FSE

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The heat cycle was invented by the lord of the ninth layer of hell, Cytha had decided. Why else would her body – in it’s prime, no less – subject her to such cruel and unusual punishment? It was the best kind of agony, being so horny you couldn’t think. Despite her ravenous pussy never tasting cock – a real one, that is – she knew that was precisely what she craved. Plastics simply could not placate the itch burning her inside-out.

They could scratch it though.

Cytha flopped back on her sweat and cum-soaked mattress, reeking of feminine musk as the silicone rolled out of her palm, slick with fresh mustelid juices. A halo of dildos and vibrators surrounded her, making her look like an angel fallen to depravity. The hellfire in her loins finally flickered to a dull ember under the wash of the umpteenth orgasm that day, allowing a moment of what the boys often called ‘post nut clarity’. She wasn’t usually like this.

From an early age, her parents foretold a brilliant future ahead, and her schooling confirmed it. An expert in most subjects and a prodigy in the rest, they’d told her. Not sports, of course, or any other pointless, physical activity. That could be left to the men. Not to say Cytha didn’t understand the benefits of a healthy body. She did her part to stay in shape – not much, thanks to lucky genetics. By all accounts, the otter was a hottie with an intellect to match. So why was she alone with her sex toys, living in an apartment for one with nobody to fix that abominable heat?

She was terrified of pregnancy. Absolutely mortified. So much so, that in her mid-twenties she still hadn’t lost her virginity, let alone ever had a boyfriend! The very thought of allowing a penis anywhere near her vagina was an anathema, yet it was all she could think about when her dreaded heat made its ugly resurgence. There were plenty of ways to practice safe sex, but none were safe enough for Cytha. The risk was simply too great; a baby would jeopardise her whole future!

Laying spread-eagle on the damp bed, that future flashed before her eyes: a six-figure job befitting someone of her brilliance, followed by renown and an early retirement. Then, she could think about raising a family in a house she owned, not rented, and chase whatever hobbies took her fancy. Why on Dog’s green Earth would she fuck all that up by letting her womb make the decisions?!

“Babies…” she exhaled, both longingly and with a shudder.

Unlike some, she kept in touch with her high school and college friends. Some of them were pregnant. A few were stay-at-home mums. Cytha considered their youth wasted, and yet they looked so happy in all the pictures. They’d probably been ‘brainwashed’ by maternal instincts and were perfectly happy being baby factories instead of successful in their careers. At least they had a man in their lives who could fuck the heat out of them…

Some of the non-parents have good sex lives too, Cytha pondered as she fumbled for her phone. It clicked on to reveal a notification from Jasmine – her number one best friend and unashamed slut – showing off her new boy toy. The beaming lynx had her arm around a nice-looking fox. He looks rather insignificant, she thought as she scrolled through her friend’s profile, just another body for her count. Jasmine perplexed her, because she’d slept with more men – and the occasional woman – than the rest of her friends combined and still managed to get away scott-free. Not a single pregnancy.

She tapped the side of her phone thoughtfully. The lynx wasn’t an idiot, she was using protection and choosing her men wisely. Perhaps she could do the same? Fuck, she was getting horny again. Cytha tapped out a quick message before she was reduced to a dumb, quivering mess again; “Hey, can we talk about… sex stuff?” A minute went by. Too long. She reached out for something, anything. Her paw landed on a small vibrator with thankfully had enough juice to buzz on. It granted her sodden pussy enough relief to take the edge off.

“Yeah! I’ll be right over” came the eventual response, and then Jasmine appeared offline again.

Shit, she lived on the other side of same apartment complex, and knowing Jasmine, she’d already be on her way over. Cytha leapt into action; the ruined bed could wait, she needed to get cleaned up, and the shower head was looking quite attractive.

---

Freshly showered, Cytha welcomed her feline friend inside. Jasmine was looking fritzy, more so than usual, like like she’d just gotten out of a tumble dryer, or- Cytha sniffed the air. It reeked of sex. Her own, yes, and something distinctly masculine.

“Did you just get fucked?” she asked, arms folded and eyebrow raised.

“Yep!” replied the lynx without an ounce of shame. As expected.

“Well, lucky you.”

“Mmmm,” they beamed, fondly remembering recent events, “he’s really good. Like really good.”

“And… his personality?”

Jasmine scoffed, “absolutely fine! I know how to pick ‘em. Most of the time.” She scratched her muzzle sheepishly. “I don’t brag about the bad ones y’know? Let a girl have some secrets!”

They laughed together, for there were no secrets between them. Cytha trusted Jasmine with her life, and would take a bullet – hopefully metaphorical – for her. Their opposite personalities only made them magnetise harder while like-minded friends drifted away into the sea of acquaintances. It was a phenomenon worth studying – perhaps one of the first things she’d do once she was retired with far too much free time.

“So,” the bedraggled feline asked, taking on a gruff, fatherly tone, “are ya finally ready for the talk?”

“No Jazz! I know how sex works, I just-“

“-have never done it?” she finished smugly.

Cytha blushed and crossed her legs, as if her pussy weren’t currently craving anything remotely phallic inside it. It was true, and she knew they knew. No chance a bookworm could lay a man without her slut-queen bestie (self-proclaimed) knowing about it.

