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"I don't believe you." "It's the fuckin' truth, Noah," Darren said. "Negotiations broke down after that and the captain made it clear. Parts are theirs unless you're included in the deal." My red muzzle formed a frown. "My services are included," I reminded him. "I'm not a piece of property, you jackass." "Sorry," he muttered and returned to the topic at hand. "You need to do this. For the town, Noah! If you can just do your thing for free this one time, we can actually get the plant's TP machine up and running again." I stared incredibly hard at the rugged timber wolf. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans that have each seen their share of grueling labor, and likely would until the day they fell apart. We were standing in my sunlit kitchen, with nobody else inside the house or even the next few over. If he wanted to, Darren could've easily used his upper body strength and deep voice to intimidate me into doing what he wanted. He didn't though, or rather, he didn't want to. The thought of having toilet paper once again did sound very appealing, however. "Ugh, fine!" I relented. Though I did jab a finger at the smiling wolf. "But the captain or whoever must wear a condom." "Alright." "That's the dealbreaker!" I added. "Of course," he motioned to the door, "now let's go, before they get antsy and some dumbass tries to edit the deals!" While he followed me outside and down the porch steps of what used to be my mother's home, Darren was quick to give my rump an encouraging squeeze. He then patted my lower back above my tail when it started to thrash at the wolf. He offered an appreciative smile as I stepped aside to follow behind him. Yankton Valley, South Dakota rested along the northernmost portion of the Missouri River, which intern was connected to the Mississippi River. During the first couple years of the apocalypse, when the stressed power grid went permanently out and civilization fell all around us, we all viewed outsiders with suspicion. Raiders would be met with bullets, and the occasional horde of starving, desperate nomads got scared off just by having rifles pointed in their direction. Everyone came to a consensus at some point though. Any traders or traveling merchants that stopped by our neck in the woods would meet with a few representatives. They would be given a list of what to look out for and would barter on our behalf. That way, too many cooks wouldn't spoil the pot, as the saying went. Sometimes bargains were struck. Other times they disintegrated into ashes. The times where negotiations did go through often resulted in my town gaining back something long since lost, like seeds to grow fruit, cigarettes, shampoos, or perfumes (I benefited from both greatly!), and even some solar panels one time. "Just so ya know, Darren..." I mumbled to him sharply, and eyed the wolf directly, "If I'm suddenly gonna find myself getting dragged on that boat, I'm gonna swim back to this town first chance I get and bite off your dick." He chuckled to himself. "My wife says the same threat each time I go to see you," he confessed. "Except, it's for if I ever decided to leave her for you..." It was my turn to laugh, and the tension dissipated. We soon found ourselves approaching the area of town nestled against the Missouri River, and we arrived at the docks where people liked to launch their boats or dock them during summertime. I wasn't surprised to see an outfitted boat-what looked like a small yacht of sorts covered in tarp and riddled with visible age- but I did double take at the site of a large group of mammals standing by the edge of the property. Almost all of the men were regular customers. Almost all of the women were family members or girlfriends. I had to close my eyes in order to ignore their staring as Darren led me past them and towards the pier. I wasn't able to drown out their whispering. "He's here! Thank God, he's brought him here!" "Can you believe we're actually doing this?" "Noah's got guts on him." "We're finally getting toilet paper again..." "We've become so godless...It's like we're a whorehouse." "Not like you never hired him, bud." "Shut it, fuckwad." "At least we'll be making toilet paper again." My ears perked at a couple of the things I heard, and I let out a low chuckle. Once upon a time, Yankton Valley was a timber town, possessing not only a sawmill, but also a small local factory to manufacture paper towels, napkins, and toilet paper. When the power grid went out and everything fell apart across the outside world, the townsfolk stopped shipping everything out and we kept what we made for ourselves. In time though, our surplus dwindled and factory machine parts broke down. It all came to head about a year ago, when the mechanics couldn't get the machine to work again without certain parts that needed replacement. And