Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The beast sat in his red Ford Ranger, his predatory stare fixated on the puppies in the field. From the parking lot, he could see a plethora of prey. A pink poodle was flapping her arms like a… butterfly, maybe? with an Afghan Hound sporting a vest. His intense canine nose picked up the scent of the two puppies; shampoo, fresh grass, and granola. He turned his head to the other side, observing some others. A dachshund rolling down the hill, a bulldog getting a little too close to a Dalmatian, and a blue heeler playing horsies with a beagle were just some sites the beast could observe. His ears picked up as he heard a graceful, almost angelic voice from around the corner.

“Children! Come inside, now. It’s storytime!” The voice shouted. The beast looked closely, seeing an Aussie shepherd coming out the door. Her name escapes the mind of the beast, but he knows her as the gorgeous teacher of his niece. The Aussie shepherd looks at the unfamiliar car in the parking lot of her school. Now, who could this be? With careful steps, the tri-colored shepherd approaches the vehicle.

“Hello, can I help you? Are you here to pick up a student?” She asks. The man doesn’t look too suspicious to her. He looks like he could be related to one of her students.

“Ah, nah, mate. I’m just here to check my map.” He replies, pulling out his phone and opening the SatNav app.

The Australian shepherd nods with a calm smile on her face.

“Okay, then. Do you need any help getting around?” She asks, but the dog shakes his head.

“Aw, you don’t need to. I got it. Thank you.” The woman backs away as the dog drives around until he’s facing the exit, promptly leaving.

Calypso raises her eyebrow; nobody has ever stopped here, except to drop off or pick up their children. Deep down, Calypso could feel that something was off about the man, but another part of her told herself that he was a friendly bloke, she was just paranoid. With a swish of her tail, Calypso goes back inside her classroom.

“And then, the little animals all cheered for the bat, who saved them from the bee. The end.” Calypso concludes, the bright smiles of her pupils a picturesque sight to her.

A pale yellow paw is raised.

“Yes, Rusty?’

“Why didn’t they just grab a broom and whack the bat? Then they wouldn’t be scared.” The kelpie, Rusty, questioned. Calypso chuckled.

“Well, then they wouldn’t have learned that the bat was a friendly fellow.” Rusty nods, satisfied with this answer. When a story ends, it’s time for the pups to play indoors, according to the schedule. The kids walk off to their little areas of interest.

Bluey, Chloe, and Indy were in a little house with dolls, pretending to be single mothers. Pretzel was a chef with Winton as his assistant. However, Pretzel seemed to be getting annoyed with the bulldog’s shenanigans.

“Hey, what does this button do?” Winton innocently inquires, turning up the stove to its maximum temperature. Pretzel screamed, making a whooshing sound with his arms up.

“Winton! What have you done?! You burned the sausages!” Pretzel exclaims, pointing towards the imaginary food. Winton goes quiet with Pretzel’s glare, before pulling out an invisible bag of sausages.

“That’s okay. We can make more! And we can feed the burnt ones to the magpies.” Winton chirped. Pretzel shrugs, going along with the game.

Meanwhile, Chloe Spotski, a Dalmatian, pretended that her puppy doll barfed on her leg.

“Blegh! Oh, you cheeky baby! Mummy will clean you up.” Chloe playfully scolded the doll. “Hey, we don’t have any napkins.” The two other girls, Indy Hound and Bluey Heeler looked around the little house, but to no avail.

Bluey piped up “I’ll look around!” She said before leaving her doll and venturing outside. Bluey hummed to herself as she looked around. The Terriers were hopping around, pretending to be wallabies and causing chaos, as usual. They seemed to be causing mischief with Pretzel Spitz and Winton Bulldog’s cooking. Pretzel looked pissed, but Winton seemed to be enjoying the triplets’ shenanigans. But still, no napkins.

Rusty and Jack were at the drawing table, and you can’t use paper as a napkin, so that was a no-go. Bluey spots Coco Poodle having a tea party with Gruber Shepherd and Mackenzie Border-Collie in the far corner, and they have napkins! Bluey yips and scampers up to the trio.

“More tea, Herbert?” Coco said in a posh British accent. Gruber, going by ‘Herbert’ for the game, nodded, sticking his pinky out as he held the teacup for the drink to be poured in. Mackenzie rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to play this silly game with Coco, but he was kind of forced to by Coco’s insistence. He hated to be forced, but his Grandad Wal hated it even more whenever he said ‘no’ to something he didn’t want to do, so Mackenzie went with that logic, thinking that Coco would be furious if he didn’t want to pretend to be her husband in this naff game.

“Coco, do you have a napkin I can borrow? Chloe’s baby barfed all over her!” Bluey asked, snapping Mackenzie out of his thoughts.

“Oh, my! Certainly, I do. Here you go, darling.” Coco said with her silly accent. Bluey giggled at Coco, thinking that the poodle would probably be good friends with the heeler’s neighbor, Judo Chow.

Bluey looks to the border collie, noticing his belligerence.

“Oh, Mackenzie? Do you want to play with us? We need a babysitter for our mum’s night out.” Bluey asked. Mackenzie nodded, wagging his black-tipped tail. Finally, he was out of this game!

“Okay, so their bedtime is at seven. Polly likes to be held, but she’s a bit cheeky, so don’t be afraid to whack her with the balloon.” Bluey relayed, handing a green balloon to Mackenzie, who raised an eyebrow at the strange parenting. “Charlie barfs a lot, so you can just leave him in the bathroom for the night. And Sandra likes her baby carrots cut into four pieces. There will be problems if the carrots are not cut that way, so I’m giving you this cushion for self-defense.” Bluey handed Mackenzie a cushion with a koala on it.

“Um… okay, Bluey? Have fun!” Mackenzie waved goodbye, and then he was all alone with the three dolls.

Mackenzie looked at the cushion. The koala on it looked like the one he saw at the zoo in Beerwah. Mackenzie remembers going with his mum, dad, and grandparents. It was a nice trip, for the most part. But when Mackenzie had to go to the toilet, his Grandad Wal insisted that he take him. Mackenzie wanted to say ‘no’, but he couldn’t; that word was not allowed in Wal’s presence.

He distinctly remembers the toilet at the zoo…

Grandad Wal opened the door that said ‘Boomer’ and he ushered Mackenzie in. Luckily for Wal, nobody was there in the toilet; it was just the two border collies. Wal let Mackenzie finish his business, then he pulled him aside.

He pressed Mackenzie up against the bathroom wall, almost restricting the young pup’s breathing with his large black paw. Said paw traveled lower and lower, and lower.

Wal grabbed Mackenzie’s penis, and his obscene activities began. Mackenzie could only stand there and take it. He wanted to push his granddad away, bite his arm, or kick him in the nuts, maybe. But he couldn’t. There would be consequences, and the whole trip would be ruined because Mackenzie just couldn’t suck it up at a little touching.

Wal squeezed the shaft of Mackenzie’s penis, making the little dog yelp. It was like his private was being crushed by a furry hydraulic press; he was sure it was going to explode. Thankfully, Wal relaxed his iron grip, and he kissed Mackenzie’s dark, wet nose.

“You did good, kiddo. Thank you.”

Mackenzie wordlessly nodded at his grandad’s praise. He just wanted to get out of here. He wanted his mum and dad.

“Remember, don’t tell anyone. If you do, you will be in big trouble, and everyone will hate you. Got it?” Wal reminded Mackenzie. He always said this exact sentence right after he was done hurting his grandson. Hell, he said it so many times that Mackenzie memorized it by now.

Finally, Wal led Mackenzie out of the bathroom, and he was back with his loving parents. His dad kneeled down, and let Mackenzie ride on his strong shoulders. Mackenzie could see the whole world from up here! He looked towards the koala enclosure, and he felt a weird feeling. Resentment.

Koalas didn’t have to worry about weird granddads. They just slept all day! Mackenzie frowns. He wished he was just sleeping at that moment. It usually hurt way less when Wal would hurt him while he was asleep. But it still sucked, just maybe a bit less than when Mackenzie was awake, conscious, and aware of what was happening.

Grandad Wal walked right up to his son and patted Mackenzie on his head.

He just wanted to cry.

Mackenzie threw the cushion across the room, hitting Bluey right in the muzzle. He never wanted to see a koala ever again!

“Mackenzie! You’re supposed to be taking care of the babies, not throwing things!” Bluey yelled. Mackenzie apologized sheepishly, giving a weak smile. Bluey rolled her eyes, and she continued with her mum’s night out with Chloe and Indy.

