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"Did you know all Buddhists are celibate?" Jasmine grinned at her bevy of friends.

"What, really?" Melissa gasped, cocking her head.

Tiffany shook her head. "Isn't that priests?"

Jasmine shook her head. "That's why they're dying out," the four-legged Rottweiler explained with a sly grin toward her roommate, who'd just walked in to grab something from the fridge. It was a small apartment, but it cost way less than the dorms at college. Jampa wasn't a college student - he worked in construction, putting his huge, anthro body to good work. A Tibetan Mastiff was one of the largest four-leggers. Jampa, on two legs, was simply enormous.

All four girls stared over at Jampa, the only Buddhist in the room.

Ear flicking, he said, "That's not true."

Jasmine feigned ignorance, even though he knew for a fact she was lying. She may be the only four-legger in the room, and usually that meant she'd be the quietest one, but Jasmine wasn't like the other four-leggers Jampa had met. She knew how to take charge, how to be the life of the party. And a pert mouth went pretty far when you didn't have hands. "Oh, so it's just you that's celibate."

The other girls laughed nervously, following her lead. Still, the Husky, pom, and Basset Hound were intimidated by the enormous male that always spent most of his time in his room. Grabbing the milk, Jampa drank straight from the carton, finishing the rest of it before wiping his mouth. "I'm not celibate..."

"Coulda fooled me," Jasmine taunted, hopping up on the couch to get a better view.

Crumpling up the milk carton, he tossed it in the garbage. He had to do all of the chores, since his roommate had no hands. She paid a little more rent, though. Still, he was starting to regret letting her on the lease. At least she could dress herself - he knew some ferals that still had someone dress them each morning. "I just don't have a girlfriend right now."

Tiffany, the Pomeranian, was jockeying for second position in Jasmine's clique. He'd noticed the Rottweiler always said a few mean things about the fluffy bitch to keep her in line. Now, Tiffany said, "Right now - or ever?"

Jampa flattened his ears. It was true he was a virgin, but he didn't let it bother him. At least, he never used to let it bother him. "Haven't met the right woman."

Melissa laughed. "And here I assumed you were gay."

Jasmine had to regain control of the conversation. "You're not likely to, staying in that room all day. There's three pretty girls - and Tiffany's not bad either - right here."

Internally he thought, Not the right women. He wouldn't want to date anyone who could tolerate Jasmine. Even if Melissa was pretty cute. Tiffany, too - he couldn't understand why she hung out with the Rottweiler. If any of the four girls stood out as less desirable it was Xochitl, the Basset Hound. Or Jasmine - she was pretty, for a dog. No, no, stop that, he thought to himself. He couldn't slur all four-leggers just because Jasmine was a bitch. "No thanks."

And like that, he was gone, leaving the four girls for the safety of his room.

Just a typical night. Jasmine made fun of his sex life, his meekness, his pacifism, his foreign accent, his size, his fluffy fur, how he cleaned the dishes, how he laundered clothes, his dead-end job in construction, his incense candles, his closet shrine, his off-brand shoes, his motor-scooter, his tendency to read, his cooking (when she was desperate enough to try some of the vegetables he made). She even made fun of his favorite hobby - video games. She'd gone out of her way after meeting him to learn how to play Call of Duty with a feral mouse and keypad, quickly overtaking his own ability for one more way to disparage him. She didn't even have hands and she was fragging him left and right.

She must really hate him. Why did she stick around? He suspected the Rottweiler wanted to be cruel. That's how she controlled her friends, and it was how she controlled him, too. Despite his level best, he found himself avoiding the bitch as much as possible, coming home later and later in the day - especially when she was in heat.

She made no effort to hide it. No scent pads, no frequent showers, no quarantining to her room. She only did those things when she was going out. No, instead she taunted him, pointing out how limp-dicked he was, bragging that this was the closest he'd ever come to getting laid. He guessed she'd literally slid her bare pussy across his pleather couch one heat, so now he never sat in it anymore. She tested his every last nerve, and through prayer and meditation, he'd withstood every trial.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Why hadn't he gotten her a 6 month lease instead of a year? He was only seven months into his twelve-month sentence. Her second heat was just starting, but at least it was likely to be her last before the end of the lease. She'd be leaving - or he would, and she could keep the damn couch. Deep breaths, he thought to himself, fiddling with the key.

No deep breaths! he added, as the door opened and a waft of canine heat hit his nose. As a two-legger, his nose wasn't as strong as hers, but even he couldn't ignore the strange mix of booze and estrus that flowed through the room. The massive Mastiff debated just finding a hotel room for the night, but he stepped inside, forced to relax his clenched fists. Jasmine, of course, was on the couch, sprawled out wearing only a t-shirt and baggy shorts that did nothing to contain her scent.

"Welcoming back, big guy. Jampa - long day - wanna few rounds over CoD?" It was immediately evident where the scent of alcohol was coming from by her slurred speech. He'd tried beating her while she was drunk, but somehow her reaction times stayed almost the same.

"No thanks. I just want to sleep," he said honestly.

Jasmine laughed. "Shocking. Well, don't stop you let me."

Ears flat, Jampa brushed past the alpha female, feeling more than a little emasculated. He'd need to meditate again tonight. He opened the door to his room and froze. Then he stormed inside, sniffing. His whole room was blanketed in her heat. He took a while to find the source, and when he did he nearly punched a pillow. She'd gone into his room while he was out and -

He stormed out to confront the grinning Rottweiler. "You went into my room? You went into my closet?"

She just shrugged. "I think you your candle was ongoing and you was burn us all down, but I handle it."

Unlikely, and that didn't explain the scent. "You peed on my shrine," he growled.

She blinked. "Well how selse was I posed to put it out? Don't like I have hands - stupid."

"You have a mouth! I just wanted to pray and go to bed, and now my whole room smells like your fucking pussy, and you desecrated my shrine. I want you out. Now."

