personalias
patreon
Alby & Max (Part 2)
🕑 Added 2023-01-18 11:50:05 +0000 UTC(Part 2)
Max gazed down at the passed out dog on his nursery floor, drenched in his own piss. He snickered to himself in tiny little puffs through his nose. His eyes took in the diapers and the baby powder the little twat had knocked over.
He had a thought and winced. “Would’ve had to hit the table hard to knock those diapers loose,” he said to himself. “Ouch.” Max could already see a bit of swelling on the top of Alby’s head. The younger man’s snoring and mumbling being the primary thing that let Max know that he wasn’t dead or brain damaged. Probably not brain damaged…
How easy would it be, Max wondered, to make Alby’s stay in the nursery a bit more…long term? Max already had enough supplies: Diapers, wipes, powder, gags, mittens, booties, restraints.
How simple would it be for the bigger, taller, stronger wolf, to dress the boss’s son up in diapers and mittens and contain him in a big enough crib? Force feed him bottles laced with laxatives until he messed? Get him good and wet and squishy and then take a vibrating wand to him but stopping from going all the way until Alby begged him to cum. Or put him in chastity and tease him until he couldn’t take it anymore?
Then parade him around the office on a pink toddler leash wearing nothing but a Little Bo Peep dress and tights that did nothing to hide what was underneath. All to culminate with the broken little sissy getting on his knees and sucking Max off in front of everyone.
That’s how it worked in the stories, anyhow. Too bad this wasn’t a story. Kidnapping people was highly illegal, not to mention to unethical, even if they were brats and bullies. That and Max wasn’t much for prolonged torture and humiliation. He knew himself to have something of a temper and could hold a grudge like a mother fucker, but tying someone up and humiliating someone (against their will), just wasn’t who he was.
Threaten? Bluff? Intimidate? Even cold cock a guy? Sure, if they had it coming. But kidnapping? Prolonged humiliation and torture? Sexual assault even? That wasn’t who Max was. Save it for the role play forums. That and Max didn’t want Alby’s lips anywhere near his dick. He didn’t even like the mutt.
Flirting with revenge fantasies complete, Max set about doing what was more than likely the right, albeit less satisfying thing. Gently, he rolled Alby onto his back and then hoisted him up off the urine soaked nursery carpet and onto the custom made changing table. The wolf grit his teeth and groaned in doing so. Alby wasn’t bigger than him and didn’t have the middle aged beer gut that Albert Madden Sr. had, but he wasn’t helping either. It sucked deadlifting someone.
“Goddamn motherin fuckin’ Daddy’s boy,” Max grumbled more to himself than to the unconscious dog. He’d just finished making that table too. Hours in his tool shed carving, sanding, assembling, and painting till it was perfect. Somebody, literally anybody else, was supposed to lay on this changing table, not Alby. It was honestly a waste of a maiden voyage.
He worked the Doberman's pants off from around his knees and flapped them out for inspection. As anticipated they were wet, but more so at the waistline than the crotch. Alby had had them down part way before the dam had broken and the urine had either run down his legs or just puddled beneath him.
Max tossed them onto the rim of the hamper right by the diaper pail. They were going straight into the wash after this, but he needed them out of the way for the time being. Next came Alby’s soaking wet underpants.
The wolf mentally corrected himself: Alby’s soaking wet panties. Max dug his cell phone out of his pocket and took a picture. The angle was narrow enough to make it hard to tell what Alby was laying on, but wide enough to identify who was in the picture and what they were wearing.
“Just in case…” Max whispered. He heaved the Doberman's legs up and reached his arms around so he could shimmy the red satin panties off his hips down past his ankles. Max held the soiled underwear by his thumb and forefinger. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he wasn’t at least tempted to toss them in the pail and replace them with something much thicker and more crinkly.
Never mind all that, Max decided. He gingerly hung the soaked panties over the pants and made for removing Alby’s shirt. That was the hardest part. It was almost as wet as the underwear, clinging to his, and he had to roll the drunken mess one way to get one sleeve off and then the other to remove it entirely.
Alby was a living ragdoll the entire time. If Max had liked the little bully, it might have even been endearing. As things stood it was just the lesser of two inconveniences. A passed out Alby was more tolerable than a conscious one. That and he was genuinely wondering how much Alby had seen and recognized before he passed out.