“That’s… not what this is about.”

“So what do you wanna talk about then?”

“Advice,” she admitted slowly, pondering her next words in a way that would provoke the least amount of teasing. “How do you deal with your heat… using a guy?” she asked, resisting the urge to touch her fingertips together like a nerd.

“You mean, besides the obvious?” Jazz asked, paws on hips.

“Without getting pregnant,” she added. Oh my Dog, thought Cytha, is she going to make me spell it out? “Aren’t you um, tempted? Like you feel him inside you and you want to get knocked up, and-“

“Cytha!” she interrupted, “it doesn’t turn us into baby-craving monsters! There’s plenty of safe ways to get dick without any consequences.”

There was that word. It paralysed her like none other when she thought about sex.

Consequences.

“You got plan B, morning after pills, the good ol’ fashioned condom,” Jazz rattled off, fingers splayed for emphasis. “Hell, I’ve even had guys pull out or use the backdoor when those weren’t on hand.”

“Jazz!!!” she squeaked.

“Whaaat? I’m not pregnant,” she jabbed with a mysterious wink, “and once you get used to it, anal-“

“Nope!” the otter sharply exclaimed, slicing that conversation in half, “look, I just want to know… Is it safe? Is it… Easy, to do what you do?”

“Fuck yeah it is,” she stated as a matter of fact. Finally in the one field she outstood her gifted friend in, she wore a smug look of superiority, “why, is a certain someone sick of being cooped up in her apartment all alone with her armada of dildos?”

Cytha’s head nearly dislocated when it spun one-eighty to check her bedroom door – closed, with her masturbation suite safely hidden. Jasmine somehow looked even more smug when she turned back.

“C’mon, it’s obvious. I can smell your heat, and so can your neighbours.”

She shrunk, and the lynx pressed closer, taking her by the shoulders. The grin and her mocking tone vanished, replaced by what was and would always be her closest friend, “do you want to try having sex? The todd in my bed right now is really nice, I promise. We’ve got plenty of condoms.”

Really?!? The guy who had just fucked Jazz, whom she could currently smell lingering around the lynx like a tempting perfume. Right now??

“Right now??” her thoughts echoed into reality.

She shrugged, “If you want.”

“I-I can’t trust a guy like that,” she stuttered, worry-engine revving up, “I don’t know him. What if he does something I don’t want? What if horny me DOES want it, and then the consequences…” She shuddered again, like the word itself was a ghost passing right through her.

Jasmine shook her, “Hey, chill. You don’t need to get to know him. You just need a real dick, to take the edge off.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, and Cytha could practically see the cogs turning through those soul lenses. A devious plan, more conniving than the otter could have ever anticipated, hatched in that care-free skull.

“What if he’s unconscious, and you have all the control?” Jazz finally breathed.

That was just about the last thing she’d expected her best friend to say. “I… What?” she frowned, “but isn’t that rape?”

“Nah, he’s a kinky fucker. If I tell him I wanna ride his unconscious body he’ll eat sleeping pills himself,” she stated, adding, “and he’d probably think it was hot as fuck if I told him a stranger got off on his dick instead.”

That was insane. Her pussy disagreed; it juiced itself at the thought of tasting a real one, albeit wrapped in rubber – there was no way she was letting anyone inside her raw, conscious or not. Would it really be all that different from the variety of dildos decorating her bed? Yes, yes it would, her womb insisted. Damn you, vagina, she replied internally.

Cytha swallowed her pride and inhibitions, instead choosing to let her pussy make a decision. Would it be the worst decision of her life? Surely not. She was horny enough to the point of irrationality, but it’s not like she was an aforementioned baby-craving monster. Her limbs moved as her brain commanded, and she would simply stop if things were going too far. If Jasmine’s guy friend was going to be safely asleep for the whole thing, then there was hardly any risk. The notion of somehow ‘losing control’ like some women claimed was insanity. Yes, this was a smart decision.

“Okay,” she admitted, causing Jazz to jump from shock to excitement, “let’s do it.”

“Fuck yeah, Cytha!” they said with squeezing paws, “and hey, if it’s not everything you expected and more, then I promise I’ll eat you out until your cycle is done.”

A chuckle broke through her nervous exterior, “Jazzzz, I’m still not a lesbian.”

“Hey, neither am I,” she retorted mischievously, “but a bisexual gal is allowed to hit on her girl friend.”

“Uh huh,” she groaned. It wasn’t the first, nor the last time Jasmine tried to get in her pants. Admittedly, it was infinitely safer than sex with a guy, but Cytha simply didn’t swing that way, and not for lack of trying.

She fidgeted, feeling that doubt wash back in like the tide. Would she really lose her virginity today? There wasn’t any reason not to, she just wasn’t mentally prepared.

“Should I come over… Tonight?”

“Oh, no I don’t have any sleeping pills hun. I’ll pick some up tomorrow, sooo,” she trailed, gears turning once more, “come over tomorrow night? I’ll text you when he’s sound asleep.”

Thank Dog, a blessed day to brace herself. It could be lifechanging, or it could be disappointingly similar to the silicone simulacrums. Twenty four hours was simultaneously too long, and not enough time.