Mackenzie sat down, and he held all three dolls in his arms. He already forgot their names, but oh well… Mackenzie had the sudden urge to hug them, so he pressed the dolls against his fluffy white chest, and gave them a big squeeze.

“I won’t be weird or hurt you, babies. I’ll be a good dad. And when you have kids, I'll be the best granddad in the world.” Mackenzie heartfully declared to the inanimate objects.

Mackenzie just wanted to cry.

Chapter Text

Down the streets of Paddington, Rocko Basset jogged. It was early in the morning, with the purplish night sky giving way to the bright blue one as the dog carried on with his morning routine. On his arm, his phone was clutched in the armband, playing the song On the Run by Pink Floyd, from one of the greatest albums (or, at least, in Rocko’s opinion) of all time: Bark Side of the Moon.

As Rocko jogged, he spotted Doreen waiting patiently at the bus stop. The old bitch didn’t have much to do since her retirement, along with the passing of her husband, so she entertained herself by going wherever the bus took her. Rocko waved a friendly g’day to her, and he carried on with his way. Rocko passed by the homes of his good mates: the Heeler and Retriever households.

Pat Retriever and Bandit Heeler used to play footy all the time with Rocko back in their prime years. But Bandit and Pat became busy building their families; they had amazing wives and two beautiful, if cheeky, children. Truth be told, Rocko always wanted to be a dad, but he never found the dog for him. Maybe someday, he thought, I will meet the one.

Rocko’s thoughts were interrupted when he tripped and face-planted onto the sidewalk.

“Ah! Fucking cunt!” Rocko yelped, wiping his now bloody nose.

The basset hound turned around to see what could have tripped him. Was it a hole? A skateboard some stupid hooligan left out? It was none of those, but Rocko wished it was.

He had tripped on a small leg sticking out of the bush.

Rocko cautiously got closer, sniffing the air as he did. He pulled back the bushes, and he wished he never did.

A small puppy was hidden away, dumped like a rotten piece of junk. She had bite marks on her throat and chest, and her left paw was just nearly severed, which made it look like it was hanging off, being just barely held on. But the most severe damage was to her genitals. Her vagina looked stretched to all hell, bloodied and torn agonizingly. The puppy’s crotch also had large bite marks on it, like a huge beast decided to taste her either before or after he sexually assaulted the poor lass.

His white paws shaking with shock, Rocko dialed Triple Zero.

“I-I think I just found a murder victim,” Rocko told the operator as he looked closer at the bite marks on the corpse of the pink poodle. They didn’t look like they came from any old bloke.

They looked like they came from a beast.

Bluey carefully tiptoes down the stairs of her fancy Brisbane home, careful not to be heard. It’s been a couple of days now, and Bluey has not seen Coco at all. She tried asking Mum, but each time she did, she just changed the conversation. This was weird! What happened to Coco? Why wasn’t anyone telling her anything?

The little blue heeler pup stops halfway down the stairs, observing her mum and Coco’s mum in their lavish living room. She wanted Bingo to investigate this mystery with her, but she was too tired. Oh well…

Both mums are silent until Bella Poodle breaks the silence.

“I just can’t believe this happened, Chilli.”

Chilli shakes her head. “None of us can believe it, Bella. Poor Coco… she was a good kid.”

With that, Bella begins to sob.

“Hey, hey, oh, Bella. It’ll be alright. I know how you feel.” Chilli tried to reassure the purple poodle, squeezing her paw soothingly.

With that, Bella whips her head around, baring her teeth.

“No, you don’t! You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child!” Chilli tried to interject the false statement; she had lost a child before, just not one as old as Coco, but Bella interrupted. “Do you know what it felt like to get that phone call?! Do you know what it was like to see the mutilated corpse of your baby?! Do you know what it feels like to have your family fall apart because some sick fuck couldn’t keep his filthy paws off of my daughter?! No!” And with that, Bella broke down, sobbing until she could barely breathe.

Bluey whimpered quietly at the scene. Was Coco… dead? What did Coco’s mum mean by ‘mutilated’ and ‘sick fuck’? Bluey tried to think, but her mind was too young to comprehend what Coco might have gone through.

“...Bella?” Chilli says after the poodle’s sobs subsided slightly. “Do you remember what you said to me when Bluey and Coco were babies?”

Bella sniffles.

“You’re doing great. This was not your fault. There is no one to blame except the man who killed your Coco. Your youngest may be gone, but I’m sure she would have liked you to keep going. Your husband and your other kids need you, Bella. They need their mother.”

Bella shakes her head with a solemn expression. “If I just went outside to check the mail myself, then this would have never happened. I should never have left Coco alone outside. You’re lying, Chilli. I failed as a parent. I failed as a mother. I failed Coco.”

With that, Bella wordlessly exits the Heeler household, leaving behind a defeated Chilli.

The next morning, Bluey opened the FaceyTalk app on her tablet. With permission from her parents, she was able to have it in her and Bingo’s room. It was the weekend, after all. Bingo was too busy watching Mixed Up Murphy downstairs, which Bluey appreciated because this was something Bluey wanted to do alone.

With her little blue digit, she tapped on Chloe’s icon. The screen showed Chloe at a table, munching on some toast.

“Hey, Bluey!” The cheerful Dalmatian puppy greeted. The smile on her white muzzle dropped when she saw the confused and serious expression on her friend’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you hear what happened to Coco?” Chloe raised an eyebrow.

“No. Is she okay?” Bluey shook her head.

“I don’t think so. I overheard my mum and her mum talking. Coco’s mum was talking about… sick fucks? Failing Coco? Mail? I don’t know what that means, Chloe! Mum won’t tell me, and Dad won’t either!” Bluey explained, pouting slightly at the last sentence.

Chloe, being the sympathetic friend that she was, nodded. “I’m sorry, Bluey.”

Chloe’s dad, Frank, was quietly listening in on his daughter’s conversation with her friend while he cleaned the fish tank. His floppy ears perked once he heard Bluey’s speculation.

“What if Coco is dead, Chloe?”

The Dalmatian gasped. “What?! No! Don’t say that, Bluey!”

Okay, that’s enough. Frank strode over to the table where Chloe was seated.

“Chloe, Bluey, it’s time to shut your facey thing off, okay?” Bluey groaned but obeyed.

“Dad! What was that for?” Chloe expressed, watching as her dad rubbed his right ear with both of his paws, something he did often.

“I… I don’t want you talking about Coco. I mean- not like that. She is…was a good friend, right?” Chloe’s puppy dog eyes widened.

“Dad… what do you mean ‘was’?”

Frank sighed. Crap… “Well, Chloe, there’s no easy way to say this. Coco is dead. She was murdered and dumped somewhere in Bluey’s neighborhood, so I’ve heard.” Frank told his daughter in a no-nonsense tone, also not realizing that he was talking to a child.

Chloe stood still as if she was as dead as Coco. Murdered? What? That couldn't happen! “I… but…” Chloe ran up to her bedroom, too devastated to speak.
Frank rubbed his ear even harder as he watched his oldest child go. He realized too late that he might have fucked up.

A couple weeks after the tragic slaying of young Coco Poodle, a funeral was held. Her friends from school were there, and so were her parents and eight other siblings. Many dogs came for the funeral of the pink puppy, who was so cruelly murdered.

“I just want to thank you all for coming today,” Bella said as she wiped a tear with her handkerchief. “Coco was a wonderful little girl. She was my baby, and the baby of the whole family,” she looked over to her husband and her other children, silently begging for support. However, they were all too lost in their grief. Bella choked as she whimpered out, “I want to find whoever hurt Coco and…” she paused, shoving down her anger for the sake of the kids around. “I want to bring Coco justice. She never deserved any of this. We will find him, I know it.”

Little did the other attendants of the funeral know, the beast was right there among the crowd. He wore a mask of no emotion on his face, but deep down, he was exhilarated. There was something so satisfying about seeing his victim, his first ever kill, being acknowledged by the community. He stared at the pink casket of the child, which was decorated with emojis and cupcakes. It was closed because of the sheer brutality poor Coco endured.

His predatory eyes searched for his possible next victim, but they landed on the eight-year-old border collie, Mackenzie, his personal favorite. That kid was always a good fuck. He was tight, but not unbearable. He’s been stretched out quite a bit, which his cock adored!

But no, the beast wanted something new. His brain was so fogged up from the lust of Coco and Mackenzie that he had to leave, doing so as discreetly as he could.

From the corner of his eye, Mackenzie saw the beast leave.