It was a good thing the Daddy’s Boy didn’t have many friends at the office. Max didn’t want to explain to anyone why he had a changing table and crib big enough to hold an adult, nor diapers with cartoon prints on them big enough to fit. Things might get difficult if Mr. Madden got that whispered into his ear, which was another good reason for taking that photo. Mutually assured destruction and all that.
Now how to clean him up? Ideally, Max would have preferred to use a shower or a bathtub. It was late however and Max didn’t want to have to prop up Alby to keep his head above water and he didn’t have a shower chair to sit him in. That and it might wake him up. He didn’t trust the safety straps enough to leave his unconscious co-worker alone long enough to get a wash cloth and a buck of soapy water, either. Easier to just wipe him down here and now with the supplies on hand.
“Baby wipes it is,” Max concluded. Gently, carefully, almost lovingly he pulled the first wipe from the pack and started to pat and wipe the younger man down, first his thighs down to his knees. Then another wipe for the other. Then a third for his genitals.
Alby twitched when the cold wipe first touched his penis. Max froze like he’d been caught and held his breath. He went so far as to take a step back and hold his hands up by his chest defensively.
Instead of waking up, Alby mumbled “Daddy” and popped his right thumb into his mouth.
Max couldn’t help but softly smile. “I think he likes it,” he remarked as Alby sucked. He finished wiping down Alby’s pubic area, penis, and testicles, and pushed the man-child’s knees back up to his stomach so he could grab another wipe and get at his taint and bottom.
Alby moaned in his sleepy stupor and sucked his thumb harder. “Mmmmm….”
The wolf’s eyes widened in surprise. Wow. Kid didn’t know it, but he seemed to like it. Max tossed the wipe away and looked back down below Alby’s waist. To his not-quite surprise, Alby’s penis was getting visibly excited and standing at attention thanks to all of the tender, if cold caresses from the baby wipes down there.
“Yeah,” he chuckled to himself. “He definitely likes it.” Idly, Max wondered what would happen if he invested in a wipe warmer. Max dug out his phone again and took another picture. Christine from sales wouldn’t be getting much trouble out of Alby if Max had anything to say about it.
He didn’t know what would be more embarrassing to the grown-up pup: A picture of him passed out in women’s underwear, or one of him sucking his thumb and sporting a healthy erection, but he’d find out soon enough. Just because Max wasn’t going to physically torture the brat didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use this incident against him.
He patted down Alby’s belly with two or three more wipes and then disposed of them. Half by reflex, he reached for a bottle of baby powder and sprinkled some on over Alby’s nethers before he fully realized what he was doing.
“Mmmmmm…” Alby groaned behind his thumb, his muzzle breaking into a dopey smile. “Yesh Babby…”
This sounded silly considering Max was in his private kink nursery, but Max had to say it. “Dude…you’ve got issues.” Alby just kept sucking his thumb. He continued powdering the twenty-five year old’s rump and sprinkled a bit on his chest and thighs for good measure. If he missed a spot wiping, the powder would at least dry him out and cover up the smell until Alby could give himself a proper shower.
Now came the hardest question. What to dress him in? He certainly wouldn’t fit in Max’s pajamas. Their size difference was enough that Alby would practically look like a child trying on Daddy’s clothes with sleeves flopping all the way over his arms and pant legs completely covering his feet.
The thought of Alby wearing his clothes didn’t sit right with Max for multiple reasons. Chief among them was that it felt like it would be going too easy on him. Like a drunken douchebag, Alby had battered down his private door, pissed himself, and passed out on the floor. What kind of lesson would that teach him if he just woke up a little hungover in the morning?
It wasn’t in Max’s nature to be overly cruel, but the keyword in that thought process was ‘overly’. Alby was still due for a little payback, and the pictures of him passed out in panties wouldn’t balance the budget in Max’s eyes. Alby had already earned that for being a tool. This specific violation required a different kind of penalty.
While he was pondering such intricacies, Alby’s free hand drifted down to his penis and he started rubbing it. His hips thrust lightly so his dick pressed up against his open palm and he mumbled and moaned incoherently around his thumb. His hand didn’t grip anything, probably because Alby didn’t consciously know that he was masturbating.
