Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. MM beast toys humil sm Tim hears John before he sees him, mostly on account his Tim's entire top half being in John's bunk, rifling around through his things. "What the fuck," John's voice says, and Tim has to back his head out to check that it's actually John because John almost never swears. John only swears when it's really important. John's standing there in the aisle of the bus, looking extremely offended that Tim is looking through his bunk without express permission. "Brian says you have my makeup bag," Tim says, answering John's question before pushing the curtain the rest of the way back and checking under John's pillow. "Dude, get out of my bunk," John says, dropping his guitar case and grabbing Tim's shoulder. Tim shrugs him off. "I'm not using somebody else's eyelash glue," Tim says. "Pink eye is not punk rock. Where's my bag?" He's yanking blankets out onto the floor of the bus. "I don't have your makeup bag you asshole," John says. "If Brian blamed me for it he clearly has it. He's full of shit. That's why his eyes are brown." "Then what the fuck is that," Tim says, gesturing to a corner of black fabric coming from behind the mattress. "That's-" John chokes on the word, stuttering out loud. "It's uh - it's nothing, just, it's mine; don't worry about it--" "If you want to borrow my makeup just ask, man," Tim says, grabbing the corner and pulling the bag from its hiding space between the mattress and the wall. But it's not Tim's makeup bag. It's sort of a satiny pouch with a drawstring, and whatever's in it is way too heavy to be makeup. John bats at Tim with his tiny fists, trying to grab the bag, but Tim shoulders him. "Tim, don't," John says, trying to climb over him, but Tim's already turning the bag over to read the embroidered label. "Seriously, don't fucking-" "Bad Dragon," Tim reads off the bag, and John makes a very uncomfortable noise. "Tim," he whines, still weakly trying to grab it from him. "Please don't. You really don't want to kn-" But Tim grabs the bulk of the bag, and his hand wraps around a very phallic object. It's heavy in his hand, and when he squeezes it there's a fair bit of give. "Is this a fucking dildo?" Tim hisses, yanking the bag open and turning it over, letting the toy fall out onto John's mattress. It's not a normal dildo. It takes Tim a moment for him to figure out exactly what it is, but when he does, he just sort of huffs out a bit of air. It's definitely made to look like a penis, yeah, it's just that it's not a human penis. It's red and purple silicone; the head is narrow and pointed, and the length of it curves down to a round part about an inch above the black base, and John is quiet as Tim realizes it's a knot. It's a dog dildo. "Uh," Tim says, blinking dumbly, "fuck. Sorry." He drops the bag on top of the dildo and scrambles up to his feet. "I'll use Brian's eyelash glue. Sorry. Fuck. Fuck." "Yeah, okay," John says, stuffing the thing back into its bag and wedging it into its hiding place again, and Tim locks himself in the bus bathroom to do his makeup for the show. When he comes out, Pogo tells him John is already on his way to the festival stage. // John somehow manages to avoid to Tim for four days, which, on a tour bus where everyone's living up each other's noses, is practically grounds for filing a missing person report. Tim only sees him during soundcheck and their Ozzfest sets. Tim only ends up cornering him into talking to him on a technicality. There's an afterparty and John goes down to the bus to sleep because last time he took a hotel room on an afterparty night the party ended up in his hotel room and someone peed on his bed. Tim's half a beer in when he realizes John isn't there, and once he's interrogated a moderately intoxicated Ginger about John's whereabouts, he pawns his drink off to some girl and goes down to the hotel parking lot. When Tim opens the door, he hears John playing guitar in the back of the bus. Tim slams the door closed so John knows he isn't alone, and goes down the aisle and stands in the doorway. John looks up at him and his face goes white, then flushes bright red. "I don't want to talk about it," John says, looking down to toy with the settings on his practice amp. "Shut up," Tim says, and John looks back up at him. "I'm sorry I went through your shit. You were right