here I was, selling myself so that we could all make more toilet paper again. There were other people visible on the small yacht turned nomadic merchant ship. Except I was focused on three mammals standing on the small dock's main pier. Well, more like two mammals and one reptile. They were Paula Anderson (some townsfolk jokingly called her 'Paula Bunyan', but rarely to her face), a she-bear member of the town council who loved wearing plaid and often stood up for me if one of the more conservative townsfolk started bothering me about my work. She often told me to never mention it whenever I attempted to thank her for it. I always thought it had something to do with her, knowing my mom back in the day. Then there was Sheriff Baker, a bulldog with a scar across his cheek that he insisted didn't come from a bar fight in his youth. He still wore his small-town policeman's uniform with pride, even years into the end of the world, even donning a sheriff's hat to go with it. Both he and Paula appeared extremely relieved when they saw Darren and I approach. Then there was the alligator standing across from them. The long-healed battle scars on his face and along his jawline made Sheriff Baker look like a flawless Greek statue. He wore an old trucker's cap, unbuttoned camouflage jacket, and shirt underneath that matched his dark green scales, plus some blue denim jeans with more holes in it than the wood of the pier. He looked old enough to be my dead-beat father, whoever he was, and his bright yellow eyes surveyed me with unhidden hunger, which I could feel even from down the pier. "Thank God, you're here," Paula exhaled as we arrived. "We were worried it would take too long for you to get here." "Was starting to run outta stories," the Sheriff added dryly. "This your town 'courtesan' or whatever?" the gator spoke up. "I wanna look at him closer." The two mammals, plus Darren, looked expectantly towards me. Forcing a pleasant smile on my short muzzle, I hid my disdain at the situation and adopted my customer service face, uncrossing both arms and placing them placidly on my hips. He swiped them away and muttered something about keeping my arms up. I silently complied, raising both paws to rest them behind my head as if I were being ordered by a policeman. It wasn't a cop though, let alone someone cordial and sleepy like Sheriff Baker, who often used to hire my late mom back when she was the town whore. Now it was an outsider gator, examining me up and down like a succulent hunk of meat. "Deal," the gator answered, his deep voice almost a growl. He immediately began unzipping his pants. I caught a glimpse of green cock about to slide out between the flaps of his front fly before realization made me lift up a paw. "Wait, wait!" I told the gator and my friends. "Uh...Anywhere more...private, please?" My eyes traveled to the watchful group of towns folk standing next to what used to be the town dock's neighboring riverside restaurant, and the occupied windows of surrounding buildings and houses built next to the water. All of them had a perfect view, despite the distance. "Of course," Darren immediately understood. He turned and spoke to the gator merchant directly. "I know you said everything had to be done above deck-" "My crew sees me at all times," the gator interrupted. "And that's fine," Darren said. "We get it." Despite nobody raising their voices, I couldn't help but imagine the machine guns swiveling in our direction at the captain's order. My tail curled at the morbid thought. "Trust is important here." Paula pointed a thumb at me as she spoke, "But we're not letting you take him anywhere on your ship." Darren flashed a frown at her, just as the gator did too. "It's not that we don't trust you, don't get me wrong. We just wanna make sure you're not going too rough on Noah here. Last time he did this, the bastard left him bleeding and bruised." I inwardly smiled. That incident had happened when Luke Dooley had been dealing with a dry spell and ignored my warnings about slowing down. Luke was a local though, and not another outsider looking to trade, but the large gator didn't need to know. "Fair enough," he grunted. His scaly snout pointed in the direction of somewhere behind me. "How about there? Against the wall facing here. Out of sight of your people, but visible enough for my crew to keep an eye on this." "The boat house?" Sheriff Baker uttered. The old bulldog cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Outside? Are you sure you can't just go inside it-" "No," the gator growled. "Outside or not at all." "It'll do." I decided to step up and swallow down the anxiety growing in my throat. Not only did I lose my pride a long time ago, but something else would be occupying my esophagus. "I'll be fine with it as long as everyone keeps their word." We all traded contented nods. The gator smirked at me and then at