"Your gonna pay me five rents on your slaramy? Fat chance, Mitser Constructure. I are not goin' anywhere," she stammered, standing up on the edge of the couch, her fur bristling. She looked pretty impressive, a hundred-and-ten pounds of pure muscle, with a jaw to back it up. He'd rarely seen her try to back up her taunts with force, and at first he shirked away from her. But then he remembered his shrine and the yellow musk that coated his Buddha statue.

"No. No. This time you've gone too far, bitch."

Her eyes widened, but not with fear. She looked almost impressed. She barked, "Finally tryin'a bare your teef, Wampa?" She liked to refer to the large, stupid cave monster in Star Wars, when she wasn't calling him a wookie. "You don't has the balls. Mebbe literally."

Jampa stepped forward toward her on the couch. "Oh, I have balls."

"Coulda fooled me," she laughed. "You ain't certain you ever used 'em."

He snarled and snapped his muzzle shut loudly, a few feet from her, his own hackles raised. She was a formidable size, and had the muscles to back it up, but he was over three-hundred pounds. The most dangerous thing about her were her teeth, which she flashed in response, saying, "Go on - try it."

His inner monologue was missing. He always talked himself down. But not this time. No voice stopped him, no moral compass. There was just hatred. He charged.

She was legitimately surprised this time, but she reacted quickly, jumping to the side and flashing her teeth to bite his arm. It hurt, but he was still moving forward, reaching up with the other hand to grab her by the collar. Ferals usually wore a collar with a few pockets to carry stuff, which made it easy to wrench her head back, putting enough pressure on her throat that she released her grip. Blood darkened his black fur. He picked her up by the neck, growling while she kicked her four legs, scratching and pushing at him. Snarling, he threw her away from him, nearly sending her into the wall. She landed a few feet shy and slid the rest of the way, jumping to her feet.

"Such a pafisisk," she growled. "Hittin' a girl." Her stub tail stood up, dominantly, eyes flashing.

"Not a girl - a bitch," he spat.

But she was already charging him again, jumping onto the end of the couch as she leapt toward his face. She didn't seem to be willing to give up her status so easily. But now Jampa was angry with himself for being drawn into this. He directed it outward, glaring at the Rottweiler as she leapt onto the couch. Reaching down, the Mastiff lifted his end of the couch straight into the air, cutting her leap short as she bounced off. He tossed the whole piece of furniture her way, and she yelped - barely darting out of the way.

She was already running for his legs, and with four of her own, she was faster than he expected. Frantic, he lashed out just as her teeth were opening for his ankle, punching the drunk Rottweiler in the temple and sending her rolling end over end into the T.V. stand. Glass shattered, but she clambered back to her feet. This time, she paused, resorting to words. "You detter dack bown! I mess you up, and the police they still blame you."

"I. Don't. Care."

She hesitated for the first time he'd ever seen. But she wasn't about to let what she thought was a gentle giant get the better of her. "You comed for the queen, your viable to loose your head." With that, she charged again, anticipating his punch and darting under to bite him on the thigh. His eyes went to slits, the pain shrieking through his body. Reaching down, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her straight into the air like a suplex, twisting her head enough that she had to let go. Blood spilled down his leg, but at least he was in less pain. He dropped her, head first, into the tile floor with a satisfying crack. Before she could get up, he reached down to grab her collar in one hand, holding her out at arm's length so that her kicks couldn't reach him.

He snarled, "You seem to be under the impression that you matter. You're a fucking dog and you ought to be treated like one."

She yelped as he directed her around by the neck, walking over to the kitchen cabinet. There were a variety of supplies in there, but the one he needed was a muzzle. He hadn't needed one since his last dog died, but he still had one. Jasmine's eyes widened as he took the leather device and moved it toward her head. She squirmed away, saying, "Hey! Stop!" But he didn't, lifting her head with his thumb so that he could work the prison around her mouth. With one hand he fastened it tight.

She whined and squealed, and twisted her head, her claws wholly ineffective against the huge Mastiff. Jampa growled at her, "Your pretend 'alpha' status ends now, bitch." He sniffed the air, remembering her heat. With a vicious grin, he said, "You want proof I've got balls? I'll show you." He dragged the muzzled Rottweiler into his room and tossed her whole body backwards onto the bed. She bounced and hit the wall with the loud thwack. While she was getting her bearings, Jampa undid his pants and ripped off his t-shirt, revealing his fluffy, but incredibly muscular body. Despite his long fur, anyone could have seen his large dog cock and enormous, dangling balls. He wasn't gay, he wasn't celibate, but he was a virgin, and he was more than a decade backed up.

Unable to talk or taunt, Jasmine realized she was in a tough position. He was three times bigger than her, the door was locked, she had no hands, and her only real weapon was pinned shut by a muzzle! Her eyes widened and she whined as the Tibetan Mastiff stepped toward her, his massive genitals swaying beneath him. She cowered before him, and if she could talk, he knew she'd be begging for mercy.

One sniff of her musky scent all through his room and all over his statue kept the mercy at bay. She fell back on running, trying to dart away, but he was too quick, grabbing her collar and yanking her so hard she lost her footing again, landing with a loud whimper on her back. Kneeling on the bed beneath her, he grabbed her thin legs in each hand like they were twigs, and just as easy to snap. She yelped as he lifted her rump first into the air, her weight mostly resting on her neck. She stared up her clothed body into the face of the unrecognizable Buddhist. His face was twisted into a violent snarl, but his next move was surprisingly gentle. Holding both her hind paws up to his face, he tore away her baggy shorts, revealing her fat, swollen spade. Deep in her heat, for sure, he took a sniff, his cold nose causing her to squeeze together, but his warm tongue pushing her apart.

"Aaaah!" she groaned, as the three-hundred-pound specimen guzzled her bare, trembling pussy. She couldn't move, helpless in his arms as he ate her out, reveling in the first big cunt he'd had the pleasure to taste. The flavor matched the scent, musky and acrid, but surprisingly pleasant. His dick stirred, quickly emerging from his swinging sheath, bright red lipstick pointing up at an angle, as if directing him straight to the helpless bitch.