Someone was next, he knew that for a fact. But he couldn’t tell anyone.

He could never tell.

Chapter Text

Once again, Glasshouse Primary buzzed to life after a few weeks of absence. Gathered around the table, Calypso’s children fiddled around with beeswax. Some close friends of Coco’s made a model similar to her butterfly hairclip, one that she wore often. Other kids made some random assortments; dinosaurs, soldiers, pancakes, and sausages (and turds, in Winton’s case…).

 “I miss Coco. Don’t you, Mackenzie?” Bluey queried sadly. Mackenzie nodded silently. 

 “Yeah, I guess. She was kind of annoying, but she should not have died.” Mackenzie replied rather bluntly. 

 With a frown, Bluey says, “Mackenzie! That’s not nice!” The border collie nods again, frowning.

 “Yeah, I guess so…”

 Deciding to change the subject, Bluey continues with her little butterfly, but she can’t help noticing how Mackenzie scratches his bum and crotch every so often. She instead looks to Mackenzie’s model.

 “Are you making a sheep?” Mackenzie smiles, and his tail begins to swish. 

  “Yeah! It’s the one at my grandad’s house. His name is Will. He’s a funny bloke!” Mackenzie chuckles, and continues. “My dad and my grandad taught me how to jump over him. And now, I can jump over five sheep if I run really fast!”

 “Wow!” Bluey’s eyes widened.

 “How many cows can you jump over, Bluey?” Mackenzie asks, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

 “Huh? What are you talking about?” Bluey’s confusion proves to humor Mackenzie, as he giggles.

 “You’re a cattle dog, aren’t you? You’re supposed to jump over cows and nip their feet!” Bluey’s lips move to make an ‘o’ formation. 

 “I can’t jump over any cows! That’s silly!” Bluey laughs along with her monochrome mate as they finish their beeswax figures.

A tree is planted in the memory of Coco Poodle later in the afternoon by Calypso with the help of her students. 

 “Why are we planting a tree?” Honey the beagle asks.

  “Because Coco passed on before her natural time. If we plant this tree, her spirit can be here with us.” Calypso explains to the children. “If you ever miss Coco or want to speak with her, just come down to the tree. She’ll be there.”

 The pups took their teacher’s words to heart, as they often visited the little mound during the next few days. But after every school day, as the parents came to pick their children up from school, Bella kept showing up for no reason, as she had no child to take home. The grown poodle’s behavior was odd to Calypso at first, but she realized that it was a way for the mum to cope. 

 On the first day Bella showed up unannounced, the Aussie shepherd led the poodle down to Coco’s small but heartfelt memorial. 

 And every day, without missing a beat, Bella visited the mound, watching it grow into the daughter she lost. 

“So, how’s school, Bluey?” A big blue heeler with a mask like a bandit asked his young, similar looking daughter as he picked her up from school. Her little blue paws fiddled with her seatbelt as she frowned in thought.

 “It was nice. Today we got to make stuff with beeswax. I made a butterfly for Coco, because she loves butterflies. And Mackenzie made a sheep.” Bluey rambles on as Bandit, the father of the heeler child, remembers the time when he took his daughter’s border collie friend to the creek. There was a little confusion about sheep-jumping, to say the least. “And he asked me if I could jump over cows, and I was like- what?”

 “Hah! Cuz we’re cattle dogs, mate!” Bandit laughed as he drove over to his younger daughter’s kindy. 

 “Mackenzie was scratching his bum and his crotch a lot, Dad. Is that normal?” Bluey asks as her dad raises an eyebrow. 

  “I’d say so. Remember when Uncle Stripe had fleas?” Bandit pulls into the parking lot of his youngest’s kindy. The two blue heelers walk paw-in-paw to the front door, and the tiny red heeler, Bingo, rushes out and slams into the yellow belly of her father. He lets out an oomph, and promptly picks his daughter up. 

 The drive back to the Heeler home was mostly uneventful, except when Bandit was next to Richie Border-Collie’s car at a stoplight. The two dads just gave a cordial nod to each other, but Bluey gasped as she saw her friend, straining against her carseat as her tail wagged with as much intensity as possible. Mackenzie noticed her, but he didn’t look as happy. He just gave a simple white-pawed wave, and that was that.

 Bluey was too young to understand why Mackenzie wasn’t as excited to see her or her family. She wasn’t looking; in fact, nobody was. Nobody was looking for what was wrong with the border collie pup.

 He just hid it way too well.

 The child whimpered as a pair of gardening scissors was inserted into his anus by the camera man. Harder and harder they were thrust, and the screams got more intense, along with the Beast’s rising sense of pleasure. The camera wobbled in the paws of the sadistic filmmaker, who was probably using his good paw for the scissors, which were now caked with feces and blood.

 “God, please, open the scissors, mate. Tear that little mutt apart!” The Beast’s deep, pure Aussie voice bellowed out into the basement. The cameraman didn’t listen to the monster’s words, as you can’t really livestream on the dark web. Don’t you know how slow that would be?

 The footage showed the man’s black paw yanking the scissors out of the pup’s bloody anus as the youngster sobbed for his mum. And then, Border Boy: Scissor Ass ended. Of course, the beast couldn’t help but comment on the amazing, homemade, ammature film. 

WaxOn_WaxOff: Very nice film. I would say that this has to be one of my favorites in da series. I like the way that little collie screamed. The hottest part eas wen you shoved it real deep, and he went quite. Nice work as always mate! :))

 That Australian monster sighed in ecstasy as he ejaculated on a tissue, promptly throwing the soiled paper into the bin. His sharp ears perked, listening to make sure that nobody heard him. They didn’t. 

  The Beast felt inspiration oozing into him as his paws clenched and unclenched. He’d never filmed a rape before. God, that would be awesome! He personally knew the guy who created and distributed the Border Boy series, so it wouldn’t be far-fetched to maybe collaborate. He’d especially want to be in a video with the child ‘pornstar’, if you could call him that, himself. The kid was a friend of his kids, so he knew him decently well. He was acquaintances with the parents of the boy, and he got along swimmingly well with the grandad. 

With a disgusting, perverted smile on his whiskered muzzle, the beast closed out of the Tor browser. Oh, what he would do… 

Nighttime is usually a time for love, peace, and rest. But for Mackenzie, it was none of those. He lay in bed, his eyes fixated on the luminescent stickers adorning the ceiling, their faint, greenish glow forming childish and calming shapes against the darkness of the room. The mind of the young border collie raced like a cheetah on crack.

 Why would he kill Coco? Who could possibly be next? Doubt and uncertainty wrapped around his fuzzy body like a vice. 

  Mackenzie let out a small whimper, the sound barely audible in the silence of the Border-Collie household. He shifted restlessly beneath the sheets in an attempt to find comfort, but his sore bottom proved for this simple task to be impossible. 

 He wished his Grandad Wal never hurt him. He wished the Beast never hurt him. He wished Coco never died.

  “Mum…” The little black-and-white puppy sniffles out. He wished his mum and dad knew, but they could never. They would hate him, and the truth would ruin the happy family. 

 Deep down, Mackenzie wished that it would all end.

  Why couldn’t the Beast just kill him already?

 His pointed ear on his left side perked up as he heard his bedroom door creak open. Shutting his eyes, he pretended to sleep, knowing that it would do little to dissuade the monster in the form of a grandad. 

 The larger man crawls into the child-sized bed, and he does as Mackenzie expected, and experienced for God knows how many times. The bed shakes and creaks with the old man’s thrusts and quiet grunts. Mackenzie had no more fucks to give; at this point, this was life. It was cold, hateful, and unloving. It was his destiny at this point to be used as a sex toy for other dogs. 

 But then his bedroom door opens again, and Mackenzie’s heart leaps into his throat. Did his mum or dad finally catch his grandad in the act? Oh no, this can’t be good! 

 But no. Mackenzie recognized those footsteps, and he recognized that voice.

 “You ready?” The voice, almost sounding disembodied, asked nobody in particular. 

 And then Wal moved, letting the other man get on the small bed.

Mackenzie finally opened his eyes, and he looked directly into the man’s own. The hot, humid breath of the other monster wafted down to Mackenzie’s face, making his nose wrinkle. 

 His long, wet tongue forced itself into the white muzzle of the pup, sloppily making out with him as if he were a lover. His large paws grip the child’s arms as he lined his penis up to the border collie’s small, violated and mutilated anus. With no preparation, he shoved the thing in, and Mackenzie bit his lip and whined. He was used to this pain, but it was still awful.

