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A Fertile Desert

"Hmm, nothing here."

The collie climbed through the broken window pane, taking care not to snag herself on the protruding shards of glass. Scavenging was getting harder, and even remote outposts like this weren't guaranteed to be fruitful. Picking her way through a scrubby patch of grass, she made her way back to the rocky dirt track that passed for a main road in this little town. Heat hung in a haze over the road, the blue-grey morning sky filled with a dusty ambience. The path wound ahead, and the collie could see it snaking up to the hills. She scanned her surroundings. This settlement was tiny, probably only a few dozen inhabitants at most even in its heyday. It comprised a jumble of low-rise houses - timber-fronted with roofs of tile or wood or corrugated iron. They stood, crooked and scattered, at varying distances from the main path. A good few miles from any sizeable settlement, probably a mining village back in the day, it looked all but abandoned. However, as experience had shown, first appearances could be deceiving. Luckily she was prepared, and armed, and if worst came to worst, she always had her four swift paws.

"Thought I caught a whiff of dog."

Shit.

There was a coyote sitting on a veranda to her left. The house was set further back from the path than its neighbours. An ambush spot. Yet the prairie wolf seemed in no mood to attack. He was leaning back in a wooden chair, a table next to him with a bottle of liquor atop. Oh, and he was fully naked.

Okay, no worries. She could talk her way through this one. She had done so several times before. Running though was definitely out of the question. That would invite him to give chase. Maybe he would simply let her pass? Some did.

She tried the friendly approach first.

"Howdy. This your town?"

The coyote made a show of glancing around, before turning to the collie with a shrug. "Ain't nobody else around. So I guess it's mine by default."

He kicked back in his chair, paws behind his head, smiling. Proud of his little lot, no doubt. His little empire of sand and rot. Though not everything about the coyote was little. She couldn't help but notice the coyote's sprawled legs. She tried not to glance at the canine's maleness, which he was doing nothing to hide.

"Alright then sir, well I mean you no trouble, so I'll bid you good day and be on my way."

"Now let's not be too hasty..."

The coyote got to his feet. He looked lean and powerfully built. If they came to blows, the collie didn't fancy her chances.

"What? Have I gotta pay a toll or something?"

The coyote shook his head.

"So..." Just say it. "What do you want from me?"

The coyote laughed. A mirthful, unhinged and dangerous yip. "Oh, it's you who wants something from me."

"What... what do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb. We're both canines, we're both smarter than that. And our sense of smell is keener than that."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, locking the collie with his bright yellow eyes.

"Heaty bitch. I seen you looking. And in case you're wondering, yeah, a coyote can breed with a dog. Has done, in fact, quite a few times now."

He stroked his sheath. She caught the motion, and noticed a slip of pink emerging.

"So when was your last time?"

"Like fuck I'm telling you that."

Scoff. "No need for that language. I was asking for your benefit. If you ain't lifted tail a whole lot, I could have gone easy on you. But if you won't tell me, I'll just take what I want."

He closed in. Bright yellow eyes never leaving the collie. Cocksure through and through.

Both dogs moved at once, the coyote pouncing, and the collie taking a can of pepper spray from her belt, which she discharged straight into the coyote's face. He still slammed her to the ground, but immediately he started thrashing, yowling, disorientated and blinded for the moment by the spray. He clawed towards her, landing a scratch or two, but she pushed him off and took flight, careering down the stony dirt track and out of the town. She didn't look back. She simply ran, up the slope and along the twisting path. She ran until she could no longer maintain the pace, and she dropped to a steady run, jumping rocks as she followed the undulating hill-top path, until a loose rock caused her ankle to twist and a twinge of pain to lance up her body. She stumbled to the ground, paws outstretched to break her fall, grazing her paw-pads in the process. Now on the floor, she stopped to catch her breath. She brushed most of the gravel from her paws, picked the rest out, then licked the lightly bleeding wounds. Pulling herself to her feet, she braced on a nearby cliff, fighting to regain her breath, heart pounding between her ears.

Okay. That should be enough distance between her and the coyote. Hopefully it was enough. Even a large and healthy coyote would need several minutes to recover from the spray. That shit was torture.

