to mention started to ooze from my nether regions.  I could hear mommy from across the room, it sounded like the eek of a mouse followed by a small cry and then she stammered, “Daniel, there’s… something hanging out, but I think you are going to have to…help him!”

Those words still haunt me to this day, because I knew they were true, at the time and what ensued was nothing short of a horror story.  I, Big, Bad, Buddy had to endure what only a female dog should have to endure. Yes, I with the help of my parental units as coaches; it’s hard to even say, but here it goes, I birthed 3 pairs of women’s panties.  Like not so tiny puppies, each panty was removed and each was more painful than the previous one, until all three panties were removed from my bowels and every stitch of fecal matter was cleansed from my person.   I was left humiliated with the knowledge that this was all of my own making.  I had no one to blame but myself.

It’s not the worst thing about this experience, but it pretty awful that the results have been quite the opposite of my intention.  I am being buddybabyloved more than ever, because I had been violated by 3 pairs of woman’s panties and now I am to be pitied.  And rather than being upset because her carpet had been stained, mommy has increased her love, attention, and the pitch of her voice.  I guess I can’t be too mad, though, I did put her through a horrible nightmare of a night.  I even sort of feel bad about it.  The poor woman will never be able to wear those panties; I mean, no amount of bleach…

Unfortunately, this is a true story.  If you are in doubt of its truth, just try and ever come up behind and grab me.  My inner bull dog does and has come out.  You can’t blame me though, can you?  After all, I wasn’t expecting the panties to become embedded in my bowels and therefore to have them removed so violently.  Well, you live, you learn and you never, ever, ever swallow 3 pairs of girl’s panties, again!