  Once again, his body began to shut down, turning into an empty husk, like the sex doll he was treated like. His vision blurred as he stared at the ceiling, the glowing star stickers laughing with voyeuristic exuberance like the camera he knew too well. The sounds of the men’s moans and grunts soon turned into a low buzz, manifestly his temporal lobe was melting. He felt nothing, and he tasted nothing, yet he could still smell.

 Blood. Not his own, but someone else’s. The blood of a young child. 

  As the Beast raped him, Mackenzie was unable to do anything but weep in terror and guilt.

 Another life was claimed, and he could only imagine who. 

Chapter Text

“This episode of Bluey is called: Farm !” Bluey mumbled under her breath, something she’s been doing for a couple of years now. Bandit nor Chilli never understood it, just brushing it off as a weird kid thing. 

The two cattle dog girls and border collie boy giggled as Bandit Heeler bellowed like a cow. Mackenzie was over for the day, much to the delight of the man’s daughters. Of course, they just had to rope their dad into another humiliating game. 

“Moaaaar! Moooooooo!” The kids giggled and squealed at the big blue heeler’s silly imitations of a bovine. But before the game really starts, everyone needs a role.

“Okay, I’ll be the farmer, and Bingo will be the chicken,” Bluey proclaims, and Bingo begins to cluck as she gets into character. “Mackenzie, you’ll be the sheep.”

The aforementioned ‘sheep’ frowns at the ‘farmer’. 

“But I don’t want to be a sheep! I want to be a farmer!”

“But I’m the farmer! You look like a sheep, so you need to be the sheep!”

The two pups bickered back and forth a little until it was decided that they could both be farmers together.

“Hooray! Alright, let’s start!” Mackenzie bounces impatiently, as is his character. 

Bluey smacks Bandit’s bum playfully. “C’mon, moo cow! Get in the barn!” Said cow-dog obeys, crawling on all fours to the little tent in the playroom. He settles in, eyelids half open, mindlessly. The little red chicken-dog soon follows, and she hops onto the cow’s back.

“Buck buck buck! Bu-caaaaw!” Bingo the chicken squawks, asserting her dominance as the top chook of the entire farm. Bluey turns to her fluffy friend.

“Mackenzie, what’s the first thing you do on farms?” The little blue heeler asks. Mackenzie smiles eagerly, ready to show off his knowledge of livestock husbandry. 

“Okay, first we check for some chicken eggs. Can you lift that chicken up from the cow?” The border collie requests, and Bluey obliges. She lifts her little sister from her dad, and she topples over from the weight of the toddler. Thankfully, none of them are hurt; they seem to find it quite amusing instead. 

“I don’t see any eggs, Mr. Farmer!” Mrs. Farmer calls out.

“That’s okay. Maybe we’ll get some later this afternoon or tommo- hey! Runaway chicken!” Mackenzie barks out as he sees Bingo waddling away while flapping her arms like a chicken trying to fly. He and Bluey quickly chase after the cheeky chook, and Bluey pounces on her a little more roughly than intended.

“Ow! Oh… buck buck buck…” Bingo clucks sadly.

“Oh, Bingo, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Bluey asks, both she and Mackenzie giving the youngest pup a concerned gaze. 

“Umm.. yeah, I’m okay. Oops! I mean- buck buckaaw!” Said red heeler clucks out, and the game resumes.

Meanwhile, Mr. Farmer goes back to the big blue bull, who’s grazing on the kiwi rug. 

“Alright, Mr. MooMoo, it’s time for milkies.” The black and white puppy informs the adult. The sisters are busy playing with each other, so it’s just Mackenzie and the… man. He frowns, not really sure if he trusts Bandit not to hurt him. Bluey’s dad was always nice before, right? But he remembers all the countless other men, and some of them were only nice to the boy when he did “stuff”. Maybe Bluey’s dad will like him more if he does something?

The little farmer boy scampers off to find a small toy bowl for the milk, of course. He returns to the kiwi rug, and he sets the milk under Bluey’s dad.

“Okay! Are you ready, Mr. MooMoo?” The big blue bovine bellows and snorts as a way of saying yes. Just as his head bends down to pretend to graze on the carpet grass, he feels a weird sensation in his crotch. Now, just what is Mackenzie doing?

Looking back, Bandit’s heart drops.

He sees Mackenzie with his little white paw trying to stimulate his penis. To Bandit’s shame, the tip of his canine appendage begins to come out of its sheath because of the sensation. The young border collie seems oddly focused on this grown-up task. Where the hell did he learn this? Is this just a thing curious boys do? Well, it’s time to stop! 

“Oh, Mackenzie, mate, we don’t touch people there without permission.” Bandit enlightens, breaking character and sitting up to remove Mackenzie’s access to his privates. 

“We don’t?” Mackenzie cocks his head with a curious, innocent look, and Bandit feels paranoia beginning to sink its hideous claws into his brain.

“Yeah. We don’t.” Bandit says. 

An awkward silence follows between the two males. For Mackenzie, it was confusing. Why didn’t Bluey’s dad like it? Did you need permission to touch someone there? If yes, then how come nobody asked him if he liked his willy touched before they would do it?

Bandit narrowed his eyes, observing the border collie. The way he touched and stimulated his penis was with a practiced touch, like he had done this many times before. 

“Mackenzie, can I ask you something?” Bandit questioned as gently as possible. The boy nodded, and the man asked, “Has anyone ever touched you in a way that you didn’t like?” 

Mackenzie gulps, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights. That was another thing Grandad Wal drilled into his head, besides the forbearance of the word ‘no’; under no circumstances could he tell ANYONE: not a parent, teacher, friend, not even the magpie in the tree by his house, that he was being touched. If he did, then his entire family would leave him, and his friends would all hate him, and-

“Mackenzie, mate, did you hear what I said?” The sheepdog is suddenly transported from his thoughts by the anxious voice of Bluey’s dad. 

“Dad! Can we go to the park?” Bluey interrupts loudly as she scampers up to get closer. Her father sighs.

“I don’t know, kid. We've got plenty of fun stuff here to do.” Right after he finishes that sentence, Bandit feels a gentle tug on his arm.

“I’d like to go to the park, Bluey’s dad. Can we please do that?” The male pup asks politely. Mackenzie looks a little uncomfortable now from the early questioning, and Bandit feels a little guilty from it. 

“Umm, sure. Since you all wanna go, then I guess I can take ya.” 

The large playroom is then filled with the sound of “hooray!”.

As usual, Bluey is the first one out of the door, followed by her little sister Bingo, her dad, and finally, her friend. Mackenzie seems a little slower now, for some reason. Maybe he’s tired? But he never gets tired!

“Dad, can we get the wagon? Mackenzie looks a little, um, bleh.” Bluey says, sticking her tongue out for emphasis. 

“I guess. But is it awright if only Mackenzie gets to ride in the wagon? I don’t think it could fit all three of you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” The older Heeler smiles, complimenting Bluey on how good a friend she is. 

And with that, Bandit digs up the wagon from the carport, wheeling it over to the border collie. 

“Ya wanna go for a ride, Mackenzie?” Bandit asks the glum-looking kid. Thankfully, he seems to perk up a little at the sight of the wagon, his tail wagging. In a good-natured attempt at helping, Bandit picks up Mackenzie unexpectedly and sets him down onto the cold, hard seat. However, Mackenzie seems a little shaken up, his eyes staring straight ahead blankly, as if expecting something else to happen.

“Mackenzie, are you good?” The cattle dog dad asks. Mackenzie nods, giving a thumbs-up. 

“Am I making you pull the wagon, Bluey’s dad?” The young New Zealander asks. The older Australian shakes his head, understanding that Mackenzie might be feeling like a burden for some odd reason. 

“Nah, you’re good. Besides, it’s a good way to work on these big muscles!” Bandit flexes and kisses his biceps like he’s some sort of bodybuilder from a cheesy deodorant commercial. This prompts a giggle out of the boy, and with that, Bandit begins to pull the wagon.

Ten minutes later, the four dogs arrive at the park. In typical kid fashion, they rush towards the attraction they want to play on: Bluey with the slide, Bingo on the flying fox, and Mackenzie with the monkey bars. And in typical tired dad fashion, Bandit plops down onto the bench. For the most part, the kids all seem okay, so Bandit pulls out his phone, opens his messaging app, and taps on the profile labeled Chilli Dog.

Me: Something is up with Mackenzie, bade

Me: *Babe

A few seconds later, Chilli, presumably on a break from work with how fast she responds to the notification, begins to type.