There was an animal to her side. Scurrying, skittering, scratching the ground. She sat up, trying not to roll her ankle too much. The animal was a weasel. White-furred, half her size... and seemingly losing his fur. Patches of it were missing from his body, exposing the flesh underneath. She sized him up. If this one tried anything stupid, she could probably take him, twisted ankle or no.

The weasel clambered onto a small rock, watching the injured collie.

"You alright?"

"Stay back!" she growled, jumping to her paws. The weasel stood on his hind legs, and raised his own paws.

"Whoa! Hey, hey, hey, I'm just trying to help. You don't look so good. What happened?"

The collie took some breaths. Trying not to appear too on edge. She re-assessed the animal before her. Scrawny, underfed, no froth on his maw but still unhinged. Probably wouldn't survive much longer himself. Yeah, he posed little threat.

"I... I got ambushed. There was a coyote..."

"In the town, right?" The weasel pointed a jittery claw back down the path. "Yeah, it's best to stay away from the town. Take it from a carnivore, you stay off that animal's territory. I've had my run-ins with him. He gave me this." The weasel pointed to his chest. Three wide claw-mark furrows were carved onto his chest.

"Looks like that hurt."

The mustelid gave a rapid nod, before wringing his paws and gazing at the desert sky. "Another injury to add to the collection, I guess. Fair to say this ain't the most comfortable of places to live."

"And I take it you can't just move to the city."

The weasel shook his head. "I... I'm kind of an outcast. If I went back, word would get around. I'd probably be in chains before sundown. The fuck... sorry ma'am... the heck I'm takin' that chance. Name's Mal, by the way."

"Jen."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms Jen. Um, hey, listen, my den's pretty close by. I can get you some bandages and stuff, maybe a top-up on your water."

It was worth a try, she reckoned. After all, it wasn't like she was teaming up with the weasel. Just take some water and be on her way. And just in case... Jen shook her can of pepper spray. About half left, by her estimation. More than enough. One squirt would probably knock the weasel out for a week.

They journeyed through the scrub, far over the rocks and hills, until they came to an isolated house. Half of the roof had caved in, and the rest of the building was all but condemned. Probably the best den that the little scrap could find. He was hardly built for hard graft and building-work.

The door hung on a single hinge. Mal opened it carefully, letting the collie inside. Inside was dingy, a few meagre possessions scattered about the place. A few doors led off the living space, and towards the back of the room was an open kitchen. Jen followed the weasel back there. He rummaged in a low cupboard, before hauling out a gallon of water in a plastic bottle. Grunting through his sharp teeth, he hauled it onto the kitchen top. He unscrewed the lid, cracking open the seal, and held out a paw.

"May I have your canteen, please?"

Jen frowned. "You sure you can even lift that thing? Here, let me."

Mal shrugged and stepped back, letting the collie decant the water. While Mal put the big bottle away, she sniffed the water - clean - and took a sip. As the water cleared her senses, her nose twitched. There was something about the scent of this place. Something dusty, something... familiar.

Mal was in another room, looking for bandages. Jen glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings. A battered guitar in the corner. A black-and-red bandana, draped over a broken wooden chair. And a large bone, too large for a weasel to chew. Jen wondered if she was panicking, if her mind was playing tricks. Yet some intuition, something about the sight and the smell of this place, seened wrong.

"Um... Mal?"

The weasel popped his head around the door-frame.

"Do you... live with someone else?"

A gleeful, manic grin rippled across the weasel's maw. Then, Jen realised what she had scented... or rather, whom. At once she grabbed her canteen, turned tail, and fled for the front door, only to run straight into an all-too-familiar coyote. She reached for her belt... but found nothing there.

"Looking for something?"

She turned to face the weasel, who chuckled and held up her pepper spray. Oh fuck, they were in cahoots! But before she could react, her feet were swept from beneath her, and she hit the ground hard, breaking her fall with paws, thankfully, before skull could hit timber. But the coyote was upon her in an instant, hot ragged breaths streaming from his muzzle. A big animal. A strong animal. She struggled, writhing on her back, pushing at him with paws, but try as she may, she couldn't shift him. Suddenly a paw closed around her throat, and she gulped, and went quite still. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were wide.

"Let me guess. You thought we were done back there. Not yet we aren't."

She renewed her efforts, adding a little claw this time, but the coyote crushed her throat, that strong paw gripping tighter until the blood pressure started to rise behind her eyes. The instant she relented, he stopped.

