The Cure
"First things first," Cadpig starts, "We need to get to the source of your problem in order for us to solve it."
Whizzer just stares at her like her head had swollen to twice it's already large size.
She continues despite, "You don't seem to possess any physical reason for incontinence so I'm going to assume that something has polluted the river of your soul. What do you think is the cause of your problem?"
Whizzer just shrugs; his large ears flapping against his slender shoulders.
"Well that narrows it down. Let's try to get a bit more specific. What don't you like?"
"Loud noises. Sudden noises. Things coming at me."
"Good, good. Go on."
"That's all I can think of."
"What do you like?"
"I dunno. Food. Fires. Doing stuff with my friends. Not getting caught."
"Now we're getting somewhere."
He gawks at her.
"I want you to dwell on those positive thoughts and try to hold your bladder."
Whizzer is about to inquire why when Cadpig jumps at him, shaking her paws and screaming gibberish.
There is a small but growing puddle beneath his feet.
***
"Let's try something else."
She grabs his collar and they march around the perimeter of the Dearly farm, making frequent stops. Eventually it seems he was dry.
"Remember what I said earlier?"
He was about to ask when she hurled herself at him again.
The puddle isn't as large.
***
They are sitting on a grassy knoll, facing each other. Whizzer's eyes having a tendency to stray from hers. Cadpig's limpid blue eyes don't waver from his face.
She is frustrated; while she knew that parental absence had, in part, contributed to each of them and all of their problems (and they were many), she had never encountered someone like this. Then again, she was in the habit of avoiding trouble unless she had a reason. Mooch was trouble and his coterie was by extension.
She'd had more rewarding conversations with some humans then the entirety of her attempts with Whizzer.
She is in the lotus position (and yes, vaguely aware that Whizzer had a full view of the goods) and trying to find her center. Whizzer seemed to put her spirit askew.
When he turned his head to look at the surroundings for the fifth time in less than thirty seconds she had to comment.
"What are you looking at?"
"Places to go," he says.
Nonchalantly, "You just went."
He shrugs, "I have to go again."
Cadpig sighs, "How long will it take?"
***
Drastic measures were needed.
They were standing near a tree. Cadpig was pinching his cock in one hand. Whizzer was pretending like it didn't hurt, but she could read his face.
"There's no need for the macho façade," she told him, "I know it hurts. You can say so if it will make you feel better."
He did his best to convey apathy, "I'm good. It really doesn't hurt."
Cadpig tightened her grip slightly, her claws pressing in gently. She could feel him beginning to quiver.
"How about now?"
She heard a whine build in his throat, but the only thing that emerged was another lie.
She whispered into his ear, "How badly do you have to go?"
"Not at all," he told her.
She pinched harder.
***
That night the pups were scattered around the barn. Cadpig had opted to remain with Whizzer to observe his sleeping patterns.
He lay on his back, legs splayed. His ears acted as a kind of pillow. He twitched slightly. He had done his business before he had gone to bed and showed no signs of abdominal pressure.
After an hour or so, when the only noises were the whispers of puppy breath and the occasional breeze, she laid her head on his stomach for a moment.
He groaned softly.
She put her paw on his penis, not hard enough to wake him, but enough to feel it when he strained and emptied himself onto the barn floor.
***
She did this for two more nights. Each night was something different.
The second night she did nothing but the same thing happened at roughly the same time. He expelled shortly after sleeping. Whether it was because of dreams or some form of conditioning, she didn't know.
The third night, she waited until he had just fallen asleep and then lightly tickled the tip of his penis. He responded by turning onto his side for a few minutes. When some part of him deduced that it wouldn't happen again, he returned to his previous position.
She did it again.
The same results occurred.
This continued until the fateful moment.
From the fact that despite stimulus he was able to hold it while slumbering, she was able to confirm her theory that it was psychosomatic.
***
She approached him at breakfast the next day.
"Did you know that you have the ability to be regular?"
She could tell he was glaring at her through the sleep caked around the corner of his eyes.
"That means that you can develop a qualified pattern if given the right impetus. That makes me think I've been going about this the wrong way. I read somewhere that the best way to train dogs is positive reinforcement. That means if you can do something to my liking you might just get at a reward."