Chilli Dog: What’s up with him?

Me: He grabbed my penis and tried to jerk me off when we were playing the farm game. And when I told him that we shouldnt touch people there, he looked really confused.

Me: then I asked him if hes been touched in a way that made him feel uncomfortable, and he just went quiet. 

Me: When I picked him up to put him in the wagon, he froze and had this blank look in his eyes.

Me: Im really freaked out Chilli!!!

Chilli Dog: That is weird. Are you sure he wasn’t being playful when he touched your penis?

Me: Yes. It started out as part of the game because I was a cow that needed to be milked. Then it just happened

Chilli Dog: Oh….

Chilli Dog: Poor kid. You’re right, something is really wrong. 

Chilli Dog: Do you think he’s being molested by one of his parents? They don’t seem like the type, but you never know.

On the swings, Bingo attempts to propel herself with her stubby little legs. It’s not working, so she carefully hops down so she can go get help from Dad.

Sniff, sniff.

A disgusting scent blows in Bingo’s direction, and she covers her nose. “Yuck! Someone fluffied!” But curiosity gets the better of Bingo, and without better judgment, she toddles over in the direction of the scent. She finds herself near the entrance to the creek. The appalling scent grows stronger as the little red heeler creeps closer to one particular bush. 

With small, pale paws, the bush is parted to reveal the most horrific sight Bingo will ever see.

Chapter Text

“Yeah, I’d recommend the almond milk kind, cos’ the lime one dries your fur out.” The Beast conversed in a tone of casual camaraderie as he leaned against the sun-warmed wall at the entrance of Glasshouse Kindy. The parent who was being conversed with, Mercedes Cavalier, nodded. Being a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, she was among the most elegant of all canines, and she always sought out the best fur care tips to maintain her status as the prettiest of all the toy breeds. 

“Is it good for toddlers?” Mercedes inquired, her large, expressive eyes glimmering with concern and curiosity. The gentle barks and delighted shrieks of children filled the air as they began to pour out from the building. The Beast, relaxed but attentive, nodded reassuringly. 

“Yeah, it won’t hurt ‘em. Your pup will be fine,” he replied, his gaze shifting toward the small crowd of prey spilling out onto the parking lot. Among them, he spotted Bentley Cavalier, Mercedes’ daughter. She waved enthusiastically, her tail wagging furiously as she shouted a boisterous goodbye to the kid that the Beast was picking up. 

But the Beast’s gaze never left Bentley, who was beginning to feel a little creeped out. But thankfully, he left, and she was back with her mum and being taken home to rest.

The footage, taken on a phone, judging by its dimensions, showed a small Cavalier King Charles Spaniel pup, probably around four or five years old, lying on a filthy mattress in some dark room. The phone’s flashlight is on, and it’s blinding the poor pup, who tries to shield her eyes with her handcuffed paws.

“Can I go home now?” The little toy spaniel whimpers. “I want to see my mum.”

Behind the phone, the Beast shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything else as he unsheathes his penis. Luckily for him, he doesn’t have any distinctive markings on or around his male parts; he can’t be identified from that alone.

The toddler whimpers as the man shoves a gloved finger inside of her vagina. She kicks and begs, but the larger canine doesn’t seem to be listening. When he inserts a second finger, her female genitalia begins to tear. Of course, she lets out an ear-piercing howl, so the Beast gives her a quick smack to shut her up. 

The scene cuts, and the cameraman’s penis tip is inside the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel’s torn, bloody vagina. He begins to pump in and out, in and out, in and out… Because of the agony she’s in, the pup begins to convulse, her body not developed enough to take this abuse. 

“Mummy! Mummy!” She wails. To any normal dog, these cries for help would invoke an instinctual urge to help the child, but the Beast seems to lack these mental attributes. 

A few minutes of depraved vaginal rape later, the scene cuts again. This time, the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel is dead; her body mutilated and decapitated. The poor girl couldn’t even get respect in death, as the dog who raped her began to have sex with a hole that was not meant for penile penetration. The cameraman gives a thumbs up, almost like he was taunting the investigators who were honeypotting the site where the abomination of a porno was uploaded to. 

“Yeah, that should settle it.” A previously unheard voice said in the background before Cavi Head abruptly ended.

Fido Labrador, an investigator for the Australian Centre for Missing and Exploited Children, was speechless. Of course, with his job came many horrible sights, but this, by far, was the worst in his ten years on the force. Even worse than the GIF of the bully mix puppy getting defecated on that was surfing around various neckbeard-infested forums. Even worse than the series of photos older than Fido himself, which were going to circulate long after the victim would die, thanks to the permanent nature of the Internet. Hell, it was even worse than the video of the Askal puppy getting tortured by two other young bitches of the same breed. 

Fido had never seen an actual snuff film before. Their existence was normally regarded as a rumour that some edgy boofheads were spreading around. But this looked legit. He had to hold back his vomit as he processed that Godforsaken video. 

But little did Fido know, Cavi Head would be some of the more tamer shit he would see. 

It would only get so, so much worse at Pup’s Galore! .

“Dad! Daddy, come quick! Waaaah!” Bingo wailed, her voice piercing through the tranquil afternoon air like a siren. Her dad, Bandit, immediately stiffened at the sound of her distress, his heart racing as he signaled Bluey and Mackenzie to stay close. The two children—a blur of energy—rushed over, concern etched on their faces.

As they approached, they could see Bingo, the little red heeler girl, crouched down beside a thick bush. “Bentley is missing her head! Bentley is missing her head!” she sobbed uncontrollably, burying and sinking deeper into the safety of her dad’s belly fur. Bandit knelt beside her, giving her a gentle but firm hug while scanning the area for any sign of what had frightened her so terribly. 

The aforementioned Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Bentley, was Bingo’s kindy mate, and by the looks of it, something was dreadfully awry. Bandit quickly assessed the scene, feeling a wave of unease wash over him. He instinctively shooed Bluey and Mackenzie away, not wanting them to witness the horror that Bingo had stumbled upon. “Good gravy…” He whipped out his phone, blue fingers trembling slightly as he dialed the jacks.

Moments later, the sounds of sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder as a police car pulled into the playground. The two uniformed officers, a sturdy Rottweiler and a sleek Belgian Malinois, stepped out of their vehicle with a sense of urgency.

“Alright, everyone, please stay calm and give us some space,” the Rottweiler officer instructed as he donned a serious expression. He stood in front of Bandit, who was still holding Bingo tightly against him. “Can you tell me what happened?”

With a shaky breath, Bandit recounted the events. “Yeah, my daughter saw Bentley’s body in the bush, and she called me over. That’s all that happened until I called you lot.” His voice was steady, but the worry in his eyes betrayed how much he was feeling.

“So her name is Bentley? How old is she?” the Belgian Malinois officer asked, jotting down notes on a small pad, his ears perked up in concentration. 

“Yep. Bentley Cavalier, and she’s five years old... I think,” Bandit replied, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the details. He could feel Bingo’s small body shivering against him. Bandit glanced down at her, wishing he could shield her from the harsh realities of life. But alas, the world was not always kind, and today it had dealt a cruel hand.

Bluey couldn’t understand a lick of what the grown-ups were saying, so she turned to her good mate, Mackenzie. With her tail tucked in between her legs, she confided in the young boy. “I don’t want Bentley to have died, Mackenzie. First Coco, and now her?! I don’t like this!” The young girl sobbed as her friend patted her blue-spotted back with his white paw. 

“I don’t think it will get better, Bluey. It never gets better.” The border collie remarked bluntly. Somehow, he knew the truth behind the death of Bentley Cavalier, but he couldn’t tell them the truth.

If he did, then he would end up like Bentley, which Mackenzie kind of wishes he were right now.

At least she didn’t have to feel pain anymore, right?

Chapter Text

The drive back was eerily silent as the Border-Collies picked their son up from the playground. Bandit had called them over, telling them that it was an emergency. Of course, a whirlwind of horrifying thoughts and scenarios raced through the parents’ heads. Luckily for them, Mackenzie wasn’t hurt, just a little shaken up. 

They never even noticed when he was hurt, anyway.. Mackenzie thought bitterly as his mum strapped him into his booster seat. 

“Do you wanna get an ice cream, mate?” Mackenzie’s mum, Lola, asked as she adjusted the rear-view mirror. 

Her son shrugs, but she takes that as a yes. 