"You're learning fast. What can I say? Negative reinforcement, it's simple and effective. You disobey, I put you back in line. Any dog understands that. Especially a smart dog like a collie."

She stared up at him, maddened, but motionless.

"Now, before we start, I just want to say, that spray of yours is excruciating. Ugh, I can still taste it!"

The coyote coughed, his eyes watering and his tongue hanging loose. Jen wondered how much of that was for effect.

"Nasty little trick that was, real nasty. And I do admire your guts. But without any tricks, there ain't no doubt who's the stronger animal. So if you try anything stupid, you may not live to regret it."

The coyote rose to his feet and prowled around the collie. She rolled to her side, glaring at the male.

"How... how'd you find us?"

"I knew which way you'd run. You only had two choices really, and I could tell which one you chose, even if I was half-blind at the time. Then my friend Mal here kindly left a clue where you'd gone."

Jen muttered through bared teeth. "The scratching..."

"To be fair, most of his scratching is compulsion. But he can focus. Especially when there's something he wants."

"Wha... what do you mean?"

"Don't play coy. You know how this ends."

"Yeah. With a mob stoning you to death, cracking your skull, one hard little stone at a time. I hear it's a real painful way to die."

The coyote chuckled. "Does it make you feel better, thinking of me in pain? Do you think it fazes me? Do you think it changes your situation?"

Jen glared at him.

"Listen, Kibbles. I've been huntin' on these sands a long time. And that house back there, that weren't my home. Or maybe it was? Or maybe I'll move in come fall, and move out come winter? Mal and I, see, we tend to roam around. Doesn't make sense to stay in one place. Not when there's quite a few bitches who'd like to find me. And not just so the puppies can say hi to their Dad."

"P...puppies?"

"I told you, don't play coy. You'll have realised there's a lot of similarities between coyotes and dogs. You might even know that we're fully compatible with each other. Did you know that?"

"Yes."

"So there's more at play than my own satisfaction. Besides, most end up liking it, even just a tiny bit. And even if they don't, it doesn't bother me. At least I'm giving you some healthy pups. Better than the wretched inbred little things you pampered city-pooches whelp out. Why do you inbreed, anyway? What use is a pup with a head too small for his brain? Who'll suffer from migraines his whole life, as all that soft delicate brain matter squeezes against his skull? I tell you, those poor things are only good for eating."

She stared into those gleaming yellow eyes.

"And yep, I eat puppies. Sometimes while they're still alive. But which do you think is better: a few seconds of pain while I kill 'em quick, or a lifetime of pain from growing up deformed?"

"Fuck you, that's disgusting. Everything about that is disgusting."

"And yet you believe it."

She did.

"And tough though it is, city pooch, that's how nature works. We animals are put on this planet for one reason, and that's to further our species. And a weak, sickly puppy, well, he's just letting our species down. Really, it's a mercy killing."

"Shut up! For the sake of dogs everywhere, shut up!"

"'Dogs everywhere'? Ha, I get it. You think we're successful now, so we don't need to aim for the best. That's complacency. The world is always changing, even now, and we must evolve with it. And how do dogs evolve? We fuck. The fittest, and strongest, and biggest dogs copulate, and pass on their strengths to the next generation."

The coyote took a side stance. Showing off.

"Because not all dogs are equal. And even now, you can see what I mean."

She could. The coyote was huge. Bigger than her forearm. Beneath that swollen, engorged dog flesh hung two heavy dog balls, separated by a thick bush of darker fur. And those balls were glowing, crimson red beneath his scrotal fur, full of life and full of threat.

"So, Kibbles, how we doing this? One last futile act of heroism, or you just hike that tail and give me yer cunt?"

"I'll give you 'cunt'."

She pounced, and the spray hit her eyes. What followed was the longest quarter-second of Jen's life, between her brain registering what was happening, and the burn rising. And how it rose. Tears filled the collie's eyes, while the spray scalded her mouth and throat and nose, and all she could do was howl, and screw her eyes tight, and paw at her own face. So she never saw the coyote close the distance, and she only remembered her predicament when he closed his paw back on her throat, forcing her down onto a threadbare rug at their feet. The paw tightened, and she choked some air down to her burning lungs. She tried to twist free, she tried to pull the paw from her throat, but with the coyote's weight pinning her from behind, there was little she could do. Still she fought, especially when his other forepaw slipped to her crotch. She tried to shake him free, pressing herself up into the male's paw in the process. A well-placed thumb over her clit, a sudden jolt of pleasure, and the collie froze. All the time the male needed. He made short work of her belt, and with the collie still choked and half-blinded, he exposed her, just enough. She reached to pull her trousers back up, but the coyote grabbed her paw and twisted it sharply, making her whine and bear teeth.