She kicked her legs uselessly in the air, squirming on her back, but the feral Rottweiler couldn't bring any of her really powerful muscles to bear. She stared up at the Mastiff with wide eyes as he ate her out, noisily slurping the stiff, black mound swollen out from a sea of caramel. Gritting her teeth in the muzzle, she growled as long as she could before the huge tongue warping and probing her cunt managed to find her clit. Beside herself, the once-dominant college student yipped and yelped, too much sensation at once engulfing her little nub. She wasn't a virgin by any means, but she'd never been man-handled like this, either. "Aaaah! Nnnngh!" she groaned.

Jampa wasn't in a rush, taking the time to really get a sense of her bloated pussy - her depth, the features of her anatomy that he'd never been able to experience up close. She seemed awfully tight considering what he knew about his own cock. Glancing below, he confirmed that his dick was two-inches wide at the tip, and that was with a flaccid knot. He swelled out to nearly three inches by the middle of his shaft, but Jasmine's inner tunnel was thinner. Her odor egged him on, though, and she'd already inundated his bedroom with her siren's scent. He wasn't really going to rape her, was he? Maybe just a threat? But the pain in his arm and leg were a constant reminder of just how awful this bitch was.

He flopped her back down to the bed, quickly unfastening his work pants. But not quickly enough. She tried to squirm away, and when he dropped his trousers, she kicked and struck him right in the balls. They were a big target, after all. That bought her all the time she needed to climb back to her feet on the squishy bed, while Jampa roared in pain. He bit his lip so hard he added another wound to the list, but he managed to focus his eyes on Jasmine right before she was ready to jump for the bedroom door. It may be closed, but it had a quick release near the floor for ferals.

He snatched her right out of the air, ignoring his aching testicles. He wrapped his powerful arms around the hundred-pound bitch's back, lifting her with a straining groan. She kicked and flailed but he was behind her. He felt pretty safe until she swung her head straight back and smashed him on the chin. "Enough!" he yelled. Spinning her around to face him, he leapt back onto the bed with her beneath him, using his three-hundred pounds to squish her down into the mattress. She kicked and fought, but his huge body had pinned her front legs to her chest and her hinds to his belly. With no room to move her limbs, they couldn't inflict any real damage. Didn't stop her from pushing up with all four feet and digging her dull claws into him.

She was pretty strong - when he lifted his upper body to take stock, she immediately planted both paws on his chest and tried to push him away, pinpoints of pain only making him angrier. Incensed, the Tibetan Mastiff reached his own arms down to grab her powerful, black-and-tan neck and squeeze. Now she looked worried, her coughing, hacking attempts to speak cut off by her compressed windpipe and the muzzle as well. She jabbed him again and again with her front paws, but he just ignored the pain, drooling as he choked her. "You motherfucker!" he growled. "You deserve this, bitch!" He wasn't even sure what he was saying as he cut off Jasmine's air. She didn't deserve to die, but he wanted her to stop - to stop biting and kicking, to stop hurting him, to stop taunting him and violating his stuff.

He weakened his grasp, letting her manage a few painful wheezes, when he felt it. His dick was half-hard already from eating her out, and with her pinned beneath him, he realized he was just inches away from where her bloated spade leaked against his belly. Hurting her was a bridge too far - but showing her just how virile he actually was? She'd been asking for this since she moved in. Keeping his hands controllingly around her neck, he stopped squeezing, but repositioned himself, his nine-inch cock requiring a bit of adjustment. He found it easily enough, smearing his glistening tip against her black pussy. She shook her head back and forth, growling. But he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer after what she'd done. "Too late now, you drunk slut. Now you get to see first hand why it's hard for me to keep a girlfriend!"

Eyes wide, Jasmine stared down her belly as Jampa lifted himself up to aim his bony tip correctly. He was truly enormous, bigger than she'd even expected. She whined and tried to squirm away from him, but he was too damn heavy. She gulped and braced herself as the huge two-legger finally poked his way into a woman for the first time in his life, after many rejections. He was too big for Jasmine, too, but she'd lost her right to say no.

"Nnngraaaw!" she howled through the muzzle as he fed the first four inches into her rapidly expanding spade. His tip battered her inner entrance, pointing the way through, but he widened quickly, forcing him to put his whole weight into the thrust. Tip wedged its way into her vagina, wrenching her poor pussy apart as two and then three inches of girth split the Rottweiler down the middle. Squealing, she went back to poking his chest with her front paws, but that only tightened his grip on her neck. She didn't stop struggling, whining as he worked his way deeper and deeper into her unprotected pussy. She was too frantic to realize that if she just gave in, he'd be gentler, grimacing as he bruised her thick neck.

"So. Fucking. Tight," he growled through gritted teeth, stuck at the middle of his shaft. He got thinner just beyond there, but first he'd have to stretch her open a little farther. He took a deep breath, concentrating on the sheer bliss his compressed cock felt with her spasming cunt milking him. Just imagining how it would feel once his whole shaft was buried spurred his frenzied thrusts. If she was this tight even before his knot, he knew he'd likely never tie the hundred-pound bitch. Sliding one hand down her back, he grabbed her butt fur roughly in one hand and held her in place for his next thrust.

Squelch!

He powered through, jabbing through her tight tunnel until his fat cock was practically already tied inside her. Her tattered cunny finally relaxed around the slight tapering at the base of his cock, her lips teasing his growing knot. Now, her struggles dimmed, and he realized he'd been squeezing her neck a bit too hard. Letting go, she stirred again, gasping for air, but the fight had been all but knocked out of her. With his giant organ bulging inside her, she just rolled her head back and forth, whining and dazed, yelping with each of his growing humps.

So tight! She was working him over unlike anything his hand could do, wet and tight and in heat - everything he'd ever wanted. Her vulva had doubled in size as she fitted to his bulging cock, her panting whines increasing in pitch and frequency. She trembled and spread her hind legs - anything to ease the pressure on her loins as the enormous Mastiff had his way with her. Perhaps she'd bitten off more than she could chew this time.

