When I was just a puppy, I was given to a girl whose parents had nicknamed her "Fluffy." She was a heavyset girl who had developed far-sightedness remarkably early in life. She liked to bathe me more than you'd think a teenager would, but it didn't bother me so much, being dragged into the shower with her and scrubbed as she showered herself. Having my asshole fingered didn't bother me so much either because of the tone of voice she used when she did it and the way she grasped the loose hair at the top of my neck and kneaded it between her fingers. She'd watch me lick myself afterward at the base of my penis, where my balls still were – I was only a puppy – and she'd stop me with her foot after long minutes then, arbitrarily, minutes later, allow me to start again. I'd sleep with her at night. She'd took me into her bedroom and pulled out a long flexible rod that she would smear something on. I'd hear her panting heavily as she slid it roughly in and out of my shitter, her hand tight on my collar as I whimpered in confused pain. One day, Fluffy's dad put me in the car and took me somewhere I never want to go back to. The man there gave me an injection and, when I woke up, my balls were gone. The man gave Fluffy's dad a prescription for some Tramadol to help with what he claimed would be "discomfort." Fluffy was especially eager to take me to bed that night. She ran her fingers gently along the scabbed over scar where my balls had been, pinching the skin softly then roughly then stroking then soft then rough again. She strapped the rubber rod around her waist and turned some music on very loud. I howled as Fluffy buried her rod in my ass. She took me for over an hour and a half, abusing my shitter with the best fucking of its life. She grabbed my collar and yanked my head back, speaking firmly, then began pulling me back into her, encouraging me to rock back onto her pounding hips. Finally, she sank down beside me, spent and smelly and grabbed my skin roughly at the jowl, pinching it, and said, "You're mine."