"Well, I can't speak for you, but I am really looking forward to this."

The coyote's maw was wide, grinning, his voice dripping like syrup. Another part of him dripped too, onto the exposed fur of her rear, and down onto her vulnerable feminine flesh. She knew what came next. The coyote was hot, hard... and when she felt him press, into her mound, it didn't disgust her anywhere near as much as she hoped.

He thrust into her, and she screamed. She tried to move, tried to will her paws to press against the rug, to claw at his arms, anything, but the only thing her mind registered was that coyote cock, splitting her open, rapidly overriding the sharp sting of her pepper spray. She tried to squeeze down, to force the invading coyote from within her, but only succeeded in gaining a pleasured murr from the male, a tighter grip around her body, and that coyote cock drilling deeper.

"Why all the fight? You're hardly a virgin. You know how good this will feel."

He was right. However, in her handful of previous encounters, there was always some tenderness between her and her mate. None of that pretence with this coyote. He lived like a wild animal and fucked like one, snarling and slavering and humping. And by the Dog Star did it feel good. Wait... no! You can't enjoy this! She tried to reason with herself, to tell herself not to give into this big... gloriously hung and throbbing canid. But the primal part of her brain didn't care. He took, he raped ('get out of here girl, he's raping you!'), but he also promised to give back. Never mind that the thing he promised to give back would change her life forever. Her primal mind just wanted its reward. And right now, the most satisfying reward was fullness, deep satisfying liquid fullness, first from this coyote and his fff... fuckin' cock, and later from the thought of her belly swelling. This coyote would change her, and despite the terror of that change, all the chemical feedback to her brain told her that this was right, this was a bitch's life.

The coyote humped, ragged and feral. He bit on her shoulder, hard, painful, biting until he broke skin and drew blood, which he lapped like fresh spring water. His banter, his sheen of civility, all of it was gone. Now he was an animal, untamed and lethal, taking what he pleased from her. And to add insult to injury, she had an audience.

"Mmm, I do love watching Yot claim a bitch," the weasel sniggered.

"Oh fuck off, weasel"

The weasel cackled. "Make me."

He sat directly in front of her, just out of snapping distance, pawing a thin but lengthy cock, his weasel-balls sagging to the rug in a low coarse-furred sac. She glared towards the weasel, a blurry off-white shadow in her vision, and she growled.

"I swear, if you put that filthy little weasel-prick in me..."

"Hm?" Mal sprang forward and grabbed her snarling muzzle, a paw on each cheek, ripping at least one whisker from her face. "Nah, watching's good enough for me. Besides, you wouldn't even feel me once a yotie's good an' finished with ya."

Considering the sheer amount of canine cock stretching her wide, she did not doubt this. Moreover, the thought of this mongrel breeding her, making her belly swell with pups, did not repulse her as much as she expected. Or maybe hoped.

A trickle of drool landed on her head. The weasel slunk to a safe distance, leaving the collie to the mercy of this drooling fucking coyote! He was getting close, he had to be. His thrusts, though fast, were short and disturbingly regular. Practised. Like he knew exactly how deep to thrust, which way to grind his cock, to drive himself to orgasm.

But he hasn't knotted you yet. Still time to fight...

She tried to muster the resistance. Tried to find purchase on the coarse rug with paw and claw. But the roughness of the rut had left her exhausted, and nothing she could do could stave off the pleasure which every one of the coyote's fearsome thrusts was sparking, deep within her. Even worse, that pleasure was rising. Damn her cunt. Damn it for responding to this rape. But damn did it feel good, so fuckin' good... she closed her eyes, bore her teeth, quivering underneath this thrusting coyote who fucked her just so fuckin' well and with barely any warning the pleasure crashed all over her and she shivered and came with a wavering howl, and the coyote took full advantage of the turmoil of her squirting rippling sex by lodging his huge knot deep inside. The collie, cumming all around his cock, howled even more sharply as her body welcomed more canine flesh than she ever thought would fit in there. Neither her fingers nor the boys she used to play with came close to this wild male. Now he had to be close, surely: he was thrusting like a jackrabbit, stuck inside her, his rangy and powerful body tensing and tensing before...