Back and forth, back and forth, he was really doing it! She was so soft in his hands, so pliable, so helpless as he fucked her, enjoying her body even as he hated the sight of her cruel face. He didn't want to see her, even though her expression had changed to fear and obedience. He stared instead at her caramel colored chest, panting and drooling on her belly as he got closer and closer to finishing what she'd started.

Tingle.

His brain was tingling, reminding him that Jasmine was definitely in heat. He couldn't just ignore that! She was pinned down and helpless, his giant cock pointed straight at her fertile womb, with two baseball-sized balls cocked and loaded. He didn't have any condoms since he didn't have a girlfriend, and any that Jasmine had would almost certainly never fit the Tibetan Mastiff. With a grunt, he realized he'd better cum on her belly. Grabbing her chest, Jampa pulled back.

And nothing happened. She was squeezed tight around the base of his cock, her distended, greasy lips kissing his knot. But even without those glands helping out, he was stuck. His three-inch-wide shaft had plugged her tight cunt, and his tugs only yanked the whole Rottweiler back with him. "Hey, ease up, or..."

But she wasn't trying to. She shook her head wildly, whining. She wanted him out even more than he did. But she clinged to him, voluntarily or not, her insides stuffed to the brim with immense dog cock. Realizing his situation, he grabbed her harder around the midsection, pushing down on her chest while he pulled up with his hips. But she was latched on tight, gasping for air.

As if that weren't bad enough, the sheer sensation of her squeezing pussy on his massive dick had him even closer to just giving in to the beast inside him. She could always figure something out to stop the pups - that wasn't his problem. After four tries and four failures, he gritted his teeth, realizing he was in for the long haul. She was going to be his, no matter what either of them wanted.

"Nnngh! Ngggh!" she whined, clearly protesting the look of resignation on Jampa's face.

She kicked and squirmed, but that only made him harder, until he was actively pounding her again, panting next to her face. With a husky breath, he licked the side of her face through the muzzle and whispered in her ear, "This is what you get for marking my shrine, you fucking bitch." With that, he pumped in again, smacking his swollen knot against her trembling vulva, his tip grinding easily against her cervix as he finally less loose, not on her belly, but in it. His balls churned, throbbing up against her stub-tail so she could feel each and every heady gush of life-giving cum launching straight into her defenseless womb. He growled, then howled as he let loose, his two hands encircling her belly to feel her grow with each spurt. Her normally taut abdomen filled out quickly with his efforts, until her womb was sloshing and full, a noticeable curve to her once-svelte tummy. No more teasing him with her heat - he'd finally just grabbed her, fucked her, and bred her. Satisfied with rubbing her belly, he panted and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her into a full embrace. He nuzzled her, licking her neck fur, ignoring the muzzle that still adorned her face. She worked him to his limits, the first bitch to take his whole damn cock, knot notwithstanding. He always wondered if anyone would willingly bite that bullet - it seemed the answer was no.

She was shuddering and trembling in his grip, whining with every new spurt. Jasmine looked defeated, almost unconscious, the alcohol and lack of oxygen playing with her consciousness. But when she stared at her churning belly, she knew what had happened. She kicked and squirmed away, and this time, Jampa obliged her, his dick having shrunk enough now that he could rip himself from her loins without tearing the poor dog in two. He sat back, staring down at the belly bursting, pussy-gaping bitch that now trembled in his bed.

"You ready for the muzzle to come off?" he growled, his breath slowly returning.

The Rottweiler just nodded her head, lying in the damp sheets. Reaching behind her, Jampa unbuckled the muzzle and pulled it off her face.

"Your a fucking dick! I'm in on heat, you mofferfucker!" she barked, her expression changing immediately. Jasmine had been faking her submissiveness! She jumped to all fours, snarling at the big Mastiff.

"Shoulda thought of that before you sprayed my whole damn room!" he returned fire, his hackles raising.

"You coulda used to my ass - you've gotta got lube in here something. What if I got knocked me up?" she yipped, staring back at her swollen belly.

Jampa paused, finally reflecting on his actions. There was no way to justify it, really. She was awful, yes, but he'd beaten and raped a drunk girl. Taking a deep sigh, he -

"I'll kill you!" she snapped, leaping forward.

Adrenaline was still spiking through his body, and the typically slow to react big guy switched back over instantly upon seeing her bared, white teeth. He still stung from her two earlier bites, and he was not going to deal with that again! Forgetting any concessions he'd been about to make, he swung a hook right against the side of Jasmine's face, sending the smaller dog spinning into him, her rump smacking him on the same arm that had just struck her. She ducked and snapped again, but he pulled his hand back just in time to avoid a potentially crippling bite from her Rottweiler jaws. "You don't know when you're beat!" he growled, picking her up by the armpits just long enough to knee her in the stomach and smash her back onto the bed. She lay there, dazed, for more than enough time to allow Jampa to collect her again, this time scruffing her so hard her protests were cut off. She whined and kicked, but with her back to him, she couldn't do anything but dangle there from his one hand.

"You want to get fucked in the ass so badly, I can arrange that!" he growled, reaching over to his nightstand where he did, in fact, have a well-used bottle of lube. She stared at it with wide eyes, hacking and coughing. Flipping open the cap with one hand, the Buddhist squeezed some out onto his fingers, and without a second thought, brought his free hand down between Jasmine's legs.

She whined and kicked her legs harder, but he let her squirm. His two fingers were easily as wide as his cock, so two would do. The sloppy, viscous fluid gushed across her pucker for a few seconds before he pressed up and into her, her whines turning to whimpers. She was even tighter down there, and he highly doubted she'd ever degraded herself with a mate by allowing them access to this hole. Firm fingers spread her rectum apart, coating her quickly with jelly, a sure sign of what he intended to do to her. She steeled herself just long enough to jump upward, easing the tension on her throat enough to say, "St-stop!"