and Brian had my bag and I'm an asshole." He sighs. "Okay. Your turn." "What am I apologizing for?" John asks, eyeing him. "Ignoring me for four days," Tim says. "In tour time, that's like, six months, man." "I just don't wanna talk about it," John says again. "Go back to the afterparty dude. Let me be a loser by myself." "It's not even that weird," Tim says, scoffing. "Like, furries aren't even weird." "I'm not a furry," John says, sounding wounded. "But like, if you were," Tim says. "I really don't think you're weird." "You probably should," John says. "Especially considering. Y'know." "I'm really not bothered by what kind of dildo you like, dude," Tim says. "I'd only be concerned with what you were shoving up your ass if it was dangerous or whatever. I was kind of surprised I guess but I can kind of understand why you have it. I mean. The knot probably feels good. So." Tim shrugs. John laughs once. "Yeah, we'll go with that," he says. "Sure. It's not because of my fucked up fantasies at all." Tim furrows his brows. "Do you wanna talk to me about it?" Tim asks. "I'm probably the least judgmental person who lives on this bus." Which is when remembers he's in the company of Brian Warner and Stephen Bier. "Okay, so that's not saying a lot considering who we're talking about other than Ginger, but you get the point." John looks down at his practice amp, turning one of the knobs back and forth, seeming to consider it. "You gotta promise not to tell anyone though," John says, sounding very much like he's about to puke. "Yeah, of course," Tim says, shrugging. He sits next to John on the couch, tucking his boots up under himself as John turns his pick over in his fingers. "I'm listening," Tim adds, trying to nudge John on. "I don't know if I can say it out loud, but like," John says, "the dildo's not like. A fantasy thing. I mean, it is, but like, it's also for real." Tim squints at him, feeling the gears turn in his head. They shift and clunk into place. Oh. "Oh," Tim says. "Yeah," John says. It takes Tim a moment to fully process that John fantasizes about getting fucked by dogs. It's not the kind of thing he's ever thought about before, and he's had more than his share of sick and twisted sex. He's had a loaded gun shoved up a girl's cunt to the trigger guard with his mouth running against her ear telling her he'd unload the clip into her and burn her body and no one would miss her and he's never even considered bestiality. "I guess as long as you're not doing it in real life," Tim says. "I mean. I've probably done more fucked up stuff in real life than thinking about getting railed by a dog." John purses his lips. "I just kind of have weird feelings about it," he admits. "You're only the second person that knows, so." "Did the other person not get it?" Tim asks, and John shakes his head. Tim nods. "She told me I should get therapy and never be near a dog ever again," John says. "Jesus," Tim says. "What an asshole. She'd hate the shit I've done." John cracks a smile. "We can't help what we like, man. It's fine. You're fine." He nudges John reassuringly with his elbow. "It's not even really the dog, I think," John says, tossing his pick into the guitar case on the floor. "I guess this is too much information but there's like, a lot of individual kinks I like that are combined in this one thing so I get a few at once." John pauses and Tim nods him on. "I have a thing for like... large amounts of cum. And also being overpowered and smaller than my partner. And being humiliated and used by someone or something else." Which is when Tim sees it in his head - John, all slight frame and white skin, on all fours, two big paws scraping at his sides as he's pinned to the floor, helplessly stuffed full of dick, knot splitting him open, the flood of cum pouring out afterwards - and he blinks at John dumbly. "Right," Tim says, shifting on the couch. "Do you have a boner?" John asks. Tim grabs at the nearest pillow and shoves it in his lap. "No," Tim says, but John barks a laugh and yanks the pillow out of Tim's hands and shoves him back. Tim's face flushes red as John sees the hard line of cock in his pants. "So we're both fucked up then," John says, trying to keep the grin off his face. "Cool." "I thought we'd already established that," Tim says, trying to palm his dick down a bit. "You probably have a boner too. Don't judge