"Yeah?" he blurted, spraying her face with kibble, "Like what?"
She wiped her face and continued, "Well, I know where more than a few bones are buried on this great big farm."
He chortled, "Me an Mooch have probably dug 'em up already." Cadpig was skeptical, "All of them?"
"Uh huh."
"That means I'll have to think of something else."
"Like what?"
She sidled up to him, their flanks rubbing, and said coyly, "I can think of more than a few things."
She licked his cheek.
When he smiled, more kibble fell from his lips.
***
A gentle breeze shivered across the expanse of the Dearly Farm. It swept to every corner, including the isolated grove where Cadpig and Whizzer were now situated.
"First things first," she said to him.
He grinned oafishly, recalling the past.
"I know that you can do this because you don't do it in your sleep."
He met her determination with indifference.
"What do you dream about?"
"Um, I don't remember."
"It's been said that everyone has dreams of the future, but that we don't remember them. I think you think you dream that you're going to have an accident and feel a subconscious need to do it."
He gaped for a few seconds and then responded with a distracted, "Yes."
She barked at him, "You're not paying attention!"
He jumped at the sound of her voice, shivering.
Cadpig didn't have to look down to know what happened.
***
They reconvened the next day at a different time (she felt that a routine with bad results wasn't conducive to achieving their goal), and a different place.
She sighed when they were seated, still lamenting over the previous day.
"Obviously my program isn't as efficacious as I thought it would be. Otherwise we wouldn't be back here."
"Well, um," he shifts nervously, pointing towards another grove, "Weren't we over there?"
Cadpig smiles without humor, "That's technically a correct answer."
She withdraws a small pouch conveniently hidden on her body and removes a dog treat, handing it to him.
He gobbles it quickly, smacking his lips, his tongue wrapping around his muzzle to get every crumb.
"That was a little dry. Can I have something to drink."
Cadpig's eyes brighten, "Well, let's think this over for a second," she pauses for dramatic effect, "NO!"
He jumps, cringing again.
But nothing happens.
Her smile now is genuine.
"I think we just made a breakthrough. Maybe being away from Mooch has done some good for you."
"Actually, I've hung out with him a couple times."
"Then not spending as much time with him."
"I think it might have been more."
"Really?" she perks, "Then it must be me."
She pulls the pouch out again, "Have as many as you want."
***
The next day, before meeting at the same spot as the previous day, Cadpig had Whizzer load up on liquid.
They sit much as before, transversely.
She does nothing but look at him with disapproval: he's been stirring for quite some time, holding his bladder as long as he can.
Somehow she's acquired a watch that manages to fit her slender wrists. She glances at it occasionally. Time passes quicker for her then him. Pain is starting to build in Whizzer's abdomen. It started as a dull ache but amplified to sharp pangs with every breath. He knows he shouldn't but reaches down to clutch at himself.
Cadpig glances at the watch.
Whizzer starts rocking back and forth. His eyes plead with her.
She takes a longer amount of time to stare at the watch. Reared up on her hind legs, her other hand is in the air, ready to signal. Several seconds pass eternally for him before her paw is down and he's dashing to the nearest tree.
It's a while before he gets back and accepts the latest treat.
***
It becomes their ritual: each day, they return to the same place for the same purpose of training a wayward puppy. Each day becomes another in a succession of victories.
Eventually Cadpig runs out of treats and rewards him with a kiss.
A peck at first, that he can barely feel through the fur on his face. Longer and wetter as time goes on. The kisses turn into licks, long swathes of saliva ruffling his fur.
Eventually that turns into something else.
***
On a day not too far removed from the start of their routine, Cadpig and Whizzer muster at a different time at a different place.
"I suppose you all are wondering why I've asked you to be here," she asks.
"No, I think I understand."
"That was joke."
"Oh."
"But I did want to congratulate you. I think there's nothing more we can do."
"Not even finding the pollution in the river of my soul."
"I don't think it was dirty, I just think it needed a little filtering."
"OK."
"We've done that. The only thing that can happen is you improving with a little bit of independent practice."
"Why should I do that?"
"You know what they say about practice."
"No I don't."
"You're not making it easy to like you."
"I never said it would be."