"No," he growled in her ear, and with that, he replaced his grip on her scruff, swapping out his hand for his teeth. He yanked her up only by the sharp points digging into her floppy skin, both hands sliding down to grab her hips. Her legs could kick all she wanted, but he had a tight grip on the part that matters. He lifted her rump up to the top of his erection, throbbing again. Her tail was no protection as he lowered her to his tapered tip. She couldn't speak, but she could yelp, the vertical villain staring down her creamy tan belly, bloated and then leaking, to see him entering a new, fresh hole.

His hands guided her down his shaft, pressing wetly into her hastily prepared tailhole while she just trembled, her heated spade still bouncing. This wasn't supposed to happen! The dumb bitch found herself on the receiving end of the violence she typically dished out in harsh words. Now she shrieked as the enormous Mastiff shoved his way into her virgin anus, her eyes wide. Jampa groaned, appreciating the tight tunnel and the smooth squelching that made this even easier than raping her the first time. He rubbed her hips with his hands, spreading her legs for more access deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until she was panting and ragged.

His upward thrusts reamed the poor girl, but they also relieved the stress on her throat. He humped up into her, her taut abdomen stretched wide in every direction, and Jasmine managed to gasp, "Y-you won't - ged away - wid dis!"

He shut her up quickly enough by sliding one hand around her to cup her gushing spade, still coated in his life-giving seed. He'd already likely left her with mutts to remember him by, so whether he got away with it or not, she wasn't getting away without getting her comeuppance. His fingers were still lubed up, but that wasn't necessary for jamming them up her well-used cunt, cutting off her words with a loud, squealing moan. He spread her apart with his digits even as he stuffed her rectum, putting warm, intense pressure on her entire undercarriage. Jasmine, overwhelmed, just stuck out her tongue and quivered, moaning wordlessly.

With the reach around, he made the drunk bitch start to hump wildly, squeezing down around his cock and his fingers at the same time, never minding the damage to her scruff in the big Mastiff's teeth. This was plenty enough for the former virgin, the not-so-gentle giant still not managing to knot the small slut. His shaft firmly split her ass apart, but she still rested neatly on his glistening bulge, denying him full completion. Letting go of her scruff, he wrapped ar arm around her chest and held her down on his erupting cock, splattering her anal depths as he grunted and moaned in time to her own desperate gasps of pleasure. As much as she might want to deny it, she was in heat and he was ramming his fingers against her clit. Jasmine was humping just as hard as he was.

The seeping semen sealed the new cracks in her newly deflowered tailhole, leaving a dull ache as she came, gushing around Jampa's fingers. His sticky cum spilled down his palm as the Rottweiler gasped and panted, until he grunted and tossed her face first onto the bed again.

She landed heavily on her head, her ass in the air, both holes leaking now onto his sheets.

Fuck, he thought, looking down at his dick. Still hard, his knot clamored for more. Like a whiny younger cousin, his bulbus glandis was demanding attention. Grabbing a nearby paper towel, he wiped off his slippery cock, squeezing tight around the base.

He stood there panting, Jasmine lying in a heap, catching her breath. After almost a minute of silence, the Rottweiler looked over her shoulder at Jampa and growled, "Fucker..."

Jampa's heart started beating again, not sure whether to expect a verbal or a physical assault from the angry bitch. "You want another lesson?" he growled, motioning down to his still-hard cock, swollen knot more than enough to leave Jasmine crippled for life.

Gritting her teeth, the college girl growled, "I'm need drinks."

That, at least, the Tibetan Mastiff could understand. After a short trip to the kitchen to acquire some hard liquor and glasses, Jampa found himself sitting in a chair at the edge of his bed, sharing a drink with the girl he'd just raped twice. While she lapped at a whiskey, Jampa tried his first alcohol, biting back the harshness of vodka. Jasmine was already pretty tipsy, obviously, but she could lie on her belly and lap up a refresh on the intoxication that had surely led to all of this.

"You're not going to tell, are you?" Jampa said softly, the adrenaline fading from his body as he regretted everything he'd done.

She glanced up at him, lapping up her medicine. "But you raped in me," she stuttered. "Can't don't ignorn dat! Not cool Jama..."

"You bit me. And desecrated my shrine," he growled, the old anger growing again. But he couldn't really make those things square with what he'd done, no matter how hard her tried. Though each drink he took seemed to get him a little closer.

Jasmine only had to look herself over, bruises on her face where he'd hit her, around her neck where he'd choked her, her legs aching from his heavy handling of her. She lifted a leg to show her soiled genitals, just beyond her bloated belly. She said, "Shee dat?"

Jampa could see. He quickly refilled her drink. Did she even notice? Hard to tell, as she just returned to lapping at the whiskey. Jasmine said, "You pursprised me. I din't never thought you had in it. You naughty knot me pregant. Wha I do do?"

He shook his head. "I never knotted you." It just felt like he did because his cock was so big for the black dog. "Besides - you baskilly came onto me."

"I din't," she protested, her eyelids starting to droop.

"You pumped your heat all over ry moon. My room. What was I sposed to do?" Jampa explained, though the connections in his brain were starting to fray.

"Bud I thott -" she started, cocking her head.

"You went in my bed first," he asserted. She was having trouble remembering! If he could just inception her a little bit, he might be able to keep himself out of jail. "You wanted it."

Taking another deep slurp of whiskey, Jasmine mumbled, "I's jus' teasing...you you -"

Jampa shook his head. "We fought, yeah, but you sped your legs from me. Don't chu 'member?" With that, the Tibetan Mastiff slid to his knees at the edge of the bed, letting Jasmine take one last drink from her strong glass before sliding it and the bottle to the floor. She looked down at him, woozy. "Like this..." he added, reaching over to her hind legs. She was lying with her front paws flat to the bed, but her back legs sideways, so it was easy for him to grab ahold of each back foot and swivel the Rottweiler bitch toward the edge of the bed. He pulled her until her big, fat spade, was dangling over the edge.