It didn’t make things any more pleasant from Max’s perspective. “Ooooh no!” Max said out loud. “Oh no no no no.” He rushed over to the nearest dresser drawer and dug out a pair of baby panties. They were cotton pastel yellow underwear with butterflies on them, and were thick enough to where they could withstand a light wetting without dripping. In the past, Max had had some play partners who were into potty training play over full on diaper wearing and he’d had accommodated them.
Presently, Max swatted Alby’s hand away from his privates and slipped the childish looking undergarment onto him. “Not doing that here, kid,” he said.
Alby seemed to settle, the firm pressure coming from the snug panties pleasing his impotent lust enough so that he stopped fiddling with himself. Max would probably burn those panties tomorrow night just in case.
Yet the moment of problem solving killed two birds with one stone in Max’s mind. He suddenly had a very good idea on how he could pay Alby back and have the tiniest bit of fun to boot. The wolf turned his head to the dresser and nodded to himself. “Bingo…”
********************************************************************************************************
THOK-THOK-THOK-THOK!
WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
THOK-THOK-THOK-THOK!
Alby woke up in terrible pain. His head was throbbing in the worst way. His pulse in his temples hammered him from the inside out and there was a nasty ringing in his ears that made his teeth hurt that Alby only experienced at the dentist. His eyes ached so that the minor motes of light that came in through the soft navy blue curtains might as well have been tiny boxing gloves smacking him right in his corneas. If he thought about it too much, he noticed how the throbbing in his head was mirrored in his neck so that every heartbeat felt like someone was lightly strangling him.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuh,” Alby groaned raspily, his throat dry and crackling. “I am never drinking again.”
He would have rolled over, grabbed a pillow, and slammed it over his head, except his bladder was screaming at him to get up. His bowels too. He was not going to be able to go back to sleep like this, and worse would happen if he waited much longer.
The Doberman threw off the comforter and swung his feed over the side of the bed, rising up and scraping the crust out of his eyes. It took two seconds for Alby to realize he hadn’t woke up in his own bed. His California King that he never made had been usurped by a Queen size mattress covered in heavy navy blue comforters. The walls were a calming beige decorated by oil paintings of sailboats.
Memories of the night before bubbled up to the surface. Too much to drink. Looking for a bathroom. Busting down the door and hitting his head in the dark. He was still at the farmhouse! Max’s place!
A quiet curse was replaced by confusion when the Doberman looked down at himself. Head to toe, he was dressed in pretty pink pajamas with a kitty cat print. It looked like something a little girl would wear to a sleepover. “The he-?”
THOK-THOK-THOK-THOK!
Alby slammed his paws over his ears and shut his eyes in pain. It seemed the throbbing and the pain weren’t completely internalized after all. The stinging in his bladder, and the rumbling in his guts however…
Prioritize and triage time! Alby could deal with the strange (yet oddly comfortable and pretty) clothes later. He needed to find a bathroom and pronto! Alby flung the door open so hard that the knob banged against the inner wall and he stepped out into the hallway.
“Easy there!” a nearby voice scolded him. “You wanna put a hole in my wall?” Max was just across and a little further down the upstairs hallway. He was hammering and drilling at the bathroom that Alby had been denied last night.
“I need to get in there!” Alby yelped, immediately resorting to holding himself to prevent leakage.
Max stopped hammering. “You most certainly do not!” he said.
Alby’s sense of competitiveness and need to be seen as in charge was overwhelmed by a very different need. “Bathroom! I need to use the bathroom.”
Max pointed down the hall. “That way! It’s open! You can’t miss it! Go!”
Alby sprinted further down the hallway, still holding himself. He didn’t even say ‘Thank You’. The young Doberman shut the bathroom door behind him at the very last second. His payload releasing itself into the waiting bowl before he had fully sat down. He sighed in relief while his overfull bladder hissed and his irritated bowels spluttered.
Every passing second brought a bit of pain followed immediately by passing relief, like when a blood pressure cuff comes off. There were aches and pains, but it was from the sore muscles finally getting to ease their burden. His innards clearing themselves out didn’t do much for the other symptoms of his hangover, but he was at least able to think about something else, like how much the light fucking hurt his eyes.
