Notes: Inspired by Winds-of-Dawn, who played feedback games with me. Oh, the PAIN. This is my vile retribution that I threatened her with. You better believe she deserves it. Also inspired by "Prison Break-Out", which Winds-of-Dawn seems to blame on Tricia.
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"What," asked Blair slowly, "the fuck is that?"

Jim, without opening his eyes, answered "It smells like a poodle to me."

"I know it's a fucking poodle," Blair answered. "I know a poodle when I see one. Dog with stupid haircut: poodle, nine times out of ten."

"I have my eyes closed," Jim said. "How was I supposed to know it had a stupid haircut?"

"Anyway, I wasn't talking about the poodle. Poodles are pretty low down on my weird shit-o-meter, even when they do show up in my bedroom at 2 am. I was talking about *that*."

Jim opened one eye and followed Blair's gaze to something that rated a 9.9 on his weird shit-o-meter. Then his weird shit-o-meter broke, and Jim felt obliged to open both eyes to fully appreciate...

Lee Brackett, damn near butt-naked, in a cock harness and ball gag, holding on to the poodle's leash and clutching...

A telegram.

"New delivery service?" Jim asked.

"Nnnggahh," said Brackett.

"Some sort of twisted game plan?"

"Hhhhhghhhnn nnnah."

"He sounds like you when you're giving head, Chief," Jim said.

"I'm not nearly that coherent, you imbecile. Do you think *he* wants
to give head?"

"I wouldn't trust him not to bite. Besides, if he wanted to give head,
would he have put that ball gag in his mouth?"

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhni hnnnnninn!"

"*I* wouldn't give head with a ball gag in *my* mouth," Blair said, considering
the escaped prisoner with a skeptical eye.

"You know," Jim said, "your hands *are* free. It's not like you couldn't
take it out."

"HHHIIII!!"

"Don't even lie. I tried one of those on not too long ago, and believe
me, you can take it off yourself," added Blair.

Jim turned to his boyfriend. "You tried one of those on?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Why?"

"Wait for your birthday."

"Oh."

Blair hopped out of bed, nimbly avoiding the poodle (which he noticed
was wearing a leather corset-like apparatus around its shaved middle)
and circled Brackett warily. "He's got a butt plug in, too, Jim."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

And then Blair saw it. "Oh, God. Jim, you are not gonna believe this."

"What?"

"He's been playing with Alex Barnes."

"What?" Jim climbed out of bed and went to stand by Blair. "Well, I'll
be damned."

An eye and the initials "A.B." were neatly tattooed on Brackett's left
butt cheek.

"What'd she do," Blair said, "get tired of playing?"

"MmmhhhhniiiiiI!!!!!" Brackett waved the telegram in the air.

"Oh, for pity's--" Jim grabbed the small yellow piece of paper and opened
it.

JIM TAKE CARE OF HIM STOP BACK IN TWO DAYS STOP ARENT GUIDES GREAT STOP
GLAD I FOUND ONE OF MY OWN STOP LOVE ALEX

"He's a guide?" Blair said. "Not a very *good* one, I bet."

"HMMAAHH GNNAHH GNNNN!"

"No, you're not a great guide, Brackett. If you were a great guide,
you wouldn't be standing there looking like a main course."

"Hhhhi hiiiiihn nnnhii hnnn--"

"Oh, for pity's--" Jim unfastened the gag.

Brackett worked his jaw back and forth. "She said I had to please you.
And she told me not to take that off."

Jim and Blair looked at each other, and then at Brackett, and then at
each other again. Then Jim went for his gun and Blair went for Jim's
cuffs, and in a minute Brackett was handcuffed to the railing and Blair
was calling Simon.

"Damn," said Brackett, "how did you know we were trying to trap you?"

"Game theory," Jim said.

"Don't lie," said Blair. "You know perfectly well why, Brackett. Why
else would you have a hard-on the size of Texas?"

"Texas?" asked Jim, affronted.

"Yours," Blair said, "is at least the size of Siberia, so don't whine."

"Arf," said the poodle.

----

The End.