"J-Jama..."

"Can I lick you?" Which part would she remember? Saying no, or saying yes?

"O-okay."

Jampa hesitated when he spread her legs wide open again, staring at her gray spade, leaking wildly with his cum, and just below that, her cumstained tail. But if he was going to fix her memories, he had to. Taking a deep breath, the enormous Mastiff lowered his wide muzzle to Jasmine's gaping cunt and slurped, lacing his tongue with his own cum.

It wasn't so bad, and her heat spurred him on further, each lick spreading her farther and farther apart. Her legs quivered on either side of his head, her hips humping slightly. "So good," he groaned, his own mind as hazy as it had ever been after only two shots of vodka. He plunged into the moaning Rottweiler, hoping to change her memories.

"Ahh!" she whined. "Jama - we cand..."

"Why not?"

She put a paw on his nose, weakly pushing him away, too drunk now to put up any form of resistance. She panted, "Why not? I'm on season..."

"Y-you want me to knot you cause you're in heat?" Jampa asked, misinterpreting her.

"Not knot? Not me," she stammered.

"Knot you? If you really want," he said, standing up and licking his lips. Her eyes widened as the huge two-legger stood over her, his red cock dangling out of his sheath.

"Wade!" she barked.

"Wait?"

"Yes."

"I knew you'd say yes," Jampa exclaimed, climbing onto the bed with her. And though she was shaking her head, he didn't give her any time to compose herself. His hands went to her strong chest, easing her onto her side so that the Tibetan Mastiff was face to face with her, running his hand along her left flank. "I never thought, you and I -"

She was going to talk again, but Jampa leaned in and kissed Jasmine on the lips. She stiffened, then relaxed in his arms, her mouth opening pliantly as he slipped his tongue inside. Like that, they kissed for the first time, wet, forceful, and increasingly horny. The Rottweiler's body pressed up against him, her tail thumping against the bed, all the confusion dispelled by their deep, passionate kiss. If she would just remember this part of the evening, Jampa could explain that he was too drunk and they shouldn't have gotten carried away, and no one would have to know he'd started it all by charging a girl.

"You're so hot," Jampa groaned, starting to lean over her, his hand sliding down her back toward her rump.

"Jama..." she groaned, whining softly as he hand circled around to caress her swollen spade, freshly cleaned by his tongue. She was so wet and slippery, his fingers popped right into her, making the Rottie moan and spread her legs. "We done so should going..." she muttered, blitzed out of her mind.

"Let's do it," Jampa suggested - he'd already left a warm creampie in the girl's womb, but he wanted her to remember getting it willingly. He had to risk a second time with her, even though the first one might not have taken.

"No, no," she whined.

"Yes?"

"Huh? Yes?" Jasmine shivered.

Jampa slipped a hand down to his Mastiff cock, guiding it back to his housemate's fertile pussy. "Yes," he agreed, pushing the tip in.

And that's when she went limp, her tongue dangling out of her mouth onto the bed. She'd passed out! Jampa was panting. This was ideal - he could toss Jasmine back into her own room and pray that her memories were scattered enough that she just remembered saying 'yes', and forgot all the times she'd said no, or worse, the fighting, the fucking, the muzzle. She'd completely blacked out, breathing softly with her eyes closed.

He pulled away from her, letting her slump back down onto her side. But he didn't stand up. He paused there, taking another quick shot of vodka. It wasn't as bad as he first thought - the burn barely bothered him anymore. He'd been so prepared to fuck her one last time, to finally satisfy his bulging knot while covering up his huge mistakes. Now he didn't have to.

But that didn't mean he couldn't.

Taking a deep breath, Jampa placed a heavy paw on her side and rolled the unconscious Rottweiler onto her belly, her hind legs seated beneath her. He slid to the floor at the edge of the bed, once again nose to vulva with the college girl. There was no point in licking her this time - she couldn't feel it anyway. Instead, he climbed over her, his belly to her back, the huge two-legger dwarfing the small but fit canine powerhouse. She wouldn't fight back this time. Drooling as he covered her, he guided his tip one last tip to her no-longer quivering spade. She was fast asleep when he pushed the first inch of his fat tip into her bloated pussy, taking her doggy-style for the first time. She did tense up, but her whole body lay limp, letting Jampa take his time.

He ignored all the tingles in his brain this time - fucking an unconscious girl? Bareback while she's in heat? What was the issue, when he'd already held her down and raped her? She wouldn't even know! Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her scruff with both hands and pinned her to the bed, working himself deeper and wider, his prohibitively fat cock stretching her out again. This time she didn't whine or squeal, still passed out. His mouth went to scruff now, his paws reaching between her and the bed to clasp her swollen belly, roughly handling the short-furred bitch's teats. So tight and firm, she'd obviously never had a litter, but her luck was likely about to change.

He had to grunt and really push to get the widest part of hsi shaft into her gaping pussy, her tightness pulling him deeper. "Such a slut," he groaned, realizing he was all the way in - except his knot. How he wanted to knot her, but she could barely take his shaft alone. But he hadn't started to grow down there, and she wasn't about to say 'no'. With a bark, he hilted her, his balls pressed between her hind legs. "Oh fuuuuck," he moaned, his tip now pressed against, if not into, her quivering uterus. He could feel himself growing fast now, reaching back with one hand to moan as he inflated, which made Jasmine's pussy balloon outward into his grasp, tightening until he couldn't pull out if he wanted to. But he kept growing - if his balls were like baseballs, the twin glands at his base combined as a softball, stretching her near to bursting as he grew. Would she squeeze him tight enough to restrict his growth, or would his knot win, stretching her beyond her limits? Or would he leave her tattered and broken? If he hadn't been so drunk, he might never have found out. But he was in no danger of stopping.

He worked himself back and forth in her wet tunnel, the soft schlukking of her unconscious tunnel like music to his perked ears, and he grew to his full size, his cock straining every inch of her clenching crevasse. But it was his knot that surprised him, reaching his full size without ravaging the poor bitch. She matched him inch after inch, until her bloated bulge strained and shuddered at the very breaking point.