At the ice cream shop, Mackenzie’s dad, Richie, orders a small vanilla in a cup, while Lola sits down with her little boy.

“Something scary must have happened at the playground. Is that right, Mackenzie?” He nods, gingerly sitting down on his sore bottom. 

“Yeah. Bentley died. She was Bingo’s friend.” The little border collie explains, “Bluey’s dad didn’t want me to see, but I still saw her.. Her head was cut off, and her pussy was like a cave!” He gestured with his paws. 

Lola gasps at her son’s vulgar language. “Mackenzie! Where did you hear that word?”

“What word?” The confused puppy asks.

“Pussy. Where did you hear the word ‘pussy’?” 

“Grandad Wal taught me that word. He said that it’s what girls call their private parts.” Lola’s tail droops at her son’s words. She has always had a bad feeling about her father-in-law; this must be why. 

“You know, Mackenzie. That’s not a very nice word.” The red border collie clarifies to her boy. Mackenzie apologizes, and he gets a friendly pat on the head. 

“Ice cream! Get yer ice cream!” Richie playfully barks out. “Does a hungry little fella want an ice cream?” The sire teases his pup, but he eventually ceases. 

As Mackenzie eagerly chows down on his ice cream, Lola turns to her husband. “Richie, I don’t think Wal is being good with Mackenzie.”

“Really? Why’s that?” 

“He taught Mackenzie what a.. Pussy was. And our boy used that word to describe Bentley’s privates.” He frowns at his wife’s words. Yeah, that is quite strange, but Wal was the same way with him, and he turned out alright!

“I think you worry too much, love. Look at him,’’ he points to their child with his large white paw. “He’s a good kid. Dad was like that with me when I was his age. Hell, he taught me a lot about that sex stuff.” Mr. Border-Collie leans back on the bench, taking in the view of suburban Brisbane. 

“This isn’t the eighties anymore, Richie! Mackenzie is too young for this! I don’t want your dad teaching him any more of this ‘sex stuff’!” Lola retorts, finishing her sentence with air quotes. “It’s disgusting!” Her husband sighs and nods. 

“Finished!” A young kiwi-accented voice cheers, snapping the parents out of their conversation. With the mostly empty cup in paw, the boy gets up and obediently throws his rubbish in the bin. And then, the family of border collies goes home, hoping that they were successful in clearing Mackenzie’s mind of what happened to Bingo’s poor friend. 

The ring of the doorbell echoes through the modest family home, and a geriatric border collie goes up to answer it. Surprise, surprise, it’s his son’s family. 

“Thanks again for watching the house, Dad.” Richie thanks his dad with a friendly shake of the paw.

“Ah, it’s no worries, Richie. You got a nice home. Why wouldn’t I want to be here?” The old dog chuckles. “I heard about Bentley. Poor girl. God, it’s just awful to think about.” 

Her eyebrow raised, Lola replies, “wait, Wal, how do you know about that?”

“Word of mouth.” The red sheepdog frowns, but decides not to press the matter. She’s not a drama queen, after all. With a kiss to her beloved boy, she sends him off to play. Strangely, he doesn’t seem all that affected by Bentley’s death. To be fair, he barely knew the little spaniel, but still, who wouldn’t be a little fucked up from seeing the decapitated corpse of a raped toddler?

But unbeknownst to his mum, Mackenzie was indeed affected by what had happened. He was always a sensitive kid; some events stuck to him like glue, even after a long time had passed. Like around six years ago, when he got mixed up in the slide at that mall, and he couldn’t find his mum. He still hates being alone, but honestly, he would much rather suffer through that than be with his Grandad Wal. 

Speak of the devil, the door to Mackenzie’s bedroom opens, and in comes the old fucker himself. 

“Hey, little matey! Mind if I come in?” The question isn’t meant to be responded to, as Wal just lets himself in. The old border collie sits down on his grandson’s bed, the child-sized mattress creaking under his weight. Instinctively, Mackenzie tries to get away, but he’s stopped by that black demonic paw.

“Say, why don’t we play a little game, sweetheart. Let’s play the penis game!” Grandad Wal begins to pant, his tongue dripping sick drool onto the boy’s bed. Mackenzie looks down, seeing that his grandad is already erect, his disgusting penis dripping precum. That liquid leaking from Grandad Wal’s private looks a little like vanilla ice cream. 

His pupils shrink, and he backs away. “No! I don’t want to!” Mackenzie’s little white paws fly up to his mouth as he realizes what he just said. 

“You know better than to use that word in my presence, Mackenzie!” The old man growls as he pins the little boy down onto the bed. He reaches back and takes out his camera. Then Wal films the next video, which he promised the members of Pups Galore! . The black border collie didn’t know what to call this batch yet, but he could brainstorm some ideas while he was fucking his grandson. 

Unfortunately for Mackenzie, Wal was very rough this time. It was something he was sadly all too used to, but it doesn’t make it any better. The little puppy stares deeply into that soul-sucking machine his grandad was using. Wal noticed this, so he haphazardly covered Mackenzie’s eyes with his huge paw. The viewers might find the boy’s staring a bit unsettling (as if watching a child getting raped wasn’t bad enough). 

Ten minutes later, Wal the sick bastard finishes inside of Mackenzie, and he ends his film with a zoom in on the pup’s teary, distressed face. 

“Awright, kiddo, let’s go get you a bath, and then I’m out of here.” In a deceptively nice voice, the old man lifts his abused grandson as semen drips onto the floor. He makes a mental note to clean that up.

Later that evening, a video is uploaded to Pups Galore! . Fido Labrador checks the latest abomination on the honeypot website, and he sees that it’s the latest entry in the Border Boy series. With a sigh, the dog clicks on Border Boy: Creampie Crying Collie . The name is pretty self-explanatory. What else was he expecting? 

But one thing stood out to Fido: the cameraman’s voice. He’s heard it in another video outside of the Border Boy series! Fido quickly pulls up Cavi Head in another tab. Yes! That’s it! That’s the same Kiwi voice at the end of the video. However, the dog’s heart sinks shortly after his epiphany. The user who had made the Border Boy series, Flat Root , is in direct contact with WaxOn_WaxOff : the man behind the website’s first snuff video, and arguably the most extreme producer. This could only mean one thing:

That little border collie was in grave danger. 

Chapter Text

Ring ring ring, ring ring ring! Phone call! Phone call!

Richie picks up his phone, seeing that it’s his good mate Bandiddums. With a smile on his grey muzzle, he charismatically answers. 

“Gudday, Bandit! Howzit goin’?” The fellow dad greets his mate, wondering what’s up this time. 

“G’day, Richie, I was just wondering if Mackenzie could pop over today. You know how Bluey is; she demands playdates every weekend. This time, she wants Mackenzie. So, is that awright?” This was only partly a lie, as Bluey hasn’t pestered her parents for a friend to come over… yet. In truth, Bandit was the one who wanted Mackenzie to visit. Deep in his gut, he knew that kid wasn’t safe at home. Someone was raping him, that’s for sure, but who exactly? Bandit didn’t have a lick. And of all of Bluey and Bingo’s friends, Mackenzie was his favorite. He was a funny little guy, and they had a shared interest in nature. He was also the son of his good mate, so that was a plus. 

“Oh, does Bluey wanna set up a date with her boyfriend? Make sure Mackie uses protection if they decide to get cheeky!” The big blue heeler threw up a little in his mouth at the border collie’s words.

“Mate, they’re eight years old! Cheese and crackers, you sound like those creepy fans.”

“What?”

“Never mind that, Richie, I just wanna know if Mackenzie can come over.” A silence follows the call as the Kiwi dad thinks it over, but he soon confirms it with a yes. 

“Thanks, Rich. See ya later.” The Aussie dad ends the call with an even worse feeling in his belly. Was Richie the one who was abusing Mackenzie? He was making some rather creepy comments, and when he dropped Mackenzie off at the Heeler house, Richie gave his son a light smack on the bum to get him inside. Bandit could tell that Mackenzie hated that, but the boy didn’t say anything to his dad. 

Bandit really hated the thought of someone he knew being a child abuser. Little did Bandit know, he knew a serial child abuser. 

Hell, he wasn’t just a child abuser. He was a serial killer.

“Mackenzie!” Little blue and cream feet patter across the home and to the front door at the sound of their shared friend arriving. The blue dog, more boisterous, affectionate, and ‘in-your-face’ than her sister, promptly rams her black and white friend into a hug. 

“Hey, Bluey, ease up on ‘im a little, kay?” Her big blue father gently suggested, and being the good daughter that she was, she obeyed. “Do you think we could play a quiet game today? Mackenzie wants to do that.” 