A howl, a chilling coyote howl, high-pitched and utterly wild. He clutched her tight, tense, swelling even more, an unbelievably hung canine, before he surrendered and just bucked and bucked and bucked into the collie, firing shot after shot of hot and dangerous coyote semen to fill his bitch, to coat her inner walls and begin the race towards those fertile and receptive prizes within. The muscles of her sex gripped tight behind that thick, twitching coyote knot, locking him in place, and more importantly, locking every drop of his fully compatible canid cum deep inside her. He relaxed atop her, deed done, and the two post-coital canines sighed together. That was it. There was no way she could stop him now.

The coyote kept her tied for a good half an hour, giving his sperm a head-start on that race. She could picture them all, billions of them, slick and swimming inside her belly. And with a dog this athletic, they had to be healthy.

Years ago in the city, before the Twilight, Jen used to hear coyotes howling. They always sounded so wild, healthy, maybe even better than the tame dogs in the city. She wondered what it would be like to run with them. And yes, a few times in her teenage years, she had teased and stroked herself while they howled in the distance. She imagined how it would feel being mounted by one - how different he would feel to the lazy, flabby male dogs around her. And who knows, maybe under different circumstances, she might have welcomed this coyote, this fucking filthy but admittedly very virile coyote, as a partner. True, he was rangy, and he could have done with a dust-bath and a groom. But, there was something unapologetic about him. Something unburdened. Like he was living a free life, a happy life, and sharing that life with others.

The coyote yanked his knot free, making the collie scream and cutting off her reverie. The pepper spray had started to wear off during the tie, and before she could wheel around and claw his face, he grabbed her by the neck, with the waist of her pants still around her knees. The coyote dragged her to the door while calling to the weasel.

"Mal, get her some water. Oh, and a bit of food. Mama collie's gonna be eating for seven."

He kicked open the front door, and dropped the collie onto the porch.

"Well, that was real fun, but it's time we went our separate ways. If you head in that direction," he stated, pointing to some rusty-coloured rocks on the horizon, "you'll reach a dry river-bed. Turn right and keep walking, and you'll reach a little trading outpost. Tell 'em you've been throwing up in the mornings - they'll let you in. If you leave now, you should get there before sundown, or a little after."

"Wait, that's it? You're letting me go free?"

The coyote tilted his head. "Why would I keep you around?"

Realisation played out on the coyote's face.

"Oh, in case you go Uma Thurman on me. Well, if you want to swing a sword around and learn karate, that's up to you. But I'd look at it this way: what's done is done. Think what'll be best for your puppies... sorry, I mean our puppies."

The collie said nothing, and just sorted out her clothes. The weasel joined them on the porch, carrying a small canvas pack. She snatched the pack from the mustelid and rummaged through the single pocket: water, pocket knife, some kind of dried meat, and not much else.

"I'm guessing I don't get my spray back."

The weasel scoffed. "No shit."

"Yeah, well, don't ask don't get."

The collie spat in front of the coyote's paws. The coyote just yipped another laugh.

"Dear me, she's getting moody already. Don't be teaching our puppies bad habits."

"Like you'll be there to teach them anything."

"Now you're catching on. You ain't nothing special, 'specially without your spray. You're just yet another bitch I've pumped full of wild canine semen. Then again, you've got a bit of fight to ya, so you may survive. Anyway, sun's swingin' west, so you'd better get moseying. Head to the trading post and try your luck. Stay safe, perrita."

The collie grabbed her meagre possessions, turned tail, and headed for the distant rocks. She never looked back, though she knew the coyote would be watching her, every step of the way, until she disappeared from sight. Alone with her thoughts, a wave of anger rose in her.

"Karate my bleeding cunt. I will NOT raise that bastard's whelps!"

Only... they'd be her whelps too. Could she really bear to... you know... do something to them?

With the hot sun overhead and a long walk ahead of her, she trudged through the desert, sighing, one paw resting on her womb.