"Nnnnngh!" he groaned, knotting his first bitch, and one merely a third of his size. He'd never imagined fucking a four-legger, much less Jasmine, but now that he had her, he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. Squeezing her tight in his arms, the exultant Mastiff hammered her tight cunt, barely able to move an inch with his tip buried up into her womb. She lay limp in his arms, but she was so tight it felt like she was working him over, clenching and squeezing as she waited for his inevitable orgasm. But in actuality, she was passed out drunk, totally pliable and completely incoherent.

"Oh fuck, so tight. You bight me plastered, but dat won'd stop that plump little womb a yours from taking all I gots to give!" He humped harder and harder, his hips a blur. Bucking only a centimeter back and forth it was only a matter of time before he gave the unconscious feral what she really, really didn't want. Throbbing, Jampa let loose, releasing his balls straight into her baby-maker. His paws on her belly could feel her already rotund little pouch stretch out even more, growing and growing until she felt like she was packing a basketball in her belly. With his enormous cock gumming up her pipes, there was nowhere for the cum to go except to splurt again and again into her churning, fertile stew, joining his first load in the quest for every last available egg. If she had 'em, they'd become the largest little Rottie mutts anyone had ever seen. But that wasn't his problem. She'd said 'yes', after all! He drooled and moaned and shuddered above the non-responsive bitch, draining himself to completion, his large balls finally empty. Only then did he collapse on to her back, clutching the new mother of his puppies tight. A heavy price to pay for peeing on his Buddha statue, but a fitting punishment for months of abuse flowing entirely from her onto him. It felt right to pay her back.

Until the ecstasy of orgasm wore off. Then he felt guilt and shame like never before, unable to even pull out of the drunk bitch. He had to wait thirty minutes before he finally softened enough to let her go, leaving her with a flood of dog cum spilling out of her onto his sheets. He picked her up and shook her off to get the last of it out of her before giving her a quick shower and taking her back to her room to sleep off the booze, then he spent the rest of the night cleaning up his room of all the evidence, then wiping down his shrine.

He didn't sleep. He spent the rest of the night in a chair, wondering how much and what she'd remember when she woke up. Whether he'd be going to jail in the morning or if she'd apologize to him. Would she even wake up from the amount of whiskey in her blood? That was the scariest for him. Even if the cops didn't suspect him of rape, they'd know the two housemates had gotten wasted and fucked until she died of alcohol poisoning...

He checked on her every hour to make sure she was still breathing before returning to his chair to worry and fret. Until finally, at 9:00 A.M., she woke, stumbling out of her room. "Oh - what happened last night?" she groaned, stretching her legs. "I feel like I ran a marathon."

"Yeah, you got pretty drunk," he grunted, his own eyes starting to rue the light filtering through the blinds.

"Sounds like a productive evening, then," she chuckled. She looked up at Jampa and said, "Early day at work?" Normally the large male got to sleep in.

She really doesn't remember? Jampa said, "Yeah, got some cement work we gotta do before the full sun's out. S-see you later."

"Oof, my legs are really sore," she whined. "Oh, yeah - later Jampa. Fuck, where's that aspirin..."

He hurried out the door, elated. She didn't remember anything. It was like the whole evening hadn't happened at all! He had never felt more relieved that getting off scot-free. Until he turned on his car and realized, "Oh, right - she's gonna find out eventually."

She might not remember the events of last night, but how exactly was he going to explain the most important thing?

That she's pregnant?

* * * * *

Jampa came back from work that day, still nervous. What if she'd remembered? He'd cleaned up the broken glass, but there was still a missing panel on the T.V. stand. What if she figured out why the fur on her snout was misplaced and remembered the muzzle? Or she realized her pussy was gaping way wider than in past heats.

But when he opened the door to the apartment, there were no police. She was just sitting on the couch, watching T.V. and drinking - beer this time. The house still reeked of her heat, of course, but he just pretended he couldn't smell it. "Oh - not going out with your friends tonight?"

She was already slurring, again. "Dey gots ozzer plans. And I'm so sore," she complained.

"Yeah, okay," he said quietly, not wanting to push the issue. He put down his stuff, poured himself a glass of vodka and winced at the harsh taste. It always tasted worse on the first drink. He realized she was wearing the same t-shirt and shorts as the day before.

"What, your drinkin now, Wampa? Ruff day at construption?"

He shook his head. "Rough couple of days." He took another shot and immediately regretted it, putting the bottle away. "Ugh. I'm going to bed."

"Yeah, dat fingers. You neffar do anyting." Her eyes followed Jampa on his way to his room.

Opening the door, he realized it was absolutely covered in heat. Growling, he ran to check on the shrine, but it was still clear, but when he turned to look at the bed, he saw a seeping puddle of urine on his only pillow. "Oh, fuck you," he growled.

"Huh?" she called from the other room.

He grabbed the pillow and tossed it into the bathtub, checking to see that none of it had made it to the mattress. Oh God damn it He realized, she doesn't remember last night so she doesn't remembering fucking my room over, either!

"You peed on my bed!" he roared, fur bristling.

"I'd liketa shee ya proob it," she taunted.

"You were the only one home, bitch," he growled, nostrils flaring.

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Bad words fom da liddle man. Jus' enjoy it - scent for da celberate."

"No, this ain't ending like this, dog," he said, quickly gathering his muzzle from the cabinet so that should couldn't see it.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, fur bristling. She stood up, tail held in a challenge pose, much like the night before. "Who think you steppin for? I'll rip you apart," she growled.

This time he didn't charge her. He just walked calmly and quickly to the confused Rottweiler, faking with the hand holding the muzzle. She lunged for it, but he pulled it back, reaching with the right to grab her collar and lift her into the air with a loud squeal. She kicked her legs and snapped her teeth, but he just pushed her nose straight up until she was staring at the ceiling, unable to open her mouth at all as he looped the end of the muzzle onto her, tightening the straps with his other hand.