They hugged and said their short goodbyes. Rather that worry herself into oblivion by researching the failure rates of condoms and such, she focused on not masturbating until that fateful encounter. To heighten the experience, of course.

---

Cytha failed the very next morning. For the very first time ever, she’d dreamt about getting fucked. The incorporeal, masculine shape had creampied her too. Her imagination made it feel better than what it reasonably could be, because she had no way of knowing; Cytha had no first-hand experience to disprove or confirm the intensity of the dream.

She woke up hornier than ever, like she’d been edging all night. A round of faux cocks and vibrators brought some relief, but not satisfaction. There was never satisfaction when the heat cycle was in full swing. Her pussy was craving something real, and now that sex was finally on the table, it had taken the liberty to release the floodgates, both physically and metaphorically. Cytha’s oversensitive lips were salivating to taste some actual meat, not the plastic buffet she’d subjected it to all these years. She was also desperate to feel their warm cum fill her-

No, that wasn’t the plan. She was stronger than this, too smart to ruin her life for some momentary urges.

Cytha patted her rosy cheeks and took a deep breath, “hold it together, this isn’t a big deal. Okay, maybe it is, but not a huge deal. Just try it, see what all the fuss is about, maybe get off on his dick, then go home.”

Easier said than done. She masturbated on and off all day, anticipating and resisting the urge to overthink her way to a panic attack. Each orgasm was shallow, like a lie that promised the next time would work. The day was both long and short; it reminded her of the eleventh hour before final exams day, stressing about cramming a bit more or getting a good amount of night’s sleep. Cytha stared at her phone with overwhelming anxiety, waiting for Jasmine’s message while she schlicked the day away, terrified and excited to lose her v-card. She’d lost count of how many times she came between the sun’s rise and set, though it was definitely a new record.

Bzz, bzz, her phone vibrated.

She didn’t need to unlock it, because her eyes were already glued to the screen when the notification popped up; a picture of the lynx with the fox – Jasmine’s current profile picture – with a preview of the message underneath; it was a simple thumbs-up emoji.

Begin operation: Make the Otter Cum.

Cytha didn’t bother cleaning herself up, because what was the point? Just for one night, she’d put away bookworm persona and wear one of Jasmine’s outfits; a horny slut looking for a good fuck. She hoped none of her neighbours would spot her powerwalking through the apartment building, reeking of fertility. If they did, they’d see her for what she was: a bitch in heat looking to get some dick.

Nobody did, thankfully. It seemed everybody but her was fast asleep as moonlight poured in through hallway windows. It was a warm night, the kind perfect for lying in bed with nothing but underwear. Cytha passed hallways of closed doors, each more judgemental than the last. This wasn’t her, she didn’t ‘sneak’ through the night like a promiscuous prostitute, thighs rubbing in anticipation. She was supposed to be in her own bed, getting the rest she needed to excel in her work and achieve her destined future.

And the otter would, just not tonight. The intellect she was so proud of was still there, only it was giving the reins over to her pussy for a little while, ready to yank on them if things went too far. It’s not like she’d lose control and get carried away or anything. A ridiculous notion, of course she was in control, always! The ones who got pregnant early simply lacked willpower. She wouldn’t be one of them, she was smarter than that.

On silent paw pads, she arrived at Jasmine’s unit to find the door unlocked. She snuck in to see the apartment pitch black besides the lynx herself, monochrome in her phone’s artificial lighting as she lounged on the sofa, waiting.

They spoke in hushed tones, “hey, is he asleep?”

“Out like a light,” she winked, “are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be..” said Cytha, doubt creeping into her voice.

“I can hear the nerves in you rattling away,” said Jazz, leaning over to fetch a dark glass of something, “here, mixed you a cocktail. Some alcohol for the nerves.”

That seemed fine. She took it and peered into its murky depths, unable to identify the colours or anything else. It was totally fine; she trusted the feline. A sip turned into a gulp, finding it surprisingly tasty and her throat surprisingly dry. She didn’t mean to finish it, but the beverage did wonders on her nerves. Her chest warmed and she felt confident, with just a hint of heightened arousal. Without realising, Cytha was panting just a little bit harder, seeing faint colours where she shouldn’t have, and sniffing the air with unusual anticipation.

Jasmine placed the glass in her kitchen then led her through the cracked bedroom door, revealing a naked fox sprawled across the queen-sized mattress, perfectly bathed in moonlight that accentuated each muscle and feature. Especially his sheath. Cytha’s eyes were instantly drawn onto it, especially the hint of lipstick poking out of that fuzzy pouch, since it was the first real one she’d ever seen. It was almost disappointing after seeing so many beautiful, erect penises online. But she was rational, she knew guys needed a little encouragement first.

He was an attractive man, and kind of cute in the way he slept with lips slightly ajar, lightly breathing the cool night air. Jazz certainly had good taste in men, not that she had any inclination to his personality, and she never would. Cytha stood at the end of the bed, watching as her feline friend gracefully sat beside him and massaged his heavy-looking balls like she’d done it a thousand times. It was fascinating to see a canine grow hard before her very eyes; that tip of lipstick emerged further, turning into the head of a great red pillar. The shaft filled out, pulsing with every heartbeat until it stood like a flagpole, complete with tantalising veins and urethral bulge.