He leaned forward on his knees and held his head there for a minute. His eyes looked down between his legs and he took in the sight of the thick yellow panties he’d pulled down in order to use the toilet.
“These aren’t mine…” he mouthed the words more than spoke them aloud.
CUNK-CUNK-CUNK!
A loud rapping at the door rattled Alby and made him jump.
“When you’re done in there, we need to talk!” Max’s voice sounded from the other side. Alby dry swallowed, his throat feeling like gravel. He was in different underwear. That meant that Max had seen what he’d been wearing before. He knew! That was why he’d been dressed like this, as some kind of sick joke! Alby would never hear the end of this. His life was over. “Can you hear me?” Max boomed. “Don’t tell me you passed out again!”
“I’m in here!” Alby called back, his voice sounding ragged. “Just…give me a minute, okay?”
“Alright,” Max answered. “I’ll be waiting in the hall.”
Alby rested his head back in his hands and took a moment to feel sorry for himself. “The hell am I gonna do?” He felt tears threaten but none came. Either he was too dehydrated from last night or he was digging down into his reserves to keep from breaking entirely.
Sitting up straight, he gathered his faculties as best he could, flushed, wiped, flushed again, and pulled his pants back up. He took an extra long time washing his hands and staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He could practically hear his father’s voice scolding him, telling him how ridiculous he looked; calling him a disgrace right before firing him. It was a shame. He’d never admit it, but he thought he looked kind of cute in the girlish pee-jays.
“You can do this,” he whispered to himself. “You can still come out on top.” He wasn’t some tap dancing con artist in sales. He was the office manager! He. Got. Shit. Done.
As psyched as he tried to be, his momentum was killed the instant he stepped away from the sink and remembered what he was wearing. Having his slight ‘indiscretion’ on underneath his regular clothes gave him a kind of charge that put him on alert that he channeled into boosted confidence. Having his under and outerwear match, though? Let’s just say the effect was greatly diminished.
Max was leaning up against the wall in the hallway, just a few steps away from a drunken Alby had thought was the bathroom last night. His arms were crossed over his chest and his body at ease. “Morning,” Alby said, clearing his throat.
“Good afternoon,” Max corrected him.
“Oh,” Alby felt his face flush. “Good afternoon. Happy New Year?”
“Happy New Year,” Max nodded. “So do you want to tell me what you were doing or should I tell you?”
Alby gulped again and smacked his chops. “I uh…really had to go to the bathroom.” Alby sheepishly admitted.
“And?” Max asked expectantly.
Alby patted the top of his head and winced. “And I hit my head I think…?”
“And?”
“And I was drunk but I’m really sorry.”
Max stopped leaning against the wall and stood up to his full height. He wasn’t directly facing Alby, not looming over him, but Alby still felt a twinge of intimidation coming off the wolf. “You were looking for a bathroom, and so you found the first- and only- locked door you could find, and you busted it open,” Max said. “Now I’ve got to get a new door. You might’ve warped the frame too.”
“Oh,” Alby looked down at his feet, pretending to focus on the bright pink cat pajamas around his waist.
“You also peed all over your clothes and ruined my carpet.”
Alby could hear the tapping claws of Max’s foot. “Sorry…” He mumbled, feeling like a naughty puppy. Staring down at his clothes, he remembered to muster a bit of outrage. He lifted his head and made eye contact. “Why the heck am I wearing this though? This some kind of joke?”
It was hard to tell whether Max was stifling a laugh or just clearing his throat. “You’d pissed yourself. I wasn’t about to risk you doing it again to my clothes. My niece’s leftovers were the only thing I had that fit you.”
It was a blatant lie, but Alby didn’t know that. It was one that spared his feelings. “Oh…”
“That and I thought you’d like wearing them.”
So much for that bit of comfort. Alby looked back down. “Oh…you saw that, huh?”
“Hard not to,” Max replied. “Your pants were down.” A beat. “And you’d pissed yourself.”
The floor seemed very interesting all of a sudden. “Sorry,” Alby said.
“What side did you wake up on?” the wolf asked.
Confusion shook Alby’s head back up. “Excuse me?”
“I left you on your belly. Did you roll over?”