members of his crew standing patiently against the railings of that army boat, and finally, he lumbered along the pier towards the boathouse. I followed behind and so did Paula, Darren, and the Sheriff. They dared not reach for their weapons. Yet it didn't stop them from boring holes into the back of my head and the gator merchant's, a sensation I quickly got used to as we approached the old structure. My stomach continued doing minor flip-flops. At least the rest of Yankton Valley wouldn't be able to see what was happening. Part of me wondered if they could still hear some of it though. I blushed fiercely when I heard distant clapping on the other side of the boathouse. I spotted Darren lifting his arm to give a thumbs up gesture, in order to ease everyone's minds somewhat. It didn't stop me from feeling the weight of everything on my shoulders, however. It did help me fall to my knees once the gator pulled his pants down and presented his semi-hard cock to with a few long strokes. The rows of yellowing teeth along his jaw formed a crooked crescent moon as I stared up his big length. "Get to work, Fox," the alligator ordered. The pier's wooden floorboards felt rough on my knees. I easily heard Paula and Darren awkwardly shuffling somewhere behind me. Meanwhile, I had zero doubts that Sheriff Baker was trying not to stare like I was, despite picking up the faint sound of him whistling. The reptile was impressive, indeed. And despite my reservations about getting pimped out in front of my whole town earlier, I still flushed with embarrassment at knowing the crew of the man I was about to sell myself to would be getting a free show regardless. I let all my thoughts drift away. I focused only on the moment. I closed my eyes and reopened them to stare at the thick, throbbing tip pointed at my canine nose. I inhaled it. It smelled like rich earth and salt water somehow, with a heavy dose of masculine sweat layered on top of alligator musk. My eyes darted up to the gator. We exchanged motionless nods, and I eyed his bulbous shaft. Without further waiting, I opened my muzzle wide and sunk directly down. The gator let out a satisfied hiss. I heard him leaning against the outer wall of the boathouse and how his tail tapped heavily against it and his buckling ankles. He clearly hadn't received action in a long time. I relaxed my throat enough for him to buck forward. I gagged audibly, even as my nose met scales and pubic hair, and the gator could go no further. He smelled exactly as I expected, sweaty and muscular, but somehow had cleanliness in his musk. That was when he let out a guttural moan as deep as it was vibrating like a purr through his cock. "Fuuuuuuuuck..." he growled above me. His voice quivered slightly as I pulled my mouth away to wrap it partly around his shaft and licked it up and down. "That's right, good slut...Worship that gator dick..." My tongue traced his veins, one paw cradling his unkempt and fuzzy orbs beneath while the other tried grasping onto his hip. The unnamed gator didn't like that. A strong swipe of his hand led to me fidgeting with my other paw atop my knee as I continued lathering his angry shaft. I would only be interrupted by an occasionally hard fuck against my muzzle, which tested my gagging noises enough times for me to choke on several inches of that shaft, much to the delight of the smug gator. What was it with men getting satisfaction over making a woman or gay guy like me struggle to take their dick the entire way down? A part of me wondered if I could hear Paula, Darren, or the Sheriff letting out a flustered noise. Or maybe it was a suppressed moan. Whatever the case, their presence was drowned out by loud slurping and growling mixed with lustful groans and shifting clothes. Not to mention a loud heartbeat that I could feel pulsating between my lips. It went faster as I felt him slide forward and backwards along my tongue. The alligator set his hand atop my head, digging his claws through my hair, occasionally brushing against both of the molten hot, partially folded ears. He picked up the pace of his thrusts. He made each one last longer or short enough to barely register before doing it again. Throughout it all, I got tired of staring up at the smirking alligator. I didn't enjoy the sight of his unwashed pubic hair either. Closing my eyes didn't prevent me from picking up the smug grunts in his voice. So, I refocused my hearing on nothing but howling wind, the occasional loud splash of water from the river, and the obscene wet sounds my gator client produced. It allowed me to go with the flow. It allowed me to drown out my thoughts and the reminder that we weren't in a private room, but out in the open. Time crawled onward. I wasn't blowing someone so much as being bred in my mouth. The gator took full control and very much enjoyed it. He squirted several times along my overwhelmed