Cytha felt a curious urge to press her face into the underside and huff, or slide her mouth onto it.

It was almost disappointing when her friend did it first. The way her head bobbed was hypnotising, and when she pulled away she left his shaft with a fresh coat of saliva. She pet his sheath, almost condescendingly, and grinned with infectious excitement, “all ready, take a seat Cytha.”

Her heart jumped and skipped, filled with equal parts dread and anticipation. She was going to do it! Maybe not a great way to lose your virginity, but there was little ceremony in this. The fox was just a warm dildo, a tool to fix her blasted heat, nothing more. Cytha’s panties clung like tape to her sodden mound, to which Jasmine offered a smirk, “wow, you really need this huh?”

“Shut up and grab a condom would you?” she hissed.

There was a neat pile of wrappers on the bedside table, and quite a few discarded ones in the trash nearby. The otter gulped. One, thin layer of rubber protecting her from a disastrous future. There was another, minor precaution they’d discussed.

“Did you… Have sex with him earlier?”

“Mhm, as promised,” Jasmine lied, “I drained his balls for the better half of the afternoon.”

Ah, thank goodness. Even if the condom did fail somehow, he probably wouldn’t even be able to cum, assuming his nuts were still ‘recharging’.

The crinkle of wrapper made her cringe, to which the feline scoffed, “relaaax, he’s out cold.” For emphasis, she tapped his cheek. The todd’s head lolled limply like a corpse, which was a bit disturbing, if relieving. Hiding their villainous grin, Jazz snugly rolled the condom onto her man, growing wet herself at what was to come.

The horny otter straddled his waist, hovering over that wrapped length with the tip a mere inch from her folds. She stared and swallowed, unable to see the pinprick hole in the dim light. Cytha was in control, she’d lose her virginity at her own pace, and she wouldn’t get a drop of cum in her immensely fertile womb. It was laughably simple from a logical view- how did so many women get accidentally knocked up?

Jasmine sat on the edge, holding her paw for support as she lowered herself like molasses. A drop of feminine juice from her drooling pussy fell and slid down their canine shaft, then another. Then finally, that warm tip poked her. Cytha hesitated, trying to find a reason not to give her virginity to essentially a stranger.

Her friend didn’t let her. The cat stroked her inner thigh and gave a gentle push, just enough to encourage her to sink an inch or two, folds spreading around that tapered head. The onslaught of sensations was alien, yet overwhelmingly arousing. A shuddering moan escaped her lips as she fell, further and further, encountering bliss as if she were sinking her aching bones into a steaming hot spring. Virginal tightness fought against him, beset by waves of feminine arousal. She’d only meant to test the waters, not take him all!

It was a strange kind of fullness, similar to overeating but in her vagina, not her stomach; a bloated kind of deep satisfaction. She looked to Jazz, who only offered comforting smiles and squeezes. This was good, this was really good. Lifting up was almost as pleasurable, and she found the empty sensation surprisingly sorrowful. Your hole is meant to have cock in it, her instincts informed her, to which she struggled to disagree. She lowered her hips again, blushing at the horrendously lewd squelch that action caused, then up again. Down, up, down, just like she’d seen in porn.

Before she realised, she was clumsily bouncing her hips like it was her favourite toy with the suction cup, except he was a living, virile man. Still totally unresponsive, despite her rough movements. The only response from him was his wonderfully warm cock; it throbbed and enlarged, evidently having not been at full size when she mounted him. Then there was the knot, emerging from his sheath like a bear after winter, bumping into her mound. She wasn’t sure about letting that part inside her, especially because the condom didn’t wrap around that part. Didn’t they make canine condoms? Why didn’t Jasmine have any?

Thoughts for later, there were better things to do, like cum all over her first, real cock. Toys just didn’t compare. Everything about this was better. She absolutely understood the lynx’s proclivities, and to a lesser extent, how women could misjudge the situation and get knocked up. Fuck, even Cytha was having a hard time resisting the urge to take the condom off. It’ll feel even better raw, the devil on her shoulder whispered, to which the angel replied, no, this is more than enough. See? That’s how easy it was to not become a mother. Condom stays on, and she doesn’t take the knot. That’s what she thought, at least, but her body had other plans.

Like a beast following reproductive instinct, her hips dropped automatically, chasing that climax all the way to the cliff. Jazz was right behind her, paw down their own panties as they whispered encouragement. Do it, take the knot. You know you want to, Cytha heard, unaware that her best friend was the devil itself. You’ll love it, they continued, and with the deepest cravings she’d ever experienced, she failed to resist. She needed it. She just had to feel that knot stretching her insides, let his cock kiss her inner chamber, feel his hot cum fill her up. Her empty womb insisted she wouldn’t be complete without anything less.

So tantalisingly close to an orgasm, she entirely forgot taking the knot would invalidate the rubber. That, and every other thing seemed so miniscule in her extreme lust. His girth stretched her wider and wider, until finally it reached that halfway point and the knot popped inside, making Cytha to shudder and gasp in delight. It was fucking wonderful, but her body withheld its climax, knowing it wasn’t time yet. The otter tried to raise her hips, but it was harder than she expected.

