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Bart Simpson's Guide To Incest
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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-Bart Simpson's Guide To Incest-
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Chapter Four
The characters of Bart and Marge Simpson and Santa's Little Helper are
Copyright © 1989 20th Century Fox and are used without permission.
This story is Copyright © 1994 by Sunny D. Please distribute intact.
Revision 1.1
WARNING: This story includes graphic nudity and beastiality between a minor
cartoon character and his willing pet. You have been warned.
Fourth in a series of non-sequential stories.
And now, let the story begin...
"Ahh..." Bart sighed as the muscles in his tense, nude body relaxed. He
enjoyed the simple excercise of coming home from school and taking a dump.
The twelve year old pubescent boy looked thoughtfully at the pile of clothes
at his feet. He liked to strip before taking the throne, it kept his clothes
out of the way and it just plain felt good. His mind turned toward what to
do for the afternoon. Lisa had a doctor's appointment, and so Marge had
taken Maggie with her, giving him the run of the house until around 5:00.
Deciding he was done, Bart reached over and unrolled a strip of toilet paper
from the dispenser, folding it a few times, and reached back to wipe his
butt. He went to repeat the procedure, but only pulled three sheets of paper
from the roll before the last piece pulled from the core.
"Aw, man!" Bart grumbled, getting to his feet. He knelt in front of the
sink, and opened the cabinet door beneath it.
"D'oh!" he cried as he looked inside only to find that the space usually
reserved for toilet paper was empty. Rising to his feet, he opened the
bathroom door and stepped into the hallway.
"There's gotta be a roll in the hall closet..." Bart figured, and strolled
down the hall, enjoying the feel of the air against his skin. Opening the
closet, he found salvation at his fingertips, as an unopened multipack of
Charmin sat on the bottom shelf. He opened it and pulled out a roll, closed
the closet door, and turned back toward the bathroom. He tossed the roll
into the air and caught it a few times as he walked back toward the john,
until on the fourth toss he bobbled the catch, and the toilet paper went
rolling down the hall. To his dismay, it began to bounce down the steps to
the first floor.
"Whoops..." he muttered as he chased after it. Reaching the bottom of the
stairs, he found Santa's Little Helper waiting there to greet him.
"Hey, boy." Bart said to him, patting his head. "Seen my toilet paper?" SLH
merely looked at him as Bart dropped to his hands and knees, looking around
and behind the plant stand, then crawling over to the hat stand on the other
side of the door.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, finding the roll. Backing up so that he could pick up
the roll, he pushed his bottom back toward Santa's Little Helper's face.
Curious, the dog brought his nose closer to his master's butt and lightly
sniffed. Tentatively, he stuck out his tongue and gave the yellow valley an
exploratory lick.
"Woah!" Bart yelled, jumping up in shock from the wet probe. SLH leapt back,
frightened by the response. Bart was flooded by a myriad of unfamiliar and
confusing sensations, and he became aware that his penis had jumped to a
semi-erect position. Indeed, his whole crotch and butt tingled from the
experience.
For a long moment, he just stood there, trying to make sense of what had just
happened. Had his dog just done what he thought he had? Bart had to admit
the sensation was not unpleasant. Curious at the response it provoked, Bart
looked at his faithful friend.
"Do that again, boy!" Bart asked him, turning and bending over slightly.
Santa's Little Helper cautiously trotted over, sniffed him, and greeted his
master's anus with four slow licks with his warm, wet, rough tongue, each one
sending a dizzying rush of pleasure up his back. Bart's tool was standing at
complete attention now, and his pet gently nuzzled the side of his master's
bare leg for approval.
"Good boy, good boy." Bart praised his dog as he woozily sat down on the
stairs, legs spread, reeling from the unbelieveable waves of pleasure
rippling through him. He lovingly stroked the fur on his dog's head for a
time, before setting his hands on the steps.
Santa's Little Helper sniffed up the inside of Bart's thigh, which sent even
more confusing signals to the pleasure center of his brain. Reaching Bart's
crotch, he again brandished his tongue and flicked it against the side of his
erect penis.
That unexpected action lit Bart's mind on fire, and all he could think to do
was praise him as his mind swam. Another one, two, three, four licks slapped
across his sensitive glans and he felt like he would explode from the stabs
of ecstacy that his pet's tongue was giving him. Never in his wildest dreams
had he imagined that any girl could give him such pleasure, let alone his own
dog!
"Good boy! Good boy! Good boy!" Bart squeaked, shakily rubbing Santa's
Little Helper's side before leaning back against the steps, quaking. In
response, the dog roughly licked Bart's scrotum and nuzzled his crotch,
tickling his shaft with his whiskers.
