Story by The Brentwood Society

Patient Paws: A Police Community Outreach for a ComPet World

“Community outreach…” Minnie thought as she slurped and gagged on the thick, grubby shaft filling her hot, drooling mouth. “What a fucking joke! I’m supposed to be a police officer…I’m supposed to be breaking heads not giving head…” She adjusted slightly, trying to give her sore knees a break from the hard, stained concrete before she resumed her “duty.”

With her knees still aching, she felt sick as she bobbed her head in a steady rhythm, her noirette pigtails and perky, little breasts bouncing with her efforts. “God he reeks!” She brooded. “It’s like licking the bottom of a trashcan behind a fast food joint!”

Minnie struggled not to think about where she’d been just a few months before, back when she’d had a human name and human “privileges,” back when she’d been a real police officer with self-respect and not just a joke to her human co-workers and a “chew toy” for her “boss.” Her old life hardly seemed real in comparison to her new, perverse reality, and dwelling on it only made her more aware of just how far she’d fallen.

Her name had been Naomi Russell, junior police officer for the Central City Police Department. At age 21, she had just graduated from the police academy at the top of her class. She had a reputation for being aloof and stuck-up, making her very unpopular with her mostly male classmates. Just weeks after graduation she was given a “special offer” by the chief of the department. Coming from a family of cops, and being especially driven and ambitious, she jumped on the offer. Reportedly, all she had to do was accept a “benign” brain implant and spend a year doing performing “unconventional duties” and she’d get a big promotion. Everything was kept so vague, supposedly for security reasons. Even after she’d signed the paperwork and there was no backing out, information about the true nature of the assignment was only drip-fed to her. By the time she fully realized what her new role was to be, it was far too late to do anything but to accept her fate and dream of that promised promotion.

Naomi had unwittingly agreed to serve in the CCPD’s “Substitute K-9 Program.” Such programs had become more and more popular with various institutions, private and public alike, since the introduction and normalization of compulsory pet girl service. After the brain implant had healed, she received an ID tag in her left ear and a brand on her lower belly and rear-end, which was standard for those in the service. She was also given a tattoo over her breast and her upper arm: “EXP 911,” which distinguished her as an “experimental model.” It was a distinction that she really didn’t want.

Once Naomi was sorted, she traded in her smart police uniform for considerably more-humbling attire of a police K-9 Sub. That meant she had to wear restrictive paw mittens on hands with matching “booties” for her feet, undignified, faux German shepherd ears clipped to the top of her head, and a very uncomfortable tail plug nestled securely in her tight little behind. She still got to wear a badge at least, but it was attached to the blue collar she wore around her neck like a dog’s ID tag. Displaying her new role and name quite prominently, it was less of a shield of justice and more of a magnet for humiliating attention from co-workers and civilians alike.

As a “Sub K-9,” Minnie was tethered by the brain implant to her “boss,” a Doberman named Mickey. Someone had thought that they were immensely clever with the naming of the pair. Naomi—Minnie certainly didn’t agree. Minnie was required to use her connection with Mickey and her enhanced senses to analyze biological samples from crime scenes—especially crimes of passion—and to assist in security checks for contraband. That was only her main role, however. She also had to be available, day or night, for “extra special assignments.”

Though most other areas of Central City had been steadily improving over the previous decades, Old Town had remained a notorious slum rife with poverty and corruption. The “tough on crime” types had tried to clean up the area through multiple initiatives over the years, but things had only gotten worse. Switching tactics, the CCPD introduced a new community outreach program known as “Patient Paws.” Minnie—lucky her—was on the front lines of this new initiative. Rather than breaking up homeless camps and arresting residents who were “acting out,” Minnie would be sent in to calm and connect with them using “unique” Sub K-9 techniques.

That was how Minnie found herself kneeling on a street corner, with some smelly, unwashed derelict’s foul-tasting, smelly rod slamming down her protesting throat. Ten minutes before, he’d been ranting and raving and waving his rather large member at passing cars and pedestrians. With her quick action, Minnie had managed to de-escalate the situation.

“A warm snout for those without!” Minnie repeated one of the stupid outreach slogans in her head a few times, as if it would make the job any easier.

With both hands on either side of her head, the bum looked down and gave her a nearly toothless grin as he bottomed out in her mouth for the tenth time, his hairy, grimy sack slapping against her drool slicked chin. Minnie didn’t want to meet his gaze, but she’d been trained to maintain eye-contract. It let the distraught citizen know that the officer cared. Not that she actually did. Minnie—Naomi—had been one of the “tough on crime” types. As far as she was concerned, she should have been taking a rod to him—a nightstick—across his stupid, ugly face!

