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Chapter 7: Butt-rape and Bubbles

John came back around five o' clock, and it was obvious to the rest of the Harris household that he was drunk. Though John could hold his liquor, there was a glassiness to his blue eyes, a sarcastic smirking to his lips that usually wasn't there unless he'd been down at the bar. He came in looking dizzily happy, even humming to himself. The rest of the family was gathered in the living room. Debra had insisted that they wait for John to come home before they discussed the children's punishment. When John entered the living room still humming under his breath, they were sitting around looking tense and awkward.

Tammy was huddled in the sofa chair in tight jeans and a teeny pink shirt that showed her slender midriff. She was hugging her knees sadly to her chest, the big silver loops in her ears twinkling in the lamp light and her mascara-eyes fearfully avoiding those of her mother.

David was sitting on the floor with his back to the coffee table. His face was hidden behind a comic book and headphones were on his ears, blasting away with static and shrieking guitars. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a black jacket, baggy jeans, and white sneakers. He glanced over his comic book when his father came in, and after receiving a nod from Debra, he took his headphones off and turned off his ipod.

Debra was sitting stiff and prim on the couch in khaki slacks and a blue blouse. She looked nervous and strained. Her short, pretty fingers were cradling a steaming cup of coffee that she sipped every now and then with red lips that did not stain the cup. Seeing her husband's tall body fill the doorway, she set her coffee aside and looked him over.

John had his paws shoved in his pockets, his clothes were sloppily fastened, and he was grinning, his dark mane a tousled mess in his eyes. The rest of the family stared at him: after an afternoon of getting sloshed, John rarely returned home smiling.

John laughed to himself and sat on the armrest near Debra: little did they know he'd just come from having his dick sucked in an alley. John had stood there with his butt against the cold bricks, his eyes closed as that hot mouth slurped at him, and when it was over, the boy had asked him curiously, "So who's Tammy?"

The bane of my existence, John thought now, giving Tammy a lusty once-over that made his son's nostrils flare.

"First of all," John said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He pressed his palms together and closed his eyes as he said, "Please tell me the two of you have been using protection!" He stared hard at his son. "You have, haven't you? Because I'll tell you right now, if a pup comes of this, you're both out on your asses --"

"John!" Debra shrilled.

John held up his paw to Debra, silently telling her to keep quiet. He even glared at her, and her heart leapt from this cold stare. He knew! And of course he knew: she looked so guilty and nervous that she might as well have held up a sign announcing what she'd done. She and David couldn't even look at each other!

"We used a condom," David lied with a little smile, "all seventy-seven times."

John glowered. "I'm getting sick of your shit, David. You hear me? And if you open a mouth to me again, I'll make sure you don't leave your room until Christmas break!"

They glared at each other.

John jerked up from the couch with an angry heave of his chest. The others tensed, but he only crammed his fists in his pockets and stared down at his son, chewing darkly on something in his cheek, chewing as if on his own thoughts. He glanced between the two teenagers and shook his head. "Fucking your own sister. The two of you make me sick. I ever catch you at it again, and it's military school, David. I mean it."

David's chest heaved, but he said nothing.

John smiled nastily and went on. "You'll get plenty of action there. Lots of little faggots will gang up on you in the shower if you're a bad little cadet. A nice rape in the ass might cool your heels."

"John!" Debra burst, unable to contain herself any longer. "That's enough! Goddamn it -- that's enough!" She slammed her fists on her knees, her long white mane tossing around her ears.

"Why, Debra?" John said quietly, his lips twisting in a mocking smile. "Does hearing about widdle David taking it in the ass get your juices going?" He licked his lips, glaring at his wife's shock and indignation.

"Yeah, I know about you," John went on, moving across the room to stand over Debra. "You've wanted to fuck David since you first saw him, haven't you? Haven't you, you dirty slut!"

Tammy gave a soft scream when John smacked his wife across the face. Debra sat there a moment, her head bowed, her white mane shielding her expression. She heaved a sob, and with her breasts shuddering, she stood and hurried from the room.

John turned to the two kids, who were both glaring at him.

"I'd ground you both but you'd just spend the time fucking each other," John said as Debra's little high heels thunked rapidly up the stairs. "So here's what I'll do: David, you stay out of this house until seven o' clock, understand? I don't care what you do: go rob a bank. Just don't ever let me catch you in this house alone with Tammy! And as for you --"

David ground his teeth, his entire body tensing when his father turned his glinting blue eyes on Tammy. Tammy looked so small and angry and frightened in John's shadow that David felt the intense need to stand between them. But he kept where he was: making any sudden movement was a sure way to receive a smack just like Debra.

"Have that perky little ass in this house by four o' clock sharp everyday. That gives you plenty of time to find a ride home and be here with the door locked behind you. Understand, Tammy?"

Tammy nodded miserably, and John went on.

"No more phone calls. No more going out. No more dates. After what you two did, I should bury you both alive before I let you do it again. Fucking nasty-ass teenagers." He shook his head, still chewing darkly at his cheek.