tongue, snorting, frowning, huffing at the wet muzzle soaking his big member. I was hard, but not as much as him. I leaked inside my underwear, but none of it came close to the amount of pre-cum that filled my taste buds. I no longer tasted that salty liquid, not like I used to when I was much younger, following Mom's passing and me graduating high school with no future. Back when money still held value. Back when I had no job experience other than taking orders at a McDonald's drive thru. Back when I was desperate to pay the mortgage and bills on time and would do anything to keep the family home. I returned it to the present to refocus on my customer's dick. I continued swallowing. I went with all my might. I slurped harder, moaning around the thick member, making it sound like I relished him. He had already started going faster and faster before suddenly slowing down. Not before thrusting one more time with enough force to make me gag again. He held me around his shaft for several seconds, causing me to choke for real. My nostrils sharply inhaled, exhaled, and inhaled again into his pubic hair. More spurts of pre went down my throat and I started to tear up from limited oxygen. The only thing keeping me from pounding my fist into his leg, was knowing that it had to be over soon. Plus, neither Paula, nor Darren nor Sheriff Baker would dare let him hurt me. "Good foxy," he snarled happily. "Alright, it's time..." The gator abruptly pulled me off his length, and I let out a series of harsh coughs and sputtering pants as he pulled me up into a standing position. He glanced between me and the others. "This little thing going raw, or did you bring any lube?" Darren almost spoke up for me. "We-" "Lube and c-condom," I cleared my throat while wiping my chin with his pre-cum and my saliva. "I-In my back p-pocket. Use them." The merchant gator grinned again, his large tail tapping behind us in anticipation. He positioned me to face the boathouse wall, one of his paws snatching the small bottle of strawberry-flavored lubricant and an unopened condom in my rear pocket. He took the extra time to grope, almost palm my ass while peeling my jeans down to my ankles, then allowing me to step out of them with my shoes still on. A chill ran up under my inner thigh fur. My tail curled tightly against the cool outside breeze, only to be roughly pushed aside. I whimpered in embarrassment, but not as much as embarrassment as the thought of being fucked out in the open would have been. Nevertheless, the awkward presence of three extra people (plus the alligator's crew) nearby didn't help. Flustering across my face, vulpine ears remaining pointed downward, I stared directly into the building's wall. Nothing but old wood and chipping paint filled my vision. "Now, don't you go too hard on him, you hear me?" Paula warned behind us. "And if he's telling you to stop or slow, you stop or slow." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," the alligator, after audibly opening, the bottle of lube, replied dismissively. "Won't hurt him too much. But I'll be damned if I'm not gonna enjoy him. Haven't fucked a good ass in months..." Seconds later, I heard the condom wrapper being ripped open, followed by squelching noises and the scent of old artificial strawberries filling the air. I could hear his cock being coated in lubricant. I felt it slap wetly and throb against my rear end. A calloused hand spread one of my ass cheeks wide, almost gripping it possessively. The gator growled into my ears, hot and unwashed breath making my neck fur, his presence almost looming over me. I squirmed in anticipation from his poking and prodding. A few blind thrusts started to frustrate the alligator, only to have them let out a satisfied grunt when his next thrust hit Home. "Nngggahhhh!" I gasped for a long, stretched moment as he stretched me. It's done like a bitch, but the lube absolutely helped. It kept me from feeling split apart while he pushed deeper. Inch after inch stretched me wider, making me feel full. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." The gator snorted between experimental thrusts, "I...ngh, plan...to!" he clearly reveled at feeling my experienced ass clench expertly around his cock. "Grrr, hehe! That's so tight..." Hot air tickled the back of my neck. He grasped my hair with each harsh fuck, pushing me against the old wall hard enough to make it creak. My trembling legs remained firm against the floor of the pier while I held onto whatever patch of wood I could grasp. A finger or thumb would brush against splinter but not get pierced though. I ended up clutching an exposed piece of board on my right paw and my left palm held onto the merchant gator's when he held his against the wall. His rough fingers surrounded mine, squeezing tighter and tighter. I let out a low whimper that pleased him, playing the part, and ignoring my