The border collie nods, confirming his request. “Yeah, I’m a bit tired.” Just another thing to confirm Bandit’s suspicions; Mackenzie never gets tired!

“But me and Bingo were going to play Cat Squad: Air Patrol! Mackenzie has to play! I planned it yesterday! I’m going to be Sergeant Whiskers, Bingo will be Flyer Ace, and-”

“Bluey, if Mackenzie doesn’t want to play the Cat Squad game, then he doesn’t have to.” Despite only being six years old, Bingo Heeler was pretty wise, which came in handy whenever her sister’s bossy side reared its head. 

“Okay, fine!” Bluey pouts, but she remembers hearing ‘sometimes plans may change, but that’s okay’ from a cartoon on her tablet, so the blue heeler quickly brightens up. Bandit lets out a sigh of relief. Thank the stars for Bingo!

“G’day, denizens of Brisbane and surrounding areas. This is Skittles Dachshund reporting from K9 News Network. A tragic story has shaken the Paddignton area today, as we bring you the heart-wrenching tale of a young life taken too soon.”

“In the normally peaceful Wittonga Park, the body of a five-year-old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Bentley Cavalier was found by the bushes. Bentley was only a toddler and was loved by the entire community. We have reports of her friends and family being heartbroken. Our thoughts and prayers go out to them.”

“And this just in, a shocking discovery! I’m here with Officer Malinois. Mister- um, I mean! Officer Malinois, what is your perspective on this tragedy?”

“Well, Mr. Dachshund, we believe that this was a sexually motivated murder. It’s quite similar to a murder from a couple 'o weeks ago in the Paddington neighbourhood. Coco Poodle, that was her name. She was only eight years old, the poor girl. Both she and Bentley were found sexually assaulted and with extensive mutilation, especially to the sexual organs and genitalia.”

“Oh my! Do you think these killings have any connection?”

“Yes, my team thinks they’re connected. Both victims were little girls who lived in the same vicinity, and they also went to the same school district. If they are indeed connected, then I think that the killer is escalating in violence. It’s one of the worst murders Brisbane- no, Queensland has ever seen!”

“I see. Shocking news there, mate. If you viewers have any tips, anything at all, call the number down below.”

“I’m Skittles Dachshund, and this has been K9 News.”

Bandit’s black ears perk up as his attention is drawn away from the television, hearing a yelp coming from the playroom. He rushes down the stairs with the speed of a greyhound and pads on over to the room with the kiwi rug. 

“Is everything all right in here, kids?” The big blue heeler asks, looking at the three puppies coloring on a small children’s table. 

“Mackenzie cut himself with scissors! He’s bleeding!” Bluey announces with her outside voice, accompanied by Bingo wincing and covering her ears. The border collie puts his bloody finger in his mouth in an attempt to lick his wound. Yuck…

“Oh, Mackenzie, we don’t put our fingers in our mouth.”

“We don’t?”

Bandit frowns, but he doesn’t want to scare the kid. “Come on, Mackenzie, let’s get ya to the dunny.” With his large blue paw extended and a friendly smile on his muzzle, the man leads the boy over to the aforementioned room. Once they arrive, the heeler dad asks, “mind if I pick you up, Kenz? Set you on the toilet?” He’s careful to ask permission; the last thing he wants to do is make the poor lad uncomfortable. Small giggles emit from the boy at the silly nickname, which makes the cattle dog’s tail wag. He’s been known for being great with kids; this is why. 

When Mackenzie grants Bandit permission, the blue dog lifts the black one up and onto the closed toilet lid before grabbing a bandage from the medicine cabinet. While he gently cleans the small cut on the border collie’s finger, he makes some small talk. He begins by asking Mackenzie what he was drawing with Bluey and Bingo (a dinosaur, specifically a Suzhousaurus), what his favorite show is (Lekker, something about a chipmunk and a hare), and what his favorite food is (fish and chips, of course!). 

“Mind if I ask you something else, Mackenzie?”

“Chur, Bluey’s dad!”

“I saw that your dad hit your bum when you first got here. You didn’t like that, did you?”

Mackenzie goes quiet for a bit or two before he finally answers. “No, I didn’t. It hurt.”

“That wasn’t very nice of your dad, was it?”

“No. I guess not.”

“Did you tell him that you didn’t feel comfortable being touched there?”

Mackenzie is silent for an even longer period of time. So long, in fact, that Bandit thinks he’s shut down, but he’s proven wrong. “No. I’m not allowed to say stuff like that.”

“Oh, really? Your dad doesn’t let you?”

With a shake of his head, Mackenzie admits, “I don’t like it when they touch me there…” 

“Who? Who touches you, Mackenzie?” Bandit interrogates, unintentionally frightening the little herding dog as he does, which causes the latter’s lip to tremble before he unleashes the waterworks. 

His large, pointed ear drooped. Bandit apologizes in the most gentle voice he has ever used. “Aw, I’m sorry mate. I didn’t mean to make ya cry. Did I scare you?” Nodding, Mackenzie affirms so. The poor boy must have been overwhelmed with the heavy topic and Bandit’s insistent questioning. With a guilty look on his friendly face, Bandit pulls the fluffy pup into his arms. “I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m so sorry.”

The little boy buries his face in the blue heeler’s chest, hiccuping softly while clenching and unclenching his fist. While he tenderly pets the border collie to soothe him, another thought enters Bandit’s head. The cut on Mackenzie’s finger looked worse than your typical papercut. It was larger and wider, something a simple sheet of paper wouldn’t do. He makes a mental note to ask his daughters about it.

“Shhh, shhhh. You’re okay, you’re okay. Nobody will hurt you here.” Bandit whispers.

Meanwhile, Mackenzie clings to his mate’s dad with fervor, something he never thought he would do with a man he truly trusts. Bluey’s dad was kind: he listened, he played, and best of all, he didn’t hurt! His own father was nice, but he never listened. Grandad Wal was…. He didn’t want to think about it. All of Wal’s friends were men, and they were never nice, either. Sometimes, they were meaner than even his grandad. But Bandit was different. Right now, he’s the only man that Mackenzie truly trusts. 

Once he’s sure that the pup has calmed down, Bandit sets him on the floor and gets down to his level. “Are ya ready to keep playing, or do you wanna go home?” He makes sure to give Mackenzie control of the situation, as he doesn’t think Mackenzie has much control in his life at all.

“Umm… Can I stay here, Bluey’s dad?” How can Bandit say no to him?

And with that, Mackenzie thanks the heeler and scampers away to his friends. Happy that his friend’s son is happy, Bandit goes to follow. But something small catches his eye.

He turns around, and what he sees breaks his heart even further.

A small, almost minuscule puddle of blood from where Mackenzie was sitting on the toilet seat.

Chapter Text

It’s a rather simple drawing, but it’s good for an eight-year-old. It shows a little blue dog with butterfly wings, an orange dog driving some sort of name-brand car, and a black and white dog on a hill, all alone. The artist proudly presents her drawing to her friends, and as expected and appreciated, she gets praised. 

“Wow! Nice drawing, Bluey!” Exclaims Mackenzie with a wag of his tail. 

“Yeah, it’s really good!” Chimes Bingo, who is always the second to voice her opinion. 

Bluey smiles and wags her tail like it’s a propeller. She has been honing her art skills for a while, and so has her sister. When the little blue heeler grew up into a big blue heeler, she wanted to be an artist.

But just like her friend Jack, she was a little scatterbrained, so on to the next subject!

“Let’s play Families when you both finish up! But we have to have silly names, okay? I’ll be Blue Cheese,” The unnaturally blue cattle dog yips with a giggle. “Bingo, what should you be called?”

“Slobberblubbabooboo!”

“Okay, that’s good! Mackenzie, what about you?”

“Umm… I don’t know. Can I just be a normal Mackenzie?” He doesn’t seem to have a very good imagination. Maybe he needs some encouragement, like Honey that one time. 

“Well, you’re a border collie, and you’re also a boy, so… what about ‘Border Boy’?”

Time seems to freeze once that awful name fell out of Bluey’s mouth. Bad things happened whenever he was called by that alias. 

“Oh, Border Boy! Oh, Border Boy! Fuck, Border Boy!” The chants of those filthy males rang through Mackenzie’s head. He hated it, oh man, he hated it.

Time unpauses, and the next thing he knows, he’s slicing his finger open with one of those kiddy scissors, one not unlike the bigger one that Grandad Wal likes to shove up his bum.