"You never said anything at all."
"Wasn't this your idea to begin with?"
"Don't change the subject!"
Whizzer became defensive, his features bending into the beginnings of anger, "I was-"
Cadpig cuts him off with the first deep kiss she's given him.
He blinks stupidly several times.
"No need to thank me," she quips
Before he can say anything else, she does it again.
This time, Whizzer grows bolder, his tongue tapping against hers.
"That's better," she says, pulling back to breathe deeply before kissing him again.
Her tongue slithers outward, wriggling its way through his jowls and gently stroking his gums.
She isn't sure, but perhaps he exhales quickly, slightly, waving the almost downy fur on her pretty cheeks to the fine point of being imprecise.
They held each other and kissed, paws wrapped tightly around each other's torsos, breathing deeper than a moment before.
His eyes are closed tightly, his lips tightened around her muzzle, and hers likewise. Their teeth came close to grating, to smashing together, to cutting into gums, but judicious prudence on the part of one of them eliminates danger. As she runs her paws across his back, he shakes. She smiles inwardly, startled that someone so blunt verbally could be shy about something just as physical as vocalization. She contemplates all the processes involved in touch, marveling at how quickly her thoughts are translated into the sensations running through his body.
His shaking increases, his claws are starting to move more roughly across her, no longer acting as mere mutual support, but quick, prurient strokes across the curve of her spine and the flat of her breast.
Cadpig's nipples begin to expose themselves. At first nearly imperceptible if one is unsure of what to look for. Merely discoloration of the sea of white fur washing over her body, they appear as slight discoloration, but the pattern reveals it to be anatomical. The further she and he progress, the more she grows aroused. Her backs legs slide across the topsoil to spread. Whether by accident or design, Cadpig doesn't care to know, but it has happened.
Her unessential loss of height isn't lost on her partner. His eyes open for the first time since their second kiss. The spot on top of her head is the first thing he sees. His first thought is why she lost enough to clip his teeth with hers. As careful as he was, it seemed as if she was being cautious to the point of mothering. Her slip of elevation isn't unnoticed, and as that changes so does her demeanor. She moves her head more aggressively. He has to twist to meet her movement for movement. Any musings on the reason for this as lost as he matches her.
Their tongues dart around each other like snakes.
Taking advantage of her almost vulnerable position, he lunges forward enough to tip them over. He falls oddly as not to hurt her. Somehow their lips remain unbroken through the fall.
The impact rattles her, but the vibrations of it cause her nipples to rise to their full height.
When he pulls back in curiosity of the cessation of her half their necking, he can easily see the divulgence of her nipples. Two columns of three nearly linear nubs of sensitive flesh.
Cadpig's grin infects her face, and she brings a paw up to her mouth, stopping first to tousle Whizzer's head. She licks one finger, then the others in turn slowly, gliding them across her mouth, rather than move her tongue. She concentrates the bulk of her saliva on the pads. The texture of them reflects the sun's rays in hundreds of pin-heads of light.
She rubs one, then another, whole another, down the whole of her chest and torso until she reaches the cusp of her pubic mound. The 't' of her vagina seems almost like it's winking at him. Her lips nestle easily around the single finger she penetrates herself with it. The first sensation ripples outward in time with the first of her strokes.
Whizzer smirks shyly at her. He isn't looking at her face.
He is watching how the muscles on her arms shift and mov underneath the skin. The fur waves in tune.
Every time she moves, her finger penetrates a little deeper. Her mouth drops open and her eyes close. Her thoughts of the nature of her cure gone. She has to admit to herself, that she's having more fun then she would have thought. And if Whizzer was enjoying this (and she was just beginning), he was going to be blown away later.
Drool starts to gather in the corners of her mouth, white flecks that drop off at irregular intervals, in tune with her gentle rocking.
She grows more moist and lets another finger slip in.
She can feel the two of them inside her, As she moves, her juices thicken, rubbing into her fur.
Whizzer eyes have grown larger than his bladder.
Cadpig is writhing on the ground, her body is twisting as the pleasure welling inside her grows. She pauses, her body curved, on hand on her slit, the other on her nipples, tweaking one between a finger and her dewclaw, looking at him.