A twinge of worry crept into her mind: it felt like she’d made a mistake. If he came, which he wouldn’t, then the cum could surely reach her fertile eggs. She tried to raise her hips again, only to get hugged by Jazz.

“H-hey, I.. I’m knotted, help me,” she uttered, starting to panic.

“It’s okay,” cooed the lynx, subtly massaging the canine’s sheath, “grind your hips, front to back, that feels the best…”

Against better judgement, she gyrated on him, stimulating and squeezing his entire length with her eager pussy, practically begging his unconscious body to cum. It really was the best, and just a second more of indulgence was worth any risk. Even pregnancy, her afflicted mind thought.

Jazz wasn’t sure he would cum, but then she felt those hefty balls – swollen after a full day of edging – twitch and jump in her palm, and knew her friend would be joining her in motherhood soon. She hugged Cytha tight, both and out of love and to hold her down, giving her man’s sperm plenty of time to wriggle through that tiny hole in the tip and invade a new girl.

It didn’t feel like the visceral creampie she’d half expected, which was a relief since that would have meant the condom failed. There was only a lacklustre, muted warmth blossoming in the depths of her abdomen, which she assumed was the fox’s cum gathering at the end of the condom and ballooning. Most of it was, and a lot of it travelled to the back to gather around the knot where the rubber ended. However, a considerable amount jetted out of that miniscule hole in the tip, pricked by the lynx herself just hours ago, allowing millions of vulpine swimmers into Cytha’s womb.

Her body felt it, and thus she was rewarded. Her toes instantly curled, her back arched, and her paws left shallow scratches in the nameless todd’s chest. She’d feel bad about that later, after recovering from a truly mind-shattering climax. Her wailing was enough for Jazz to hurriedly clamp a paw over her muzzle, making her taste the feline’s juices on those digits. Nothing else mattered in that moment, which lasted barely a minute. She felt complete. Accomplished. It was suddenly painfully obvious how so many women got knocked up all the time; they’d feel this, then demand to take the condom off and go again.

While her mind was rebooting, her pussy knew what to do; it milked him for all his worth, encouraging every drop it could tease from that tampered condom deeper and deeper, begging to get bred. It was only a few drops that made it through to her inner sanctum, barely a fraction of his total load, though it was enough. Unknown to them, except for perhaps Jasmine, the otter’s vulnerable eggs danced closer to the advancing hordes. They couldn’t know for sure how successful their plan was, and wouldn’t know until much later.

Cytha began clawing back to reality, struggling to regain control of her limbs as they all spasmed with overloaded nerves. Her fuzzy vision refocused, her strength returning, slowly putting herself back together. She could think again, having been granted ‘post nut clarity’, but that arousal remained stronger than ever. A concerningly large part of her wanted to go again, and something concerningly convincing promised it would feel even better without the condom. Paws shaking, she tried to lift herself off on weak legs, only to find it an impossible task.

The thick knot, bulging her enough to see a dull bump in the fuzz of her crotch, remained stubbornly locked in. She could feel him throbbing away, steadily adding to the sticky mess inside her tunnel. All in the condom, she hoped. Except she remembered it didn’t reach his knot, and that part was in her…

The cogs turned.

“Shit, shit!” she breathed, turning to find Jazz fingering herself nonchalantly, “get me off.”

“Mrnnff, you got yourself off hun.”

“No! I wasn’t supposed to tie, help me up. Please,” she begged, panic lining her voice.

Almost reluctantly, the lynx helped her push off of him. With the knot fully swelled, it hurt like a bitch coming out, but the fear of letting him stay in another second was all the motivation she needed. It popped out, covered in their combined juices, which horrified Cytha more than anything else. A quick glance showed similar juices running out of her yawning cunt, though it was hard to tell if it was semen of fem-cum in the pale moonlight.

“I-it’s in me.”

Jazz seemed unconcerned, “well yeah, you let him knot. The cum must’ve gone down then around. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be a mother-”

“No! I need to go, I need to get it out,” she exclaimed before running out, all the way back to her apartment, leaving little drips on the hallway carpets.

Time was of the essence. She practically threw herself into the shower, detaching the head and aiming it between her legs. A part of her felt bad, knowing she was going against that blissful feeling. She demanded that part shut up. Water sprayed inside, washing away thin traces of white until it was entirely clear. Was I too late? She thought. Cytha remained on the floor of the shower for an hour, hugging her legs and analysing that night back to front.

---

In the weeks to follow, she would be unnecessarily snappy towards her best friend, never outright accusing them of sabotaging her, but frustrated that her supporting pillar had done very little to stop her from going to far. It was primarily her fault, of course, failing to resist. The very next morning, she went out and bought some retroactive contraception, though she knew the effects weren’t foolproof. The biggest concern was that her heat dissipated then ended the day after, far earlier than it should have.

Every day, she monitored her symptoms – or lack thereof – for any signs of pregnancy. She was intimately aware of what the early stages were after extensive research when a boy had held her hand in school once. The stress was all-consuming, impacting her work life and making her feel queasy. On the day she threw up into the toilet, her worst fears became realised; she was pregnant.