When his master did not attend to him, the pup jumped up, putting his front
paws on Bart's hips and leaning over him. Gently, he licked Bart's cheek.
Bart lethargically petted Santa's Little Helper's side.
As much as Bart wanted to continue, the front stairs were uncomfortable, not
to mention less than private. If anyone would come in the door, or even look
in the window, they would have no difficulty watching him playing with his
dog. He sat up, and SLH jumped back.
"C'mon boy, let's go upstairs and have some fun, okay?" Bart asked eagerly,
turning and climbing the stairs, gesturing for him to follow.
The pair entered Bart's room. Bart closed the door behind them, and pulled
down the windowshade. Then, Bart dropped to his hands and knees, once again
presenting himself to his faithful friend. Santa's Little Helper walked up
behind him, and once again eagerly pushed his tongue against Bart's tender
anus.
"Ohhh, good boy." Bart praised, turning and laying on the floor. "Now lick
my pee-pee." The dog brought his muzzle to his master and again curled his
pink tongue against Bart's yellow head. He felt his shaft contract, and a
glob of precum oozed out, only to be swept up by his pup's rough tongue, a
strand of the sticky fluid stringing from his slit to the dog's lips.
Santa's Little Helper stopped abruptly, and backed off. He sat down and
curled his head back to his own crotch. Bart could see his pet's own bright
pink penis extending from its protective sheath. Curious, and suddenly
feeling guilty at the one-sidedness of the exchange, Bart crawled over to the
dog.
"Good boy." Bart told him as he stroked his fur lower and lower down his
side, until his hand curled around his pet's foreskin. He softly massaged
the dog's balls and stroked his sheath. Slowly, the tubelike tip of its head
crept out. Santa's Little Helper jerked when Bart gently touched it, but
deciding that his master meant no harm, let him pet it for several seconds.
Looking down at his own genitals, Bart could see a huge amount of his own
clear fluid trickling down the side of his pee-pee. Santa's Little Helper
seemed to realize this too, as he bent down and licked his shaft clean.
Bart again laid back, his legs spread, and let his dog pleasure him. After a
few flicks of the tongue, Bart lifted his legs into the air, exposing his
entire crotch, from his tan anus to his pink-twinged yellow glans. The
greyhound briefly ran his tongue over Bart's boycunt, gave his loose scrotum
a lick, and ran his tongue up the underside of his cock. Then, SLH stepped
between his legs, and again began to lick his master's face.
Bart could feel the sticky mixture of saliva and both his of their precum
against his face, but he could also feel something else. The fur of Santa's
Little Helper's belly was rubbing against his penis as he breathed.
Almost instinctively, Bart bucked his hips, which produced yet another
amazing sensation. Pushing his rear up against Santa's Little Helper, Bart
could feel his pet's canine pee-pee rub against his anus as his own pee-pee
stroked against his fur. The dog wasn't sure what to think of the action,
but Bart put his arms around him and hugged him. SLH responded by licking
his face.
Bart could feel his cock rubbing a slick of precum against his pet's belly,
and he felt an orgasm beginning to well up deep inside. He pushed his butt
against his faithful friend again, and felt his entire body tighten. Santa's
Little Helper whimpered. Bart couldn't believe it - his own dog was making
him cum!
Bart pushed against him again, and blew his wad. He fired spurt after spurt
between his skin and SLH's fur. Confused and a little scared, the dog
struggled to get free, which only heightened Bart's pleasure as he rubbed
himself against Santa's Little Helper's fur.
At last, Santa's Little Helper pulled free. Bart could see the large puddle
of semen on his tummy, the creamy goo still trickling out of his spent penis.
He could also see the slick on his dog's belly that brought him off.
Slowly, the pup padded back to Bart's side, and gave a tender lick to his
master's slimy shaft. Bart reached up and petted his friend.
"Good boy!" he told him, running the fingers of his other hand through the
puddle on his stomach absent-mindedly. After awhile, Bart led his faithful
pet out of the room and cleaned him up. Leaving him with a doggie biscuit,
he went back to the bathroom and showered.
Half an hour later, Bart laid on his bed, thumbing through an old issue of
Radioactive Man, Santa's Little Helper napping quietly at the foot of the
bed. The front door opened, and Marge walked in.
"Bart! We're home!" his mother called out. Bart looked at his puppy on the
floor.
"Shh!" he told him, smiling, when Marge's voice again drifted upstairs.
"Bart, what's this roll of toilet paper doing down here?" she wondered.
FINIS
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