Bluey and Bingo both shriek, and Bluey yelps out, “Dad, Dad, come quick!”

“And you’re sure that’s what happened, Bluey?” Bandit asks as Bluey nods. 

“Yeah! When I called him ‘Border Boy’, he freaked out on me for no reason! Is Mackenzie okay?” Bandit doesn’t really know how to answer his daughter’s question, but he gives a nod anyway. 

“It must have been quite scary seeing Mackenzie like that. Are you girls okay?” He asks. The daughters of the blue dog affirm their status, and he parts away from them after giving a quick ruffle of the head to each of the pups. “Hey, where did he go?” Bandit stops in his tracks. The last time he saw Mackenzie, he was running over to the playroom while he cleaned up the blood from the toilet seat. But obviously, he wasn’t there.

“He’s outside.” Pipes Bingo, so Bandit makes his merry way outside.

In the backyard of the suburban Brisbane home, Bandit finds Mackenzie curled up on his belly underneath the trampoline, all alone, picking up grass from the shaded ground. All of his attention is on the green blades, as if they were the most interesting thing in the whole wide world. Slowly, Bandit creeps towards the boy before kneeling and greeting, “Hey, Kenz. Why are you out here alone?”

The border collie startles, but he quickly calms down. “I just wanted to be here.” 

“I see. Bluey and Bingo can be a lot to handle, eh?” Bandit is successful at making the boy smile, which makes his bruise-coloured tail wag. “Bluey called you something you didn’t like, right?” The boy nods, informing his friend’s dad that bad things happen when he hears that name.

“What kind of bad things?” 

…no answer.

“Okay… is it true that you cut yerself with scissors?”

A nod.

“Why did you do that?”

A shake of the head, before pausing. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it was a way to get Bluey to stop talking.”

“What made your bum bleed?”

No answer, again… that was a bad question, Bandit.

Dang it, enough with the questions! Mackenzie wants to shout, but he refrains. He’s a good boy, right?

“Alright, um… do you want to get back to playing with the girls again?”

“No, thank you, Bluey’s dad. But- um… can I play with just you?” It was just in time, because Chilli arrived home so she could occupy the heeler girls. There, problem solved.

Richie knocks at the door, and his mate opens it, greeting him. “Heya, Rich! Ya here for Mackenzie?”

“Sure am, Bandit. How was the little fella?”

“Oh, he was alright. He accidentally cut his finger open with some scissors, but we got that taken care of.” On cue, Mackenzie scampers up to his dad, hugging him. 

“Is that all?” Richie asks, patting his pup on the head.

“Nah, Bluey also called him a name he didn’t like, but that was about it. You have a great kid.” Bandit relays, eyeing Richie with a wary gaze. “I don’t think he liked it when you smacked his bum earlier.” The blue heeler says, making the border collie frown. 

“Oh. Is that true, Mackenzie?” Richie asks, kneeling to get on Mackenzie’s level. The young puppy fidgets with his white paws before nodding. Some men didn’t like it when he voiced his discomfort, but for other men, it was part of the reason why they enjoyed hurting him at all. To Mackenzie’s surprise, Richie sympathizes with him, saying, “I’m sorry, Mackie. I didn’t know it hurt you. 

“That’s okay, Dad.” Mackenzie forgives, and off went the two border collies, leaving behind a concerned blue heeler. 

“So, how was he, Big Fella?” Chilli asks once the kids are all in bed. It was just her and her husband. Bandit had just listened to Chilli recount her day at work; apparently, some guy tried to smuggle physical child pornography out of the country. She noted that the kid in the disgusting pictures looked a little like a certain border collie, but she thought it was just a coincidence.

“Not good. Richie smacked Mackenzie on his bum when he first showed up. Then he cut his finger open with one of the kiddy scissors because Bluey called him ‘Border Boy.’” Bandit does quotation marks with his blue digits, wondering what ‘Border Boy’ even meant and why Mackenzie got so upset over it. “So I cleaned him up, right? Then I discovered blood on the toilet seat. He was bleeding from his arsehole, Chilli!”

Chilli gasps and fearfully asks, “You don’t think he could have been…” She didn’t want to finish the sentence, but Bandit knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“I’m almost positive he’s being raped, Chilli. I mean, how else would he be bleeding from his fucking bumhole?! And when I got that mess cleaned up, all Mackenzie wanted to do was cling to me. Really, I never expected that from him. I mean, his mum told me about his separation anxiety, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“I don’t think it’s just separation anxiety, Bandit. I think he’s got a whole lot going on that we don’t know about. Say, did he seem scared of Richie? What if he was raping Mackenzie?”

Bandit shakes his head, initially agreeing with his wife at first. “Nah. Richie apologized when I told him that his kiddo didn’t like it when he smacked his behind. Mackenzie said something earlier about men not letting him say ‘no’, or something to that line. Richie ain’t raping him, Chilli, but someone is.”

At the same time, the two heelers yawn, which causes them both to giggle. It was small moments like these that made them grateful that they had each other. “I think it’s time for bed, Big Blue. We can worry about this tomorrow. Goodnight, Bandit.”

Just as Bandit was about to repeat the sentiment, his eyes fell on the little girl right beside Chilli’s bedside. It was Bluey, holding an empty glass of water with a concerned expression on her face. 

“Mum?” Bluey asks cautiously. “What’s raped?”

A young dachshund lay strapped on a cold, iron table, not knowing how he got there or why he was there. His hat was draped over his face, so it wasn’t like he could see anything. His short, stubby limbs were bound to each corner, stretched as far as they could reach, which got a little uncomfortable after a while. 

“Hello?” The puppy called out. “Is anyone there?” He tried to perk his long, floppy ears up as he heard three footsteps: two adult and one child. The next thing he knew, his hat was ripped off his face, revealing two grown men beaming down at him. One was an unfamiliar border collie, and the other was a dog that the pup recognized, but couldn’t name. 

The pup chuckled nervously, and he tried to lighten the mood. “Um, hi… why am I here?” One dog pulled out a camera, and he started to record, while the other one put on some weird black mask with a zipper on the mouth. 

“Hey, what are you doing?!” The child yelped as the masked dog began to stroke his long torso, starting at his chest and down to his penis. With a little stimulation, the boy’s penis revealed itself, and without warning, was stabbed by the masked man with a hypodermic needle. 

“Ow! Ow! Stop it, please!” The dachshund cried as the man began to jostle the needle, effectively skewering his penis. With a bit of work, the needle eventually made its way out of the other side of the penis, sticking itself out like a frightened prairie dog. 

The masked monster then unzipped his mouth and bit down as hard as he could on the dachshund’s small penis. It proved quite easy to tear it off, with him having sharp canine teeth and all. 

“Ahhh! Please, what did I do?” The elongated puppy wailed, trying to make sense of what was going on. He got no answer, as he got a large, colorful object that he couldn’t recognize shoved up his bum. The dachshund writhed in agony as the strange thing was pumped in and out repeatedly until he felt like he was going to both poo and tear in half. 

Oh, but it only got so much worse. The last thing the pup saw before blacking out was a hacksaw being used on his long body. That body always made it difficult for him to sit, because he would always fall over. In a last-ditch effort to comfort himself, the dachshund thought of how he didn’t have to worry about sitting anymore. Soon, it would all be over. He didn’t register the feeling of his guts splaying out, he didn’t register the feeling of his crotch and backside being covered in blood and other fluids, and he didn’t register any pain. He could not hear the moans of those sick men, nor the grim light of the camera used to document his pain. He couldn’t even hear the child whimpering in the back, being forced to watch his friend be tortured to death. No, there was nothing.

And then, he was gone. 

“Um..well, rape is very bad, Bluey.” Chilli Heeler says as she pours her daughter a glass of water. “It’s where someone touches or hurts you in your private bits.”

Bluey nods, taking the glass of water and gulping it down. “Is Mackenzie being raped?”

The red heeler cringes as she realizes that her young, innocent daughter heard everything she and Bandit were talking about. Trying to think of a way to explain the situation to an eight-year-old, Chilli stammers. “Well, we don’t really know, Bluey. Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

“Alright, then.” Chilli yawns. “Come on, let’s get back to bed.”

“Oh, one last thing, Mum.”

“Yes, Bluey?” Asks the exasperated but still respectful Chilli.

“Is that what happened to Coco and Bentley?” Her mum nods, and Bluey frowns. “I don’t want my friends to be raped.”

“Yeah, me neither, kid.”