“Oh,” Alby scratched behind his ears. “Yeah. I was on my back.”
“Any vomit? Did you puke?” Max continued. “Is there more to clean up?”
“No!” Alby yelped. “At least, I don’t think so.” He brushed off and looked down at the hot pink kitty cats on his chest. There was no vomit or anything that he could see. He sniffed himself to see if he picked up any traces of stomach acid or partly digested food on him. “Baby powder?”
Max’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” he said. “Come on downstairs. Let’s get some breakfast.”
“Don’t you mean lunch?” Alby asked.
“Whatever.”
**************************************************************************************************
There was a few minutes of blessed silence while Max grilled up hot dogs and heated up baked beans in a skillet. Max cut up the hot dogs and stirred them into the skillet. Then he slopped them onto a plate and set in front of Alby. “Here,” Max said. “Eat up.”
“Thanks,” Alby said. From how he talked, there was an implied ‘I guess’, though that could just be Max’s bias showing.
Max piled some of the stuff on his own plate, right as the toaster popped and added two crisp slices of recooked bread on top of everything before sitting down at the breakfast table. Beanie weenies wasn’t anything fancy, but it was good fatty hangover food. Max noticed the two aspirins he’d given Alby had been gulped down dry. He pointed to the glass of water he’d placed in front of the dog. “Drink.”
Alby gingerly forked some beans into his mouth. “I’m not very thirsty.”
“You’re dehydrated,” Max said. “I don’t want you keeling over halfway home. Drink.”
The Doberman took the glass and started sipping. Gingerly at first, but after a few gulps he was lapping it up with gusto. “Oh wow!” he gasped. “This is great!”
“It’s just water,” Max said. “It tastes great because you basically poisoned yourself.” Max kept wanting to tack on words like ‘dummy’ and ‘stupid’ at the end of every sentence, and his tone did nothing to hide it. He was still mad at the guy. Having to fix his nursery door and scrub the carpet clean was not how he had intended to spend his new year and he certainly wasn’t going to let Alby do it.
“Thanks,” Alby said after he’d chugged down the water. He started to eat with more gusto, shoveling down the chow like it was life saving medicine.
Max picked up a piece of toast and tossed it on top of Alby’s plate. “Here,” he said. “Use this at the end to wipe up the bits of sauce and leftovers.”
Alby examined the bread, and put it to the side. “Edible napkin. Got it.”
Max ate some of his own food, deciding to give the little trespasser a few minutes to breathe. This was meant to be restorative justice after all, so let the kid restore himself a little bit. That and Max was admittedly hungry.
They ate in silence, the only noise being the clinking of forks on plates, the gnashing of teeth against gobs of beans and chopped up wieners, and near the end the crisp crunch of bread scraping up leftovers.
“So,” Max said when they were finished. “Let’s talk about a few things.”
Alby’s guard instantly went up. “Alright…”
Max took his phone out and showed Alby the pictures he’d taken. He still couldn’t tell which of the two he’d taken the one of him in the soaking wet panties or the one with him sucking his thumb with a full erection- mortified Alby more. But they did mortify him. That was enough.
“From now on,” Max said, “you’re gonna take it easy at the office. No more holding services or slow rolling orders for people on your bad side.”
“You’re black mailing me?” Alby’s ears drew back.
“I’m not an expert on the term, but I don’t think so,” Max said confidently. “Not by the strictest definition. I’m not asking you to give me money. I’m just asking you to do your job.”
“I do do my job!” Alby said, sounding defensively.
“Listening in to other people’s phone calls is part of your job?”
“They were on company time!”
Max tucked the phone back into his pocket. “I’m not gonna argue with you, Alby, because I don’t have to. You’re not our supervisor, not our manager, you’re the office manager. I’m asking you to do your job, and only your job.”
“But my dad-!”
“Pretty sure your dad didn’t ask you to do that,” Max cut him off. “And like I said. I’m not arguing with you. You’re going to stop being such a petty bitch at work.”
No doubt refreshed by cold water and greasy food, Alby narrowed his eyes. “Or else what…?”