She looks at him coquettishly, "You know, I have six of these and only one free paw."
Whizzer's astonishment turns into joy, and he practically pounces on her, his paws finding purchase on every nook and cranny, in every dimple and curve, in every crack and crevice on her body.
Cadpig moans, her voice low and husky.
His right paw massages her lips, playing with the fur, twirling the softer, longer strands around his fingers, curling it. His hand touches hers. Her muscles stiffen beneath his touch.
Whizzer can feel his cock stir, the first small swellng.
Cadpig withdraws her hand from herself, holding two fingers out to Whizzer. He licks at them gingerly, enjoying the taste and lingering smell. She rubs his snout, and his nose chills for a just a moment. He licks his chops.
She moves her hand over his chest, scratching at his hide. Whizzer shudders at her touch, a gentle shiver rippling up from his toes to the tip of his nose. Her paws drift down, waggling in short spirals. His shaking intensifies.
Slowly, her hand reaches his cock.
His shake turns to a shudder. Cadpig's light grip doesn't loose. She uses the tips of her claws to coax him out.
The first exposition of his cock; the tip peeks out like a prurient stain.
Whizzer moans lightly. He glances at Cadpig, imagining her tongue on his cock, stroking his length. He puts a paw on her head, using the spot as a target, and rubbed his hand across her cranium. She grabs his other paw and nuzzled his palm, kissing it gently. She controls him, letting him soothe his hand across her neck, running a finger across the rise of her collarbone.
He caresses her chest, fondling her nipples one at a time. His other paw follows the trailer of his first. The two catch up with each other at her stomach.
He kneads her skin, the fur thinner and longer as he moves towards her hips.
She moans, writhing at the intensity of his touch.
Cadpig glances down at his cock, fully exposed and engorged, hard and demanding, thicker at the base, with an oblong widening near the pointed tip. His knot swelling thickly above. His balls dangled obscenely, two perfectly formed spheres covered in downy white fur.
He traces her outer lips, running one finger in the crevice where her legs meet her crotch. He spreads her slowly, her inner lips, like him, shockingly pink against the white of her fur. Cadpig grabs one of his paws and slips him inside. His claw is a cold shock against her insides.
Her innards feel hot to him. She clenches gingerly at his finger. It reminds him of a nibble. She flexes and his finger is drawn in deeper. He starts a slow pulse, bobbing in and out of her.
Every inward motion makes her more moist. Every pull out makes her squirt a bit more onto the ground.
He pulls out and wipes his finger on her fur.
Cadpig smiles at him and leans forward rump in the air. Her tail is thrown to one side. Her legs are reasonably parted. She looks over her shoulder at him.
Whizzer shuffles forward, positioning himself awkwardly above her. His back legs move in small hops, his cock jiggling with each bounce.
She gasps when he slaps her ass.
He moves back, gazing downward at her legs and his cock, at their proximity. He takes careful aim, and thrusts hard.
His cock plunges inward with a wonderful friction, gliding easily until he gets to the center, where he's widest. He stops when he feels some resistance, not wanting to hurt her. He presses onward slowly, going in just a little deeper with each thrust until he's knot deep. Once inside, he feels free to thrust away, pounding hard enough to make an audible slap with his nuts against her ass.
Cadpig moans in time with his pounding. He increases the power of this thrusts in small increments; the gradual expansion causes his balls to swing in larger arcs and collide with her harder. They hit at her pubic mound, just above her clitoris. The impact causes her to clench him involuntarily. His massive size makes her attempts almost futile: his size practically forcing her open wider then she has been before.
He stops, pulling her closer to him, his paws sheathed chokingly around her chest. He pulls out to the tip, purposefully wobbling to pat at her slit. He shoves himself back in rudely with enough force to make them slide briefly across the ground.
Immediately his stabbing grows more urgent. He speeds up and starts pulling her to him roughly on the instroke, barely leaving on the outstroke. His knot is abutted rudely against her ass, compressing when he jabs at her.
His humps reach a frenzy and he groans, yanking her to him as hard as he can and pulling her close.
Cadpig feels his cock bulge as it disgorges his cum inside of her. She can feel him relax.
And feels something warm trickling down the back of her legs.
The End