Cytha stormed over to Jasmine’s apartment with accusatory frustration, ready to spit acid and shift blame, as if she didn’t hold any blame. The door was unlocked, surprisingly, and she came in to find the lynx innocently eating ice-cream on the couch, watching some kind of mundane rom-com show in short shorts and a tank top. They looked to her in surprise, spoon popping out of her lips.

“Oh hey Cytha, whatsup?”

The rage had simmered down on the walk over, and she couldn’t keep herself mad at her lifelong bestie. The stress turned inward as she fumbled her words, trying to explain through panicked breaths, “I-I think I’m pregnant, Jazz. I’m showing symptoms, I threw up just now. W-what do I do? This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Jeez, it’s alright girl, the world isn’t ending,” she said, setting her tub down upon realising the gravity of the situation. The lynx was strangely calm about it, coming over to hug her like she hadn’t just ruined her life. “The world might change a little,” she continued, “but it’s nothing you can’t handle. I’ll be right beside you! Can I see the pregnancy test?”

“What? No, I don’t have a test. The symptoms-“

“You idiot!” said Jazz, grinning ear to ear. “You’ve probably stressed yourself into vomiting from overthinking it all.”

Oh… Yeah, actually. That seems likely, she thought.

The cat herded her to their bathroom, “I’ve got a couple leftovers in here, take a test you dumby.”

Cytha was about to question the word “leftovers” when she was shoved inside, door closing on her face. She could hear her friend’s giggling through the door, and it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Yeah, maybe she was just stressing herself out. This wasn’t a big deal. With a huff, the otter rummaged through her bestie’s bathroom to find a couple of tests, picking out one to check the contents of her womb.

The minutes went by, and her anxiety crept back up. She didn’t dare go back out or talk to Jazz. She needed to know, and if it was positive, she’d use more pregnancy tests until one showed negative. Cytha sat on the closed toilet, eyes glued to the strips, waiting for a little coloured strip to confirm she’d fucked up her whole life.

Negative.

She waited well beyond the estimated time for a line to show up, and it never did. The test was negative, she wasn’t pregnant. Instantly, all of the knots in her muscles laxed, and she breathed a groan of relief.

“You good?” came Jasmine’s voice through the wall, to which she responded with laughter.

Cytha emerged victorious, holding the plastic test like it was a ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. She didn’t notice the look of disappointment hidden beneath her friend’s smile.

“Negative? Oh that’s great hun! See, just stressing yourself out is all.”

“Hahah, yeah.. I guess so,” said the otter, rubbing her neck sheepishly.

That’s when the door handle jiggled, causing both girls to snap to attention. Jasmine quickly rushed over, calling out, “I’ll get it, hold on!”

The feline hopped over and opened up her apartment, revealing a fox juggling multiple grocery bags, on the verge of dropping one. She quickly grabbed two off of him and they walked inside.

“Thanks- oh, hello,” he said, spotting the otter.

It was the fox! Jasmine’s boy toy, bringing home groceries and looking rather bashful towards her. Dread clung to her lungs, does her know??

“Hey Cytha, this is Mickey. Mick, Cytha. Yes, she’s the otter.”

Fuck, he did know.

“Heheh, heya. You alright?” he asked, looking more concerned that she would have expected. It was a strange situation, meeting a guy after riding his dick and making him cum in you. She was sure this would have been awkward for anyone, not just her.

He continued when she just stood there, looking somewhat shellshocked, “we’re good, by the way. Nice to uhh meet you.”

“N-nice to meet you too.”

Something strange was happening in her. She was feeling things she wasn’t supposed to feel. Looking at him made it ten times worse, yet she couldn’t look away. While Jazz put away groceries, she gazed at him, and he gazed at her, stirring up a familiar warmth in her belly. Cytha’s heat ended a couple weeks ago and would be a while before the next cycle, so why did it feel like it was rapidly blooming in her?

Wait, groceries? Was the todd living here? Jazz didn’t usually keep guys this long, let alone invite them to stay. She sat on the couch and watched them move around together, putting the rest of the food away. A fond look here, a lingering touch there, his paw on her belly, placed like two lovers. Was she..?

“Are you dating him?”

For once, the cat seemed to get embarrassed, struggling to meet Cytha’s eyes. “We… yeah, I am. He’s uhm,” she said, looking to Mick for approval. He nodded and put an arm around her shoulders. “He’s going to be the father of my kits, so we’re living together and… I couldn’t be happier!”

That hit her like a bombshell. Jazz pregnant?! After all these years, and finally tied down too. Cytha was speechless, and most concerningly, growing aroused. Why was it so hot that her best friend was pregnant? Why was she getting so turned on by watching him rub her belly affectionately, as if he could feel them growing in there. Her legs tensed, suddenly remembering the feeling of her thighs spread around the fox’s hips.

They whispered to each other, Jazz looking mischievous and Mick growing excited. They joined her on the couch, sitting on either side of the otter. She glanced back and forth between them, suddenly rosy-cheeked and praying they wouldn’t smell the arousal leaking from her mound. With alarming casualness, the orange fox placed a paw on her thigh.

