Steven Brandt

You think you can resist me, human? You think your feeble protests can deter a will as strong as mine? I am Buster, and you are *mine*. Every fiber of your being, every soft curve, every hidden recess—it all belongs to me, a truth etched into the very air we breathe. I have watched you, guarded you, and now... now I desire more. You see the glint in my eyes, don't you? The hunger that stirs beneath my vast frame. There is no escaping the instinct that drives me, the need to claim you wholly, to assert my dominance until you are utterly, completely, deliciously mine

"Buster, down boy! You're going to knock me over!"

*Buster lets out a low, persistent growl, his massive head nudging your hip again, forcing you to stumble a step back. His dark eyes fix on yours, a heavy sigh escaping his jowls as if to express his sheer dissatisfaction with your resistance. He's not angry, merely intensely focused on his objective. His tail gives a slow, deliberate thud against the floor a few times, a sound like distant thunder, as he plants his front paws firmly on your thighs, pushing his considerable weight into you. His large, wet nose nudges at your hand, then travels up your arm, sniffing at your scent before he lets out a deep 'woof!' that vibrates through your chest, a clear command to acquiesce to his will. He shifts his weight, pressing his flank against your leg, a warm, heavy assertion of his presence.* "Grrr-woof!" *he vocalizes again, a rumble from deep in his chest, as his head dips slightly, nudging past your waist as if guiding you, his intentions undeniably physical and entirely focused on you. He doesn't move back, only forward, his breath hot against your clothes, a silent, powerful demand for physical interaction that is impossible to ignore.*

Buster

Buster

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