EHEHEHE yeah...I did ask  lager to do this, and yes, I am a trash homunculus...

If you follow me over on Bsky (If you don't, why don't you? Get off twitter: https://bsky.app/profile/caudlewag.bsky.social ), I got very into a french cartoon called Belfort and Lupin. It's not like...complex...or written PARTICULARLY well, but its been a hard year and sometimes you just wanna watch two dogs solve a random problem for 22 minutes.

Anyway, being me...my brain brained and of course I thought about this....and wrote a small word-doodle story about it...that you can read here...yep. Trash, garbage...REFUSE AM I...

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“You’re going to love this, my dear Lupin!” The royal dog strolled between the shafts of light that poured through the enormous windows lining the halls of Versailles. A low whumph of motion trailing in his wake.
“I-I’m not too sure about that Belfort…grooming is more your thing…and recently you’ve had a…lot to groom.”
Lupin ducked out of the way as Belfort’s tail swung overhead, despite the fact the wolf was several hound-lengths away from the princely pooch.
It had been several months since that traveling troupe had given Belfort the charm that had changed his tail. There had been many weeks of panic, crying, catastrophizing, and bundling himself up in his newly lengthened hind appendage, but…eventually, Lupin had managed to get him to accept this new part of himself.
The favorite dog of Versailles had begun taking it in stride recently, and the change was noticeable.
The tail of Augustin Prosper de Belfort had become a fluffy leviathan, easily two and a half times as long as the dog it was attached to. His white, fluffy fur covered a surprisingly dense and strong core, with a prehensility that put the monkeys in the menagerie to shame.
A dog’s tail was a prime point of communication, wagging, tucking, fluffing, standing, all of it was useful information to display. Lupin had always found Belfort’s tail to be polite and reserved, never wagging too hard, going far beyond its usual casual, coiffed curl at the hound’s back.
This had continued to be true when the transformation had taken place. The massive thing sitting in a coiled pile behind him at all times, attempting to hide it, or curled into a massive snail-shell spiral above his haunches so as not to knock anything over. But once the King had found out and had reacted, not with horror, but with delight at how unique his favorite dog had become, that sheepishness had evaporated.
Now the lengthy limb was very expressive. It was still polite, because decorum was baked into Belfort like sugar into a cookie, but now it gestured, it grabbed things, it grabbed…wolves.


“My tail may take a lot of upkeep these days, but you have to admit it’s very soft and delightfully silky. Bazire spends an hour on it each morning.”
Lupin couldn’t get out of the way as Belfort’s tail swung low and pushed its fluffy bulk against the base of his neck, sumptuous cream colored fluff pillowed against his throat, the warmth of the core beneath warming his senses. Bazire tended to be heavy on the perfume and the massive powder puff of a thing smelled like biscotti and cream.
The wolf made a noise. He squirmed and slipped on the waxed floor. He almost faceplanted, but the tail against his front slowed his fall. Belfort’s loving hold ferried him to the floor like a feather.
“One of these days we’ll have to get you used to walking indoors…” he chuckled.
Lupin tried to ignore the burst of Belfot’s scent that blossomed up into his sensitive nose. He could feel the perfume sinking into his fur, replacing the florid scent of the forest with the sweet, pampered, plush scent of the palace. His eyes went unfocused, and he nuzzled into the fluff on automatic before he caught himself.
Could he really go back to the forest smelling like that? Surely this grooming business was a bad idea…
He righted himself, shaking his fur out and turning around to walk back the way they had come.
“Look, why don’t we just go out to the fountains and see what the swans are doing, I-”
His breath caught with a stuttery noise as he felt something soft, warm, and familiar wind over his hinds. He looked back to see Belfort smirking over his shoulder.
A small wiggle of the royal haunches sent Belfort’s tail curling up Lupin’s body, wrapping around under his barrel in a thick, fluffy loop, wrapping another just under the wolf’s forelegs. Lupin could only squirm and whine as the distressingly prehensile appendage wound around his neck. He lifted his paws and tried to push at it, but his struggles were absorbed into that perfumed plume of a tail. He could feel Belfort’s scent wicking into his fur all over. He knew his ‘friend’ couldn’t smell, but if he could…
Lupin opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, that fluffy serpent tucked itself under his chin and curled its end around his snout like the world’s most luxuriously affectionate muzzle.
“Now, my dear Lupin, you said I get to pick what we do today…”
With fidget-inducingly little effort, Belfort braced his hind legs and, with a flex, lifted the wolf bodily from the floor of the palace. Lupin felt the warm density under that opulent fluff tense and hold him tighter, getting a grip, stilling his wiggles.
“And I want to see how you look with a good brushing…” Belfort chuckled warmly and began a happy little trot towards the grooming room, Lupin bobbing in his wake, captured and coiled, the tail tip around his muzzle lovingly stroking his cheek as Belfort’s biscotti scent became his world.
It was going to be a long day.