Max didn’t back down. “I can promise you that if you just take it easy no one but you or me will know about those pretty little panties you like to wear, or how you’re a thumb sucker.” He purposefully left out how he evidently liked getting his butt wiped. “But if you don’t, there are people who will know. Can’t promise who, but people will know.”
Alby drooped back down along with his ears. “I didn’t know about the thumb thing…” he said, sounding dreadfully ashamed.
Max felt a twinge of sympathy for the twerp and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you wouldn’t if it’s in your sleep.” He tried his best to sound conciliatory.
“Yeah.” Alby moped.
“Yeah.” Max agreed.
After a minute, Alby found the wherewithal to speak. “So…what next?”
“We talk about how you’re going to get your clothes back, and go home for the rest of the weekend.” Max said.
“Okay…” Alby replied suspiciously. ‘How?”
“You busted my door down. I’m gonna need you to make it right,” Max said.
Nervously Alby looked around the room and patted his pajama bottoms as if looking for his wallet or phone. “Sure sure,” he said. “Let me get my wallet. You can order the new door and use my credit card. Or I can zelle you the money after you give me the receipt.”
Max shook his head softly. “Nope. Not like that. I don’t have your Daddy’s money, but I can afford to fix a door. It’s the principle of the thing. You broke something, now you have to fix something.”
Alby frowned. “I don’t know how to fix a door,” he half-whined.
Max gestured around the kitchen. Bottles of booze and full trash cans still littered the periphery. Both of them had seen worse messes, but it still looked like a pain in the ass. “You’re going to clean up down here. Take out the trash. Wash the dishes. Do some vacuuming and dusting.”
“Chores?” Alby smirked. “You’re having me do chores?”
“Unless you want to go home in those pajamas,” Max said.
Alby seemed to consider it, stroking his chin. “Okay. That’s fair.” He stood up from the kitchen. “I’ll clean up a bit and then we pretend this whole thing never happened. Deal?”
Max leaned further back in his chair at the breakfast table. “There’s one other small condition,” he said. “I had to clean up your pee soaked britches. So you need to do a little extra. You’ve got to wear a uniform.”
“What uniform?” Alby cocked his eyebrow.
***********************************************************************************
This sucked. This totally sucked. Alby couldn’t believe he agreed to this. There was no agreement however. Max was dealing purely in ultimatums. Either he went home in girly pajamas, or he picked up Max’s house.
His entire body felt like it was on fire from embarrassment. He should have just bit the bullet and drove home. Nobody would be able to tell what he was wearing while driving, and the run from the parking lot to his apartment wasn’t that far. He could have been a regular blur so that nobody would think he was wearing anything worse than a tacky jogging suit.
Yet he’d taken the deal. He’d taken the deal and he didn’t know why. Truthfully, he knew why, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself.
The uniform that Max had mandated he wear was a full blown French Maid costume. White stockings jutted up to his knees, complemented by the frilled half apron draped over the frilly black dress with gray ruffles that didn’t go far enough for Alby’s liking. Everytime he bent over, he felt a draft on his stark white panties. Max even made him wear the white bonnet hat.
Max had made him dust the shelves, standing on his tippy toes, followed by a thorough vacuuming of the floor. As he worked, Alby felt Max’s eyes (and more importantly phone) on him, taking in his humiliation. Despite how the food, water, and rest had helped revive him, Alby felt terribly sick. Over the vacuum’s roar he kept imagining people at work seeing him like this.
It…
It…
It was a rush in the worst possible way.
Max shouted something over the vacuum and Alby had to cut the power to hear him. “What?” Alby asked.
“I said I think that’s enough vacuuming,” Max said. “I’ve got plenty of footage and you’ve gone over that same section of carpet seven or eight times.” He had the biggest shit eating grin and had been following Alby around with a decidedly obnoxious swagger.
Nervously, Alby fluffed out the skirt. He’d never dared wear something like this before. “Where did you get this, anyways?”
“Costume shop,” Max said.
“Why?”
“That’s not important,” Max replied. “All you gotta do, now, is take out the trash and I’ll give you your clothes back.’
Some bit of intuition was plaguing Alby. “Because I trashed your room?”
“Yup.”
“What’d I mess up, again?” Alby asked.
“The carpet.” Max said brusquely.
“Yeah, but what was in that room? What kind of room was it?”