neglected cock dangling between my legs. The brute inside of me seemed to be in heaven. His hips erratically bucked back-and-forth, his shaft ramming in and out of my clenching ring, moving almost like a firm piston made of flesh. He chuckled darkly at my increased whimpering, which somehow made him get even harder while inside of me. Which in turn caused me to moan even more with pleasure and let out repeated cries. He clearly enjoyed the submissive side of me. I could feel it even with the condom clinging to his large dick, spreading my insides wide while clinging like a vise. Both legs became loose noodles, struggling to keep me standing as the gator fucked me harder against the boat house. I practically felt the wood rubbing against my right muzzle, a nail nearly scraping close to my sweating forehead. He pulled my hair. He gripped my hip as it returned to meet his, each impact following with drool on my neck or shoulders, soaking through my shirt. With firm thrusts, his grunts were drowned out by haggard snarls that vibrated into my spine and thrashing tail. Soon, the merchant gator filling me up released a reptilian howl that sounded more akin to an angry dragon. His claws dug deep into skin, during which he pulled my hair and pounded four more times, the final one causing me to see stars, even with my eyes shut. I let out my own noise of satisfaction they made it sound less like discomfort and more like euphoria. The gator let out a deep chuckle. "Oooooh....worth the price..." He unceremoniously pulled himself out of me. I suddenly felt empty and gaping, but fortunately not leaking any of the man's seed. I unsteadily turned to watch the alligator reach down to peel his condom off, then toss it over his shoulder into the river. Sheriff Baker and Paula did not look amused by it. Meanwhile, Darren stepped forward while failing to hide the erection in his jeans, let alone his visible concern for me. Aww. "We have our deal," the gator said while buttoning up his pants. "But I do have one final request. You might like it." Darren wearily asked, "What is it?" The gator smacked my ass, and I stood up straighter to glare one or two daggers in his direction. I held my tongue though, not wanting to suddenly give him an excuse to change his mind and have all this negotiation bullshit be for nothing. So, I forced a smile as the cocky reptilian brute winked at me before turning back towards Darren and the others. I idly dressed and listened as they talked. "Me and my crew go all up and down the Missouri and Mississippi. We trade with other settlements like the Nation but rarely go up this far into the Dakotas. We got a reason to now. What do you say we make this a regular thing?" Me, Darren, Paula, and the Sheriff spoke up at once, "What?" "Unless ya got a girl just as slutty as him, that is," he added. His eyes drifted over to Sheriff Baker and Paula. "You give us a list of things you're looking for or what this town needs and we will come back every couple months to barter. Each time we barter, your boy Noah here's on the table." "Whatever," I sighed, then yelped as I suddenly lost my footing. Darren was quick to keep me upright. "Thanks." "No, thank you," he replied. "You did an amazing job." "I always give quality service-ow, ow," I whimpered and winced, suddenly feeling the cramping I'd been ignoring. The older timber wolf assisted me without asking. "Christ, that smarts..." "It didn't look too uncomfortable," Darren tried to comfort me. "Fuck you," I spat in annoyance. "My ass is probably gonna still sting for the next few days..." The alligator ignored the two of us as he continued speaking with Paula, our town's passive sheriff, and a few of his crewmen carrying boxes. "If your men can also find us the parts to replace this old bulldozer we have, that would be wonderful," Paula mentioned aloud. "We're also looking for an alternator to a-" "We'll discuss it after my men offload your parts and you bring us your moonshine and the other stuff like we agreed," the gator said, and offered another smug wink at me once he noticed Darren and I leaving. "Hey! See you around, foxy. I hope my crew can enjoy you next time we stop by for a visit." The urge to flip him off was strong. But as Darren walked me away from the pier and we passed the crowd of town folk occasionally patting my shoulders or back as silent thanks, I couldn't help but wag my tail. On top of being able to enjoy toilet paper again in the near future, I started to wonder what other luxuries the townsfolk and I would receive in exchange for me sleeping with the gator again. The man did say he often traveled up and down the Mississippi, after all. Maybe he could bring up intact DVDs, more generators, maybe even some shrimp kept frozen in coolers? So many possibilities in uncertain times. Suddenly, the thought of seeing that smug alligator again didn't feel so bad.