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I hope you guys like it! Here are some adorable works that I recently cooked up earlier this week, and I've got many more on the way soon. Anyways, chase doesn't seem to want to go to the potty so since he knows he's alone in his room he decided to go right there, on the floor. Anyways, I created a cute little story for these images, so here you go, enjoy!!

**Rear-View Relief: Chase's Crawling Catastrophe**

Sunlight slanted into Chase's bedroom at the Lookout Tower, but the young German Shepherd pup ignored it, his brown-and-tan fur fluffed from play, brown eyes twinkling with tummy trouble. "Tummy's rumbling," he whispered, tail wagging under his green t-shirt. No time for the potty; the wooden floor called like a secret spot.

Jeans unzipped, blue denim pooled at his ankles; white briefs yanked low, freeing his sheath and low-hanging balls. Pink pawpads pressed into the cool wood (four toes curling shyly), Chase dropped to all fours, tail flagged high, rear presented to the empty room. "Here goes," he panted, looking back with wide eyes and a blushing muzzle, tongue lolling in anticipation.

A *pffft* of gas escaped, meaty whiff blooming—then the first plop. Warm, mushy feces coiled from his exposed anus in Bristol twists, dropping to the floor with a *splat* behind his dangling sheath. "O-Oh... yes!" Chase whimpered, hips rocking as more followed: hanging ropes breaking free, piling into a steaming heap that brushed his perineum and backsack. The relief tingled naughty, his flaccid penis twitching from the sheath, tip peeking red with a precum bead. Blush heated his fur, but his open-mouthed grin widened, savoring the earthy scent and cozy squish.

Looking back at the dark coils on light wood, stray flecks on his pawpads, Chase giggled through pants, tail thumping the bed leg. "Messy mission... but mine!"

Cleanup later: wipes for the hind, mop for the floor—no trace but the thrill. Pants hiked, he wagged triumphantly. Even police pups had private patrols underfoot.

Sunlight slanted into Chase's bedroom at the Lookout Tower, but the young German Shepherd pup ignored it, his brown-and-tan fur fluffed from play, brown eyes twinkling with tummy trouble. "Tummy's rumbling," he whispered, tail wagging under his green t-shirt. No time for the potty; the wooden floor called like a secret spot.

Jeans unzipped, blue denim pooled at his ankles; white briefs yanked low, freeing his sheath and low-hanging balls. Pink pawpads pressed into the cool wood (four toes curling shyly), Chase dropped to all fours, tail flagged high, rear presented to the empty room. "Here goes," he panted, looking back with wide eyes and a blushing muzzle, tongue lolling in anticipation.

A *pffft* of gas escaped, meaty whiff blooming—then the first plop. Warm, mushy feces coiled from his exposed anus in Bristol twists, dropping to the floor with a *splat* behind his dangling sheath. "O-Oh... yes!" Chase whimpered, hips rocking as more followed: hanging ropes breaking free, piling into a steaming heap that brushed his perineum and backsack. The relief tingled naughty, his flaccid penis twitching from the sheath, tip peeking red with a precum bead. Blush heated his fur, but his open-mouthed grin widened, savoring the earthy scent and cozy squish.

Looking back at the dark coils on light wood, stray flecks on his pawpads, Chase giggled through pants, tail thumping the bed leg. "Messy mission... but mine!"

Cleanup later: wipes for the hind, mop for the floor—no trace but the thrill. Pants hiked, he wagged triumphantly. Even police pups had private patrols underfoot.