"Rrrrgh! Mrrrggfff!" she protested, wiggling free. He let her go, only for the drunk girl to charge him again and again, trying to hurt him with her claws. She got a few good swipes in, but he systematically dismantled her with counter blows to the head and body, until she was moving slower, stumbling not just from the drink. When she'd tired herself out, Jampa lifted her by the scruff and carried her to his room again. He glanced around and realized he could just lower the loop of her muzzle at the back of her head down the post of the head board, leaving her almost flat on the bed, on her back, legs kicking. She couldn't move at all, her head tied to the head board.

The Tibetan Mastiff had completely forgone pacifism, and just needed to teach this bitch not to mess with him anymore. This wasn't about sex, it was about revenge, and this time he wanted her to remember. He growled, "You're done pretending to run this place, Jasmine. I'm the alpha now, and I'll prove it. Lowering his pants, he stepped in front of her half-naked, his enormous, plump sheath clearly visible, and then he stood on the bed over the smaller dog.

"Anything you mark you think is yours? Well sure, then take this message!" he growled at the struggling, whining canine. He hadn't emptied his bladder during work, so he had plenty backed up, an arc of yellow fluid launching down to hit Jasmine's t-shirt. Sure, some splashed off onto his own bed, but he was making a point, God damn it! She squealed as he marked her head to toe, a heavy splatter dampening her shirt and shorts before he directed his stream up to her muzzle. "You fuck with me, I fuck with you," he said, realizing that yes, he was going to take it this far. The stream landing smack dab on her nose, the wireframe muzzle keeping her mouth right there. He couldn't force her to open her mouth, but warm water coated her face, fur, and eyes, drenching every inch of the motherfucking asshole.

He shook off the last few drops, and said, "You look wet." He pulled off her shorts and simply tore her shirt in two, tossing the damp clothes into an empty hamper. She was still wet underneath, eyes wide and wincing. "Looks like you really need a drink."

Jampa left her there for five minutes and returned with a bottle of whiskey. She groaned and kicked after being alone for how long she didn't really know, completely at his mercy. But when he held the drink up to her nose and poured it down her muzzle, she opened her mouth and took it in, washing out the taste of any urine that had snuck between her lips before.

He had to admit, she looked better than ever, pinned to his bed and marked. And now that she was naked, he couldn't really forget everything he'd done to her the night before. She wasn't any less in heat just because he'd knocked her up before. Her trembling spade still stuck out between her legs, demanding attention, even if the look on her eyes was very different. Jampa felt himself stirring. But if he was going to go any farther, she was going to need to be a bit drunker.

No surprise, she accepted another drink, and then another before he put the bottle away.

"You stupid, fucking, slut," he explained, climbing over her. "You play with fire and you're gon' get burned." She only had three seconds to realize what it meant that he was climbing over her, spreading her legs with his belly. She yelped when his tip, still just peeking out, lowered to her bare, unprotected pussy, having no idea this had happened twice the night before. She kicked and struggled harder than even when he'd peed on her, shaking her head 'no'. But that was all the prep she had before Jampa changed their relationship from housemates to guy with fleshlight.

She kicked and whined, but Jampa worked her over for as long as he wanted, slamming his whole shaft into her gaping pussy, back and forth, hands running through the damp fur on her belly. She moaned and squealed, and then she humped, especially when he pushed his knot all the way in, throbbing against her clit. As much as she didn't want it, her body it, clenching and squeezing and bucking and moaning, her tail to the side until he finally roared and came, deep inside with nothing to protect her already bloated womb.

She lay stunned for several minutes, and then panting meekly for the next twenty-five, waiting for the unbelievable knot on her housemate to shrink down. He took another shot and fed her one as well, then yanked out, soiling his sheets beneath her tail. Grinning, he lifted her head off the head board, letting her move again, and he wasn't surprised she put up a fight again. He remembered the prior night, after all. He wrestled her back to the bed and took her again, doggy-style, and after that, she still wasn't done fighting him, so he went ahead and fucked her up the ass again, this time with her in his lap, facing him. She kicked at him the whole time, but with a liberal use of cinched fingers around her neck, he kept her mostly compliant, and a hooked finger in her pussy made her cum.

She was barely conscious when she began to shudder, wheezing for air through his one-hand grip, and by the time he was done coating the asshole's asshole, she was unconscious. Nervous, he checked to make sure she was still breathing, and she was. Jampa did the cleaning up again, washing his sheets and her pants. She'd never wear that t-shirt again as it lay in tatters. At least there was no broken glass this time. He tossed her limp body in her own bed, wondering what she'd remember this time.

* * * * *

"You peed all over my bookcase!" Jampa growled. It wasn't night three, or four. It was the sixth night in a row. He fought her, he fucked her, he got her plastered, and she forgot it the next day. Six-in-a-row! That just wasn't possible.

She lunged and he dodged just in time, grabbing her tail and pulling her back until his other paw snaked around her collar. With a fireman heft, he carried her to his room and leapt onto his back, pulling her in with him. She tried to bite his face, but he cinched a paw around her muzzle, holding her tightly, while his spread legs sent her spread eagle over him. She sank vulva first to his dick, and his free hand slammed her ass down, ramming inside her.

She squealed, eyes reeling from his enormous cock.

Jampa leaned up to her ear and whispered, "When did you start to remember?"

He let go of her muzzle, surprise on Jasmine's face. With a smirk, she said, "The first night, Wampa."

He grinned, having figured it out. Still, the Rottweiler lunged with her free muzzle, trying to bite his face or neck, but he was too fast for the drunk bitch. He blocked with a huge arm, then returned up for the choke grip, pumping up and into her heat-swollen, fertile cunt. As long as he was stronger than her, she'd be his, and the massive Mastiff expected that to last.

His free hand slid to caress her smooth belly, her nipples already starting to swell a bit. And since she was his, so was her womb. It was far from the relationship he'd expected, but it'd do.

It'd do.