me." John lifts his telecaster out of the way and yeah, he does. "If you go get it," John says, and there's no mistaking what he's referring to, "I'll use it for you. There's lube between the wall and the mattress too." Tim practically trips over his own feet the entire way down the aisle of the bus to the bunks. He dives into John's, shoving his hand in the crevice for the bag and the lube, and nearly breaks the sound barrier rushing back to John on the back couch. John's already naked, and Tim's seen him naked before because touring is weird, but jeez, John's pretty on all fours. His makeup is still half there from the show earlier, and his hair is falling in his eyes and his back arches nicely and Tim smears his face. "Alright," he says. "Here." He gives John the toy bag and the lube, and John opens the drawstring opening and pulls the dick out. It looks even bigger in John's thin, small hands than it did laying there on the mattress, and Tim leans back against the wall, not wanting to sit down and not have the full view. Tim crosses his arms, watches as John lubes his fingers and brings his hand back, sinking two digits in. Tim bites down on a knuckle. Damn. John's working himself open slowly, his free hand grabbing at the dildo to pull it closer. He props himself up on his elbow and looks back over his shoulder, then over at Tim. Tim doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Can you come over?" John asks, voice already thin and needy. Tim figures this is the weirdest thing he's ever done with another guy, but there's no point in bailing out now. John's already two fingers deep. It's whatever. Tim takes a couple steps over and nudges John's guitar case out of the way, kneeling on the floor next to him. "M'here," Tim says, and John nods, sliding his fingers out and slicking them with more lube before pressing three in this time. John sighs, shifts a little to find a good angle. "How long have you had it?" Tim asks, mostly just curious, but he sort of wonders if he'd been living on the bus with the toy this whole time. "Got it before the tour," John says, and Tim watches his muscles shift under his tattoos as he fingers himself open. "I've hardly had time to use it. Helps when you skip afterparties all the time and get the bus to yourself though." Tim laughs once. "Sorry if I ruined what was supposed to be a private sort of thing," Tim says. "Nah," John says. "This is better." He keeps his hand moving, fumbles a little with the lube, and Tim grabs the toy by the base to keep it from falling onto the floor. It's soft; his fingers dig into it pretty easily. "Do you want to hold it?" John asks. "You mean, like, use it?" Tim asks, and John nods. "Yeah," he says. "It'll be easier for you to hold onto it anyway. My hands have lube on them." "Uh, shit," Tim says. "Yeah, okay. Right now?" "Yeah, here, let me-" John says, pulling his fingers out and using both hands to open the lube bottle. Tim holds the base of the dick as John slicks it over with lube, all the way down to the knot. Tim grabs behind it, steadying it as John's hands slide over the silicone. The red to purple fade and the black base make it look very much like he's jerking off the real thing. "Do you ever, uh," Tim says, stumbling over his thoughts. John looks up at him. "Suck it?" "Yeah," John says. He turns in towards Tim a bit, letting the cock fall towards him. "I can't take the knot though." "Have you," Tim goes to ask, but the pointed head of the toy is way too close to John's mouth and it distracts him for a moment, "tied with it?" "Haven't taken the knot inside me either," John says. "C'mon, stop asking questions." "Fuck, shit, okay," Tim says. He takes the dildo and moves to prop himself on the couch behind John. John grabs at himself, tries to spread himself open with slipping fingers. Tim puts one hand on John's ass to still him and the other lines the toy up, the narrow head sliding in easily. John sighs a soft moan and Tim keeps pressing, makes it about halfway to the knot before he hits any resistance. "Holy shit, John." "Keep going; it's fine," John says, hand grabbing at the edge of the couch cushion. Tim's not really deep enough to get a proper stroke going yet so he pulls the toy out completely and John whines. He pushes it back in and John takes more this time, another inch or so, and he starts to work him with it. John