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Daryl dropped a bombshell the next day. The Great Dane was chowing down on some fruit snacks on the couch, while Nala and Dalia were in the kid's room watching Princess Picklestone.

Why did I keep going over to his house after school? Knowing that I'd be the prime suspect when two-year-old Nala had spotted puppies? It wasn't like I was going to suddenly discover a way out of the situation. I couldn't unimpregnate Nala after I'd fucked her twice in her heat. The first time, I'd thought she was just a dog (as if that made it any better!), but the second time I knew full well as I basted her belly, fully knotted. Odds were pretty good that the young four-legged Doberman was pregnant, her body fully grown even though her brain was years behind.

Eleven, and already I was probably going to be a daddy. I'd probably get to see the pups for at least a little while before they hauled me off to jail.

Oh, right, the bombshell. I was drinking a juice box and sitting in the recliner when Daryl just out of the blue said, “I've been fucking Candy at school."

I almost dropped the box. “Wha - ?" I gasped.

“You wanted to know who it was. Candy Cotter."

How long ago had it been since I cared about that? Probably as soon as I started molesting Daryl's three-year-old sister. Still, I said, “We all thought it was Missy," a Dalmatian from the same class.

Daryl shook his head. “Don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want her to get teased."

“Teased" was an understatement. Missy had been ostracized as a slut by most of her friends and half the school. Even now people accused her out of the blue of lifting her tail for just anyone who wanted a piece. Candy was lucky because no one in their right mind would have pegged the white wolf teacher's pet of sneaking off to the bathroom for a quick fuck. “Why are you telling me this now?"

He said, “Dude, you've been moping around for days. Jared, she's a full-blown whore, like literally. She said she just needed the money for a pregnancy test, but I think that was bullshit because I've paid her like 200 dollars by now. Flash a little green, and she'll flash a bit of pink. If you want, I can set you up with a blowjob for twenty bucks, or you can pump that pussy, too, for a hundred. Might cheer you up…"

I shook my head. “She's not my type," I said.

“C'mon, a spade's a spade," Daryl pointed out. “And two legs or four, her muzzle's just as tight."

He thought I wasn't interested in Candy because she was a feral. In the past, he'd have guessed right. I used to fantasize about two-leggers exclusively. But Candy wasn't my type because she wasn't Dalia. Or Nala. I didn't care about some complicated, snotty prostitute. The girls I had the hots for were cute, and innocent, and not afraid to try new things. Though, maybe if Candy would eat my ass? “I've got more important things to worry about."

Daryl cocked his head. “So you are worried about something. What is it?"

Fuck. I didn't have a fake story prepared. I couldn't tell Daryl that I'd been getting to third base with his infant sister, and had hit a home run with her friend! Or could I?

“There's this girl," I said, tentatively.

“Ain't that always the thing," Daryl grinned, his floppy ears perked up.

“We've been making out, and -"

Daryl interrupted. “Woah, woah. Who?"

“Will you just listen?" I said. When he shut his mouth, I went again. “I think I mighta gotten her pregnant, and I don't know what to do."

The disbelief on my best friend's face was palpable. “You're here every day, Jared. The only girls you even see are Dalia, Nala, and Gwen…"

I froze. This was a mistake. What if he connected the dots? Plus he just saw me stiffen up! I tried to laugh it off with, “Yeah, I'm just messing with you. I'm fine."

Thank God there was a knock at the door. I needed a distraction badly. Gwen, Dalia's caretaker. Daryl's handler, Nathan, didn't do the housework or anything - he just did his college homework until or unless Daryl pressed the button on his wristband. I watched Gwen open the door, trying to deflect from our conversation.

It was Mr. von Fischer, Nala's dad. The not-so-talkative toddler still was clearly reluctant to leave her T.V. show, but she had a playdate with other toddlers next door.

“Can I go?" Dalia asked, looking up at the two-legged Doberman.

“Sorry, there'll already be four kids for me to watch by myself. Maybe next time?"

Dalia and Nala touched noses by way of saying goodbye, and I looked away so that I didn't see Nala's diapered rear end walking away. That never used to appeal to me, but now…

Gwen said, “Look at this room, Dalia - can you help me clean up these toys?" While the big, four-legged Dane couldn't pick things up, she could push things into convenient piles.

And then I was alone with Daryl once again. I tried to pretend like nothing had happened. “So, you wanna play tackleball or something?"

“Dude."

“What?"

He shook his head. “You don't get to just shrug that off. You said you got someone pregnant, and you weren't just messing with me."

I looked away. “I said I might have gotten someone pregnant."

Daryl said, “So, who? I just told you who I was fucking."

“Look, it doesn't matter. I was lying, okay? You're always bragging about girls. I didn't want you to think I'm just a virgin. But whatever - you can't just drop it." I stood dramatically, trying my best to sell it, though I would give anything at that moment to convince Daryl that I was a virgin. See if Nathan wants to throw a ball for you, because I don't."

The blue mantle Dane watched me go in silence, even as I slammed the front door closed behind me. I was panting now, adrenaline flowing through me. Would he buy it? If not, it wouldn't take him long to connect my story to the many baths I'd been giving his sister and Nala. If he asked Dalia about it, I had no doubt the three-year-old would give it away. It's not like she knew how to lie, or even that she should. So far, I'd convinced her not to tell anyone out of the blue, but if he asked her straight up?

Why was I trying so hard? I was already doomed. Was two or three months before the shit hit the fan really that important? Hands tightening to fists, I walked around the side of the house and opened the gate to the backyard, remembering the first time I met Nala. She'd snuck into the Field's yard through a loose slat. If only the nails at the bottom had held I wouldn't be in this mess.

I found it again, quickly enough. The board was still loose, and I knelt, wishing I had a hammer and nails, as if fixing it now could fix my situation. What I saw, instead, was Mr. von Fischer's playdate. There was thick plastic fencing out, and four little feral toddlers running around and chasing balls and nuzzling each other and chasing their tails. Fence ajar, I could see them and they couldn't see me.

The Doberman dad was barely paying attention, seated on the porch while the kids romped around in the plastic pen. I could understand why they'd sprung for a standalone fence, since God only knew how many fence slats were as busted as the one I was peeking through. What I didn't understand was why the circular play area had a central (open) gate that split the play area into two parts. Still, that wasn't what drew my attention most.

It was the Dalmatian. One of the kids was a boy Dalmatian. Like me.

It was my way out.

My salvation.

[The rest of this story is freely available on my Discord through https://subscribestar.adult/thakur]