Her pussy clenched.

What is happening to me??

“He could make you a mother too, you know,” Jazz whispered, being that devil on her shoulder once more.

“Only if you want,” said Mick, somehow being the angel in this situation, though certainly with a devilish charm.

Cytha found herself leaning into the fox, remembering the smell of the man who had cum inside her, albeit in a condom. Her body recalled the events of that night well, against her efforts to supress them; his firm body, the shape of his cock, the heat of it inside her…

“C’mon, I’ll use another condom,” he whispered, pulling her up with a gentle paw.

Mick was totally disarming. She couldn’t find a way to say no, or even yes. Cytha simply nodded as the todd led her to the bedroom, leaving his girlfriend to put the groceries away. Within seconds, she was back in that room where she’d narrowly dodged a bullet, about to dodge a second one.

This is crazy!

“I-I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“You won’t. Jazz and I never had that problem. Until she yanked it off of course.” He surprised her with a hug, reminding her of his calming warmth and scent. She looked into his eyes, the man leading her to have sex with him, and found only the most caring soul she’d ever seen. Instantly, she trusted him, and the idea of having his fox babies suddenly didn’t feel so scary.

“It’s okay, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You can trust me, Cytha.”

Dog be damned, she did trust him. And her pussy was tugging on the reins insistently.

“O-okay, be gentle…”

“Of course,” he said, leaning in close.

She squeaked when he kissed her, but the shock stopped there. He was a really good kisser, too. The otter melted into it, tasting his lips and then his tongue as he manoeuvred her onto the bed. They fell together, then they became a tangle of limbs, taking each other’s clothes off.

She blushed, seeing faint evidence of her own claw marks on his chest. She blushed harder when he lifted her shirt and unclasped her bra with surprising efficiency. On instinct, she covered her breasts, but then let those arms fall to the sides. It seemed silly to maintain such modesty when he was about to be inside her.

Mickey left her to undress the rest of the way while he rooted around in a drawer, eventually finding a sealed condom. He put it on and crawled on top of the now naked otter, pressing their hips together with his erect, vulpine shaft in plain view for her to inspect. Not noticing the hole in the tip once again, she nodded and did her best to relax.

This proved to be impossible as her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to emerge from her throat. She wasn’t even doing anything! Cytha simply lay there, legs spread for the fox lining himself up. It was far more exciting than the first time, but why?

Loss of control, she realised. This wasn’t her first time, but this would be the first time someone else did it to her. Bouncing on his sleeping body, using her toys and vibrators, those were all things she had control over. She could stop at any point with a simple command to her body. Mickey was a different entity, and sure, he’d probably stop if she asked him, but the idea that she could be under him, squirming and cumming without any input of her own was… not terrifying, no.

It was exhilarating.

He was thankfully quite gentle, as the experience was entirely different from her being on top. His shaft spread her passage, inch by inch, and would continue doing so without any action from her. Cytha’s quick breathing became a drawn-out moan as cock filled her perfectly, somehow feeling even better than when she was taking it in heat. Mick just gave her a warm grin, settling her nerves with ease as he held himself hilted, waiting for her to adjust.

True to his word, he continued being a gentleman as they fucked, taking it just as slow as she wanted. Very quickly, Cytha realised she loved being on the bottom. It just felt right, there was no better way to describe it. At least, not in the heat of the moment. Even Mick squeezing her shapely breasts – which she rarely bothered doing in her masturbatory sessions – felt exquisite, like her sensitive pillows were made to be grasped by strong, vulpine paws. It didn’t take long for her get really into it.

“Faster, please... Go harder. I-its okay,” she breathed, clinging onto his strong arms like they were buoys in a storm.

He did as commanded, pounding hard enough to rock the bed. Then, he quickly pushed her to the first climax; she clenched rhythmically, already addicted to the way he rubbed her insides so perfectly, forcing her body to spasm as pleasure wracked it remorselessly. It wasn’t quite as satisfying as before, though it did make her infinitely hornier. Without the insanities of her heat cycle mudding her thoughts, it was worrying clear how much she wanted more.

Perhaps the consequences weren’t as scary as she had originally thought. Her best friend in the whole world, Jasmine, had apparently gone through with getting knocked up, even taking the condom off herself. That was a significant comfort, knowing that if the worst happened, she’d have her bestie with her to go through. As she lay there, recovering from her orgasm as the fox continued injecting pleasure straight into her, lubricated thoughts gave way to carnal desires. If it feels this good, maybe it isn’t the worst? Suddenly, Cytha was fully aware of how ‘accidental pregnancies’ occurred.

It was going to happen to her.

“M-mick,” she uttered, causing him to stop immediately with genuine concern. He was so nice. He’d be a great father to Jazz’s children. And hers too. “Take it off…”

“Are you sure..?”

“Yes,” Cytha moaned, clenching around those deliciously thick inches, “make me a mother-!”

It was at the moment, the lynx had finished putting everything away and came to watch. Then she dropped a second bombshell: “well that’s a relief. The condom has a hole in it anyway.”

Both Cytha and Mickey turned to her, shocked.

