Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 6 of snow in.
I've decided to keep a written journal to keep track of time and collect my thoughts. I guess this story should start at the beginning. It all started with work, my clients were being worse than usual, so I made a rash decision. In an act of great intelligence, I scheduled a remote, mountain vacation this winter, without telling anyone except the vacation planner and cabin renter. I was eager to clear my head by exploring the snowy peaks of the Colorado Rockies with my dog, Ginger. It was going great, until a loud noise in the night nearly gave me a heart attack. The entire cabin was creaking, all the windows darkened, until I opened the front door to reveal a mountain of snow blocking my only exit. I tried to dig out at first, but it made the creaking even worse, and I was afraid the roof would collapse if I disturbed the snow. The planner said the snow would melt off in a month or so, and the cabin had emergency supplies for a group of four, so I should be okay with Ginger, there's some dried jerky I've been feeding her. The dog doesn't even seem to mind being cooped up, except for having to go in the corner. I've been heaping snow on our offal to keep the smell down. Bless this dog, she's really helping me from cracking up, I don't need all this stress in my life right now.
Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 13 of snow in.
I thought I heard helicopters, but how could I know? The snow and overladen wood beams make the most awful groaning noises all the time, I hope the structure will last the Winter until this shit melts off. This all made me realize how much I really want to live, I can't just die out here in the cold like this, especially since I have to protect Ginger. She's being a total sweety, I think the dumb pooch actually enjoys getting all of my attention in this chilly cabin. She'd always get separation anxiety when I'd leave her alone. I had to bribe the neighbors to get them to stop calling the cops when she'd mournfully howl all day while I was at work. Now she has me all to herself, and I've probably spent at least 20 odd hours tugging a rope from her jaws in the past two weeks. I can't complain though, she's all I have now, and it's nice to sleep next to something warm in this frigid fucking icebox of a house. I swear she's trying to listen when I talk to her, I wonder if she understands even a word I say? It doesn't matter, I need to talk to someone to pass the time. This journal helps too, maybe I can sell this as a book after the fact? I'll definitely be a little bit famous, 'the guy who survived a snow in!' that'll be on several news cycles. Imagine what my clients will think!
Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 21 of snow in.
I've had to start rationing the food more, I don't know how long this thing will last. Ginger gets sullen sometimes from hunger, but she's still my happy, silly, shaggy friend. I paid a fortune for her, but I don't regret it. Just getting to pet her beautiful copper and white coat was worth it, what to speak of how special she is. This disaster has really forged a bond between us, it's more than pet and owner now. I swear she knows how I'm feeling all the time. When I get sad, she comes over and licks my face, when I'm happy, she brings the tugging rope. My lovely canine companion will never want for anything after this disaster, doggy manicures and treats all day until she can't even waddle out the doggy-door.
Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 30 of snow in.
I became despondent when it hit the first month. I'm so tired of warming up snow to drink with my body heat. When I realized I was still firmly stuck in here, I lost all hope. I drank what was left of my alcohol, and I did something I'm not proud of. Ginger's okay, but I don't think this is making it into the 'movie'. I don't think I'd let them make a movie about this, at least not without me suing them. If I survive, I just want to forget about everything that happened here. Maybe the snow will just melt one day, and I can just waltz out of here with Ginger and never tell a soul what happened.
Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 42 of snow in.
I really screwed the pooch here. I mean that, I've literally been fucking my dog. Her soft, blue eyes enchanted me, and her beautiful fur is so soft and warm in this cold place. Masturbation has been my only pleasure here, but Ginger's been taking notice, and when she started nuzzling at my crotch and licking off my seed, I couldn't find the will to stop her. When it kept happening, I started taking charge. I don't know if all dogs lack a gag reflex, but Ginger certainly doesn't have one. She parts her wet, welcoming jaws, and cozies up until her cold snout is nestled against my pelvis. I just hold her like that, stroking her shaggy neck as her tongue flops around downstairs. I was worried she'd bite me, but she's more tender and gentle than I ever could have imagined. I hate myself for saying this, but my dog loves the way I taste, and I practically have to pry her snout off my schlong after giving her a gooey 'treat'. I probably shouldn't write any of this down, but who the fuck cares anymore? I've realized the life I used to have was pointless worry. I just want things to be simple now. I just want Ginger. God, I still really want to get out of this alive, I do.
Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 54 of snow in.
I think Ginger is in heat or something. She's more frisky than usual. I feel dirty writing this down, but it's better than keeping it all inside, I guess. When I get up behind her, she just lies down, and moves her fluffy tail out of the way. I swear I've been a gentlemen with her, if she so much as whines or wriggles I stop, but I won't stop any other way. She may literally be a bitch, but I treat her like my shaggy princess. She's so warm, soft, and fluffy. She clenches at me, and I'm starting to really like the smell. It's not like being with a woman, a human woman, it's better. What a fucked up thing to say, but I've never been having this much sex before. I guess a vacation can really open up opportunities, huh?
Journal of Mike Lambert: Day 60 of snow in.
Still snowed in, still managing to split these rations, somehow. Being with that beautiful husky dog in every way has made me realize, this is who I am now. I'll put that on my fucking business card, I don't give a shit anymore, "Hi, my name is Mike, I fuck my dog! Wanna get financial advice?" Fucking genius, right? I didn't want to be gross, but fuck that, if you've read this far, you know what you're getting into. Ginger loves to be with me, she loves to feel my human prick knocking at her fluffy little cookie, looking to escape the cold. She'll suckle my prick until it looks like I've been in the bath too long afterwards. We've explored every inch of each other's body, I'm not afraid to use my tongue to make my girl happy anymore. My dog loves having her behind licked, it's like a 'go' button for a fun night. The way it usually starts is, she'll look up at me with this big, blue eyes of hers, and give me this long whine. I know this sounds crazy, but it's a special whine when she wants my dick. The first real trick I taught my dog, was teaching her how to ask for sex, I guess. She asks for it a lot. So once she gives me the eyes, the whine, I snuggle up close, and start petting her belly. Then, after about three or four minutes, she suddenly squirms and wriggles, which lets me know to move my hand down to her special place. Dog's are different than human women downstairs, Ginger has this big, puffy clitoral hood, so you have to be gentle and careful with your touch there. Once she feels comfortable enough, she gets very vocal and calls out in that husky voice of hers as I stroke between her legs. That lets me know she's ready for the real stuff. We did doggy style at first, but I found out she really gets into it when I lay her down on her back on the couch. She likes to lick my face while I enter her,