David went tense all over when his father took another step toward Tammy. Tammy bowed her head and trembled, but John only reached out, and with his finger, he lifted her chin. Their eyes met, and she looked so frightened! She shivered and blinked out tears, terribly afraid of the lust shining clear in those drunken eyes. But John only smiled gently at her and whispered, "When you're ready to take it from a real male, come to me."

John laughed coldly at the sudden flash of anger in David's eyes, then turned and left the room. As he was going up the stairs, he could hear David turn his ipod back on. The music was blasting and the boy had no doubt turned it back on so that John wouldn't guess what they were doing in there, but he knew: David was holding Tammy, whispering something to her, and he could hear the pretty little bitch crying. He laughed to himself again. If he had seen Tammy before he'd met Debra, he would have had that little girl taking it on her knees from Daddy and loving it.

Still climbing the stairs, John winced as his own vicious thoughts came echoing back at him. God, he was such an ass when he was drunk . . . He swayed a little unsteadily into the banister as he came to the second landing. Sunlight streamed in through the hallway windows, rosy pink and purple. Twilight. He could hear Debra in their bedroom: the creak of drawers being yanked open, the thunk of clothes hitting the bed sheets. John shuffled up the shadowy hall and pushed the bedroom door open. Debra was standing at the edge of the bed, a pile of clothes in her arms, tears smearing her mascara to her white cheeks. A suitcase was open on the bed. John groaned. Not again.

"Honey," John wheedled, coming into the room.

Debra ignored him and went back to packing. He closed his arms around her from behind and gave her neck a few sloppy kisses that she ignored with an angry shake of her head. Her big breasts were heaving with her little sniffs and gasps.

"No, John, I mean it this time," she said, sounding as if she had a head cold. "I'm l-leaving. I can't take this shit anymore! I'm taking Tammy and --"

"The hell you are!" John snarled, forcing her around by the arm.

Debra's mane tossed as she was jerked around. She stared at John with large, angry eyes. "Of course not! God forbid I take Tammy away from you!" She pushed John off and hurried into the bathroom, where she ripped the medicine cabinet open and started gathering her makeup. She slammed the cabinet shut again and saw John reflected in the glass behind her. His curly mane was wild and unkempt and his blue eyes were alight with liquor.

"This has nothing to do with Tammy --"

"The hell it doesn't!" Debra sobbed, whirling around. "I saw you, John! When we walked in on them, you were hard! Hard!" She pushed past him and back into the bedroom, where she dumped all her makeup into the suitcase.

John followed her, tossing his paws. "Of course I was hard! Your hot daughter is wearing nothing but socks, she's touching herself, and she's sitting on the counter with her legs spread! I'd have to lack a pulse to have not gotten hard --"

"Oh, don't give me those bullshit excuses!" Debra hissed, straightening up and squeezing her eyes shut. She glared at her husband and went on with a heave of her breasts, "Tammy is your daughter, John! Your daughter! And you've been lusting after her since god only knows when --"

"Tammy is not my daughter!" John roared over her. He grabbed the suitcase by the handle and ripped it from the bed. Debra cried out angrily as everything went flying. She scrambled around with tearstained cheeks, sobbing as she gathering everything to her breast, but John grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her around until she was facing him.

"And what about you? You two-timing piece of shit! You fucked David, didn't you?"

He waited, and when Debra straightened up with a defiant glint in her eye, he smacked her to the bed. Everything in her arms went flying across the room, and she screamed to suddenly find John on top of her. She swung wildly at him, blinded by her tears. John grabbed her wrists and they were twisting against each other when she heard the jingle of his belt unbuckling.

"NO!" Debra roared. "Never again -- never!" She shoved John off and staggered for the bathroom. One of her high heels broke and she fell hard. John was on top of her in seconds. She felt him reach under and rip her pants open. She cried out as they were yanked impatiently over her ass, revealing her stringy pink panties and how they were sinking in her ass cheeks from the struggle. She twisted to get away, but that only helped the pants come down until they were tangled around her ankles. She could hear John unzipping his pants, fumbling to get his hard-on free as he muttered under his breath, "I'll fuck you so good -- I'll show you what a real male is -- no, be still! You're gonna take it on your knees like the whore that you are!"

Debra was struggling to get up and crawl away. She was on her paws and knees when John grabbed her by the mane and pulled her back. She screamed again: he was frantically tugging at her blouse, his teeth pinching her neck, his tongue licking her. She could feel the juices of her arousal coming, oozing in her panties, and sought to fight them down. He ripped her blouse clean open and she saw her own heaving bosom bounce free, the points of her bra jutting forward. He squeezed her tits through the bra and she shivered in his strong arms: John hadn't touched her like this for so long, and suddenly, she missed it so desperately, his touch. Her hammering heart slowed as he reached within the folds of her torn blouse. Her bra was snapped off with a deft skill that made her tits bounce heavily as they came free. Then his paws were all over her, squeezing her breasts, reaching down into her panties to touch and explore that hot, moist place he had neglected for so long. She shivered and whimpered and whispered his name, and suddenly, he pushed her forward. She caught herself on her paws and closed her eyes: he grabbed the back of her panties and yanked them down. His thumbs spread her ass cheeks, and she couldn't believe it when his cock nudged that tight pink knot under her tail.