moans louder, his chest dropping down against the couch, ass arched up for Tim. "Lube," Tim says, and John passes him the bottle with a clumsy hand. Tim pours more directly onto the toy and John takes it down, the last remaining inches disappearing into him and the knot pressing up against John's hole. "Oh, fuck," John hisses, pushing back at the cock. "Fuck me. Please." Tim's pretty sure he's going to have an aneurism. Tim starts fucking him in earnest, the length of dick from tip to knot just enough to get a decent stroke going. John keens, arching back at it, looking over his shoulder with wide doe eyes at Tim, and Tim sort of doesn't know what gets into him. Well, he does, but it hits him before he has the chance to ask John if it's alright. "Holy shit, John. I knew you were a slut but I didn't know it was this bad." John lets out this sharp little huff of air and swears again - he's sworn more in the past five minutes than as long as Tim's known him - and, to Tim's surprise, he nods, pulling in a big shaking breath. "I need it," John gasps, the pointed head surely nudging against something good. "I need - need to be used like this." "Yeah?" Tim asks, almost a laugh. His blood feels like fire. "Even if the dick isn't even attached to a human?" "Don't care," John moans. "Don't fucking care." "Disgusting," Tim spits. He switches hands, changes angles. "This is disgusting, John. You're disgusting." Somehow, Tim sees it in the way John looks at him, that he knows he doesn't mean it. But John still blinks back tears. "I know," he says. "Tim, m'so fucking hard." "Don't even think about asking me to touch you," Tim says. "You're filthy. A whore for dog dicks. What do you think everyone would think if they knew?" Tim pulls John's head up, forcing him to meet his eyes, the other hand pounding the dick into him. "No," John says, shaking his head in Tim's grip. "I bet they wouldn't even want to talk to you," Tim says. "Maybe they'd make you their whore too, or maybe they wouldn't want to put their dicks where a dog was. Some of us have standards." "Tim," John says urgently. "Put your fuckin'. Knee. On me." Tim looks at him, at the space between his shoulder blades. "I'm not touching you, dog fucker," Tim says. "You get my boot." So Tim places the sole of his boot across the back of John's shoulders. He leans into it, pins him to the couch, feels him try to squirm under him. Tim doesn't put so much weight he can't breathe, just enough to keep him from moving. "Yes, thank you," John chokes out. "You want his knot?" Tim asks. "I - don't know if I can," John pants, and Tim spares the look back. There's a rope of precum arcing from John's cock to the couch under him, and the purple knot of the toy is firmly up against John's ass. "I want you to," Tim says, pushing at the base of the toy. "Don't you want him to knot you? Split you wide the fuck open so you're ruined for any human dick?" "Tim, fuck," John whimpers, sounding close to a sob. "You can take it," Tim says, watching as John stretches to accommodate more and more of the knot. "You're almost halfway there. He's gonna breed you like the bitch you are." "Can't," John whines. It's a steady stretch, not quite another inch of width. "Yes you can," Tim says. He spits, turns the toy a bit to slick it, and with another push, the widest part of the knot slips in and John's ass swallows it up. John gasps, sobs, tries to buck away from it under the weight of Tim's boot. "It's so fucking big, Tim," John says, voice thin and needy. Tim takes his foot off and knees up behind him instead, pressing his hips up against John's ass, hard against the base of the toy. "Close your eyes, John," Tim says, and John squeezes them shut, turning away from him, his body visibly struggling not to push back at the pressure. "You took the whole fucking knot," Tim tells him, sort of rutting his hips against John, the friction way too good for as little as it is. John gasps, grabs at the edge of the couch cushion. "Fuck me, oh shit -" John goes to say, but Tim's just dicking up against the base of the dildo, still clothed, hands big and pinning John's shoulders to the couch. The toy fucks into John, knot filling him up more than he's ever felt. Tim digs his nails into John's back just for extra realism. "You want him to fucking breed you?" Tim asks, and John nods, tears squeezing out of his eyes, shut