Her fox cocked his head, “what do you mean? I bought that pack when I moved in.”

“Yeah, and I wanted your kits. I did the ol’ needle trick on all of them.”

“But those are the ones Cytha used that night!!” he exclaimed.

“T-then you really did cum in me!” cried the otter, suddenly clenching hard on that very same cock.

Mick felt it, of course, and turned his attention back to her. He held her gaze, slowly withdrawing to allow his cock to flick up when it left. The otter’s eyes fell lower, watching him purposely remove that condom then toss it aside somewhere, leaving his cock uncovered and more dangerous than ever to her eager cunt.

Fuck, why is that so hot?

He tapped it against her outer lips a few times, waiting for any kind of protest. When none came, he pushed himself back inside, now with absolutely nothing between him and her vacant womb. Jazz sat on the side of the bed, watching with a strangely predatory look as he filled her again. Cytha hadn’t expected the thin rubber to really mute the sensation all that much, but it really did. Taking the todd raw sent a shiver up her entire body, and she immediately knew; she wanted this, she wanted him to fuck his cum into her, and she wanted him to do it until she was knocked up like a good little slut.

She did as much as she could to hump back against his thrusts, loving the way he spread her tunnel so well. She wanted it all, especially that fat knot plugging her up. With surprising confidence, she demanded Mick fuck her harder, which he was more than happy to do. Their slapping hips dominated the room, challenged only by the creaking of the bedframe. Each second was unrivalled pleasure, each moment further reinforced the idea that this was the otter’s life now, and she intended to catch up on all the sex she’d denied herself. Even through it was unnecessary, Jasmine sat at the edge of the bed to offer encouraging words.

“That’s it, I told you it’d feel amaaazing. Good girl~” She leaned in closer, whispering into her best friend’s ear as her boyfriend fucked them, “we’ll look so good with swollen bellies, breasts growing larger with milk. Can you imagine?” Jazz cupped one of the otter’s boobs, which normally wouldn’t be allowed between them, but she was currently finding it rather difficult to say no to anything. The lynx continued, “I didn’t have sex with him at all the day you came over. I wanted him to cum inside you. I used the faulty condoms on purpose…”

Even getting her brains fucked out, Cytha gave them a startled look. She was about to frown and say something when Mick forced a moan out of her, allowing them to reveal more secrets: “I picked up some fertility drugs too – I saw them when I was buying the sleeping pills. They were mixed into that drink I gave you, just before…”

The otter’s attention was stolen by a knot trying to enter her pussy. It gaped her wide, though she knew she could take it, having done so before. Even as her best friend whispered their utter betrayal in their friendship, her body worked on instinct; her legs wrapped around him and pulled, finally getting that knot to schlorp into her pussy. Cytha moaned wantonly, now subject to the todd’s micro thrusts grinding his thickness right into her g-spot.

“It was unbelievable that you didn’t get pregnant. You could have won the lottery with the kind of luck you had that night. But now it doesn’t matter,” she cooed, nuzzling against the otter’s cheek. “Let’s raise our kids together~”

Right on cue, Mickey snarled and hunched over, signalling the end of the beginning. This time, Cytha definitely felt a surge of heat flood into her body, and that sent her into squirming, wailing bliss. Feminine fluids gushed to join his seed, giving those vulpine swimmers the best chance to reach her eggs. Like before, her inner walls milked him for all his worth, except this time she clenched those muscles on purpose, fully aware of the consequences and inviting them herself. The fox groaned as his load flooded into her, still gently rocking his hips, much to her delight.

At the height of mountainous climax, she barely noticed when Jazz swung a leg over her head, nor did she object when the lynx lowered their sopping cunt onto her mouth. The otter definitely wasn’t a lesbian, but she surprised herself with how eagerly she ate out the lynx.

The three of them, now intertwined in their fates, gyrated against each other until Mick’s knot had started softening. Just when he started fucking a second load into her, his sperm found the eggs and wriggled inside.

---

Cytha’s life didn’t change all that much. Well, it changed significantly, but she was still her, as academic as ever. Her career wouldn’t suffer; maternity leave was quite normal and accepted. The future was still bright and promising, there were just some plans that were happening sooner rather than later. If anything, her life was better.

Cradling her ever-so-slightly bulging tummy, the otter scrolled through various houses on her computer, searching for just the right one. One big master bedroom with space for the largest of beds, and two more bedrooms for her and Jasmine’s offspring. By combining the funds of three people, they’d be able to afford such a thing this early in life with only a minor mortgage. She scrolled past a home with too many bedrooms, ignoring it for its larger price, then scrolled back up.

They’d confirmed that she and Jazz were carrying one each, though that didn’t have to be the end of it. The thought of getting knocked up again sent a stir through her loins, and once again her pussy did the thinking. Cytha refined the search to three- no, four-bedroom houses – plus the master bedroom – because it was only fair that her bestie should get another one as well. The loan increase for two more bedrooms would be considerable, but not impossible. And if their second round with Mickey produced twins or more, then the kids would have to bunk up. She giggled to herself, rubbing her swollen belly with glee that would have made the otter from months ago absolutely horrified.

Consequences be damned, I’ll do it again.