"J-John, wait, n-no --"

"Yes!" John whispered, and Debra let out another scream when his cock sank hard and fast in her ass. She made a feeble attempt to escape, but he grabbed her neck and slammed her to the bathroom tiles. She was laying half in the bathroom door now. Her legs were on the bedroom carpet and she felt the scorching burn of it when John started pounding her hard. He was grunting and growling, his fangs flashing, his mane in his eyes as he punched his cock in her ass with every ounce of strength he could muster. Debra was such a slight thing that she was soon sliding across the carpet under his blows. She lay there on her smashed breasts, her ass in the air as John held her down and fucked her, hissing between grunts, "This is what you deserve! Fucking my own goddamned son behind my back -- Who's fucking you! Say it! Or I swear to god I'll fuck you so deep --"

"John! John is fucking me!" Debra sobbed into the tiles.

John pulled her up, and clutching her big breasts in his paws, he moved himself against her more slowly. She was trembling with sobs. He put a few sloppy kisses on her neck and was glad to hear her sigh from them. He spread her thighs wide and touched her sex: she was still dripping, that little clit still a hard, throbbing knot above her pussy lips. He fingered her clit as he moved inside of her. Her breasts were riding with his thrusts and little hiccupping sobs came from her lips and their smeared lipstick.

"Call me Daddy when I fuck you," John whispered, hooking a finger in her mouth. He felt her tongue flex against his finger when she sobbed and whispered, "Daddy . . . oh, D-Daddy . . ."

"That's right," John whispered in her ear. "And are you going to fuck David again?" He closed his paws tight over her titties and massaged them. "Hmm?" he said, kissing her neck.

"No, D-Daddy . . ."

"That's my girl . . ." John suddenly pushed her down to the floor again. She heard him sigh and his cock flinched, releasing in her ass. He pulled himself carefully out, then gave her ass a playful smack and told her to go wash up, saying that it wasn't the first time he'd taken her ass and he would gladly do it again wilder and rougher if he ever found out she had been with David another time.

Debra lay there with her panties and her pants tangled around her ankles, her bra hanging loose around her shoulders, her blouse torn. She didn't get up. She was too miserable. She could hear John moving around the room, the slam of drawers, the clatter of her makeup. He was cleaning up, putting her clothes back in the dresser for her. She buried her face in her arms and wept hard.

After a pause, she felt John hovering over her. He pushed her gently onto her back and whispered apologetically, "Oh, honey . . ."

"You hadn't t-touched me for so l-long --!"

"I know, baby," John whispered.

Blinded by tears, she saw him kneel down and start removing her clothes. He pulled her pants from her ankles, followed by her panties. She saw his eyes trace over her naked hips and sex with a quiet hunger that made her feel a little satisfied: if he still wanted her even after everything that happened today, she -- in her bitter insecurity -- would cling to him.

"I'm a f-female, John," Debra went on, as sulky as a teenager. "I need to be d-desired and you didn't seem to w-want me anymore --"

"How could I not want you?" John asked quietly. He was pulling off her blouse, taking her loose bra from her arms. He gathered her soft, naked body to his chest and she felt a thrill of happiness when he carried her into the bathroom. He laid her carefully in the tub, then turned on the water.

It was a huge tub, huge enough to hold four wolves, at least. The rim was lined in old candle stubs and the shelves held bowls of potpourri that Debra had insisted on distributing throughout the house. She lay back in the tub, quietly sniffing as water and foamy bubbles started filling it. She watched with growing affection as John went around lighting all the candles. He turned the lights off now, and they were alone together in the softly glowing light. She saw him step unsteadily out of his pants and boxers, but he was still in his shirt and wristwatch when he joined her in the bath. He was so drunk. She laughed.

John laughed too, leaning forward between his wife's legs as the foamy bubbles rose around them. "What's so funny?" he whispered, pushing her mane back from her eyes with his nose.

"You're still in your shirt. And, oh, baby, your watch is getting wet --!"

John laughed again. "You're still in your heels." So saying, he lifted Debra's leg from the water and kissed the inner curve of her thigh: her high heels were indeed still on her feet. She could see the severed heel of the broken one laying on the carpet in the bedroom beyond.

John was sucking on her thigh now. "Mmm, I wanna go down on you," he complained. "Fucking water . . ." He leaned down and suckled her breasts instead. She laughed at him, feeling like a girl.

The water was getting too high now and John turned the knob off with his tail. "Oh, baby," he whispered, sucking tenderly on her nipple, "let's never fight again. I don't like doing those things to you --"

"I know I should never have let him, John, but you hadn't touched me in so long --"

"I know, honey," he said, giving her lips a sloppy, drunken kiss. "I'll make it up to you . . ."

Debra arched her back and gave a little gasp of delight: John's cock squelched inside of her under the water, pushing between her pussy lips. He put her legs on his shoulders as he moved carefully inside, and as they kissed and moaned in the candlelight, her high heels hung over his shoulders and rocked with his thrusts.