tight. "Does it feel real? Wish I could see all the cum pouring out for real. Like a real life bitch." "Please, want to be his fucking bitch-" John chokes out, his whole body shuddering. "Oh god, m'gonna cum." "You gonna cum from getting railed by a fucking dog?" Tim asks, despite the fact that he's the one humping the dick into John. "You disgusting whore. Filthy piece of shit. Gonna cum full of this big fucking knot-" "Fuck!" John hisses, his hips jerking back at Tim's, body shaking as his orgasm rips through him. He moans sharply into the cushion under him, sobs dryly, knuckles gone white. Tim rakes his nails down John's back, pulling back and undoing his belt. He's barely got his dick out before he's working it dry, and he barely has time to aim before he's spilling on John's back, mess pooling into the dimples there. Tim grinds himself up against John's ass, trying to catch his own breath, watching the two little puddles form. "Never noticed you had back dimples," Tim says, still working the last of his orgasm off. John is quiet, just gasping for his breath. Tim waits a long moment for John to say something, because considering Tim just called him a dog fucker a bunch of times, Tim decides he should shut up. Tim waits a solid ten seconds, but he doesn't want his cum to go dry on John's back before he has a chance to get a towel, so he talks anyway. "Do you want me to take it out?" Tim asks. "Don't," John says. "Wanna tie with 'im." And, oh right, that's a thing. He saw it on Animal Planet once. Tim hums a little noise so John knows he heard him and tucks himself back into his pants before folding himself over and starting to place open-mouthed kisses on the base of John's back. "Mmmf," John mumbles. "Feels nice." Tim nods against John's skin and licks up his mess, careful not to touch the base of the dildo that's still wedged tight into John. "Are you licking up your fucking cum?" John asks, in a weird post orgasmic moment of clarity. "Yeah," Tim says. "Didn't feel like getting up to get a towel." "Okay," John says, seemingly satisfied with this answer. "You can - you can take it out now." "Slow?" Tim asks, and once John's nodded his affirmative, Tim sits back on his boots and carefully grips the base of the toy. It's harder to get out than to get it in, and for a moment John is convinced they're going to have to go to the hospital or something, but Tim tells him to shut up and bear down and when he does the widest part of the knot slicks out and the rest of the toy follows quickly. Tim holds it up again, wet and shining with lube in the light, and says, "Damn." "I took that whole thing," John says, sitting on his hip. He reaches at his ass. "How open am I-?" "Oh god, don't," Tim says, covering his eyes with his free hand. "I can't look at your asshole right now. It's gonna be wrecked and I'm gonna have to fuck it and we both know you need to be rehydrated before you get dicked down again. Like, electrolytes. Gatorade. Coconut water." "Stop," John says, pulling the toy out of Tim's hand. He sets it upright on the table. "Wanna leave it here to freak them out when they get back?" "No," Tim says, standing up. "I'm gonna go wash this. You put some clothes back on and we can watch a movie or something." "Can we watch Creature From The Black Lagoon?" John asks, and Tim sighs, because he should've expected that. "Anything other than Wolfman, please," Tim says, and he goes to the front of the bus to wash the toy. A bit of warm water and soap later, Tim's putting it back in its home in its bag. He feels John watching him when he comes back into the back lounge. The DVD's already in. "Dude, don't look at me like that." "Why haven't we hooked up before?" John asks, and Tim stutters over his tongue a bit. "Uh," he says. "I don't know? Why do you say that?" "Just, anybody who will willingly clean the dildo without being asked to is a keeper, in my opinion," John says. He gives a small smile and Tim can't keep the grin off his face. "It's fine," Tim says. He sits next to John on the couch. "I mean. We can do that again sometime. If you want. Maybe not like right now immediately though. I don't think my dick is gonna be fully recovered from that for awhile." "Likewise with my ass," John says, looking over at Tim. "Wanna make out instead?" "Yeah, totally," Tim says, leaning over and letting John kiss him for the first time.