Max looked ready to bark. “Do you want your clothes back or do you want to stay in that frilly little maid’s dress?”
“I…I….” Alby stammered feeling like he might incinerate the cotton covering his fur. He positioned himself so that he was standing directly in front of Max so the big wolf wouldn’t see his tail wagging. “I want my thing back. Please. That was the deal.”
“Then live up to your end of it,” Max said, just barely suppressing a snarl.
“Yes sir!” Alby yelped, tucking his tail and getting back to work. He trotted to the kitchen. Max had been kind enough to already remove the garbage bags from their cans and tie them off. All that was left for Alby to do was to take them outside and put them by the curb at the end of the long driveway.
The young Doberman allowed himself a smirk while he hefted up the hefty bags. He’d finally figured it out. Max had some of the same kind of strange habits and secrets that Alby did. Probably more if they needed a whole room to contain them. Alby only dared to have an underwear drawer and a few hangers in his closets.
The wolf had him over a barrel at present, but whatever was in that room was something Max definitely didn’t want Alby seeing or knowing about. The office manager clung to the hope that maybe he could arrange some kind of mutually assured destruction to get Max off his back.
That and maybe find a way to get an outfit like this…
Alby’s situation took on a new level of gravity when he stepped outside. Never in his life had he been in the open air wearing something like this. He’d felt like a daredevil on the days when he switched things up with his underwear. But walking out in the afternoon sunshine dressed like this took things to a new level.
His heart went pitter patter while he trotted along the long walkway leading out past the privacy fence. His mind analyzed and felt every swish of his skirt and how it moved slightly with the crisp breeze. It was still cold enough to where Alby should have needed a coat, but his body felt incredibly warm all the same from all the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins.
“Almost done,” Alby said to himself. “Almost done. Then I can put this…behind…”
The sissified Doberman froze in his tracks as a car pulled up to the gate. His quiet enjoyment turning to absolute terror. Someone was coming! Someone from the office! He looked behind him to the few remaining cars parked in the field. Someone was coming back for their car! What if they saw him wearing…this?! He’d be ruined! He’d never hear the end of this or command an ounce of respect ever again.
What if Dad found out?
Tail between his legs and still carrying the garbage bags, Alby bolted back towards the farmhouse. He buried his nuzzle in the black plastic bags, hoping against hope that it would somehow conceal his identity.
Non-kinky people hired maids, right? Of course they did. Or fuck! Maybe he was a kinky maid, as long as he wasn’t recognized as himself!
Panting and whimpering, Alby almost broke down the second door in as many days, this one belonging to the kitchen, and slammed it behind him.
“What are you doing?” Max asked, sounding confused and annoyed. “I told you to take out the trash.”
Alby dropped the bags back onto the kitchen floor and collapsed to his knees. “Please don’t make me go out there, Max!” he begged. “Please don’t make me go. I can’t. I just can’t.”
Max frowned. “A deal’s a deal Al-”
“No, you don’t understand!” Alby almost screamed. “I can’t go out there! Not right now! They’ll see me!”
“I’ve got a privacy fence,” Max scoffed.
“Someone came back for their car! Someone from work!” Finally, those tears that had been threatening earlier that day broke loose and ran all the way down Alby’s face. “I’m sorry I fucked up your door, but please let me wait till their gone. Please!”
Max’s expression immediately changed. One from a stern and angry know-it-all to someone softer and more compassionate. He stepped closer and helped Max to his feet. “I’m sorry, Alby. I didn’t know. Of course you can wait inside until whomever drives off.”
“They can’t know!” Alby begged, his emotions boarding on hysterical. “They just can’t! Please Max!”
Max peered out the kitchen window and clicked his tongue. “It looks like Barbara from H.R. I think you’re okay. If she says anything about it, I’ll spin it so it won’t seem embarrassing. Turn you into the class clown or something.” He turned his head and smiled at the dog. “It’ll be funny.”
“She can’t know!” Alby said breathlessly. “Please, Max!”
Alby found himself pressed up against Max’s chest, held there and petted by big strong arms.
“Okay,” Max shushed him. “She won’t know. No one will know.”
“Promise?” Alby asked.
“Promise,” Max said. “We’re square. You’re gonna be fine.”