With tears blurring her vision, Minnie pressed her paw mittens against the homeless man’s filthy pants on reflex; even though she was supposed to keep them in a begging posture to show her eagerness to help. Her pathetic mewling did not attract the attention of Officer Rawlings, her handler, or if it did, he made no move to help her. He was probably sitting in the patrol car down the block vaping with his feet up on the dashboard. The idea that a man who’d barely graduated from the academy got such a posh assignment while someone as accomplished as her was stuck on her knees made her blood boil.

Minnie felt a little jolt inside her head, like she’d just put her finger in a light socket. Though she couldn’t see him because her face was buried in a crotch, she knew that Mickey, her boss, was watching her and he didn’t approve of her thoughts or her posture. The petite puppy girl reluctantly dropped her dainty, pressing paws, sat up straighter and looked sharply into the eyes of the homeless man and tried to suck with more gusto.

“No house? Try my little mouth! Ugh, that one doesn’t even really rhyme!”

The minor shock in her brain was as replaced with the warm fuzzy feeling that always accompanied one of the officers patting her head and calling her a “good girl.” Minnie tried to lean into the phantom head pat and rubbed her tongue against the bottom of the cruddy, veiny shaft.

The homeless man gasped and his hips thrust forward. “Fuck, ‘officer’ you got a mouth on ya!” He declared as he slid in and out of her mouth like a greased piston.

Minnie found herself praying that the smelly bastard would cum soon, but at the same time praying that he never would. With her enhanced senses she could only imagine how awful he was going to taste.

“No Abode? Give her your load!” Minnie tried to build some enthusiasm by running another ridiculous slogan through her head.

She couldn’t do it.

It was too gross even for someone with her countless, disgusting experiences.

Minnie was prepared for another reprimand shock, but she straightened up for another reason. Mickey’s warm wet tongue slid between the delicate pink folds between her slender, pale thighs. It was department policy that none of the human officers copulate with her, lest she get confused about her role as a proper police puppy. That didn’t mean, however, that they couldn’t tease her relentlessly, which of course they did. Minnie spent a lot of her off time getting mercilessly fingered or being made to do “shoe shines” by humping the footwear of her former academy classmates. Officer Rawlings, in fact, had finger-fucked her brutally right before letting her out of the car that very morning.

It was still just teasing.

“Boys will be boys” was the mantra.

Department policy also dictated, however, that she never be allowed release while on duty, ostensibly to keep her on track and focused.

Unlike Officer Rawlings, Mickey always stayed close and vigilant to both monitor her behavior and to protect her if the situation turned ugly. While they didn’t communicate in words, the brain implant allowed the big dog to sense her trepidation. Being a caring boss, he did what he could to help his little subordinate to perform her disgusting duty.

Minnie’s eyes shot open the moment the tip of Mickey’s rough tongue touched her. The constant, cruel denial made her receptive, even if the idea would have appalled her not too long ago.

“Ha!” The bum sniggered. “Thanks, boy! Warm her up a little more for me!”

Mickey’s obliged. His tongue plunged deep inside of Minnie, lapping at her quivering, clenching inner walls. Unable to escape the unbearable, pleasurable sensations, she suckled on the thick thing in her mouth, making the gross man attached to it gasp.

“Fuck! Fuck, you dirty, fucking mutt!” He grunted, his hips rocking against her face. His thick tangle of greasy pubic hair tickled her button nose and engulfed her in his miasma.

Minnie was too lost in tongue-induced ecstasy to brace for the hot, sticky load that filled her mouth. When the flavor hit her extra-sensitive taste buds she gagged and pulled back, taking the other half of the load on her apple-red cheeks as she coughed and sputtered. Strings of saliva and spunk dripped onto her pert breasts, her smooth, flat belly, and the tops of her thighs.

The bum looked down at her. He seemed really pleased with himself. “God damn…” He shook his head at Minnie’s cum-covered, retching form. “Hey!” He called down the street at five or six other disheveled bums like him. “Come on over, guys, this slutty little thing is hungry for more! Hey, Amy, you too, I bet she’s just as hungry for cunt as she is for cock!”

Minnie wiped her chin with her paw and looked over at Mickey. He licked his chops with calm poise that she desperately wished she had. It was going to be a long afternoon for them both.

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Hi, y’all!
Here’s a ComPet collaboration between me and the talented Brentwood who wrote this story! Once again we revisited Minnie and Mickey from Sub-K9!

No shoutout this time since it’s an extreme content^^”

Want more of Brentwood? Of course you do! Check his work out here (Many Compet stories and more!) :
https://www.deviantart.com/thebrentwoodsociety
https://thebrentwoodsociety.blogspot.com

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