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A creak in the bed was all that it took for Molleen's eyes to open in a flash. She had never been a deep sleeper, easily disturbed and prone to long bouts of maddening insomnia. It was a blessing to count even a paltry four hours of actual rest, and a true miracle for an entire night. It was frustrating to her to no small degree; though, over the years, she had grown quite accustomed to it. It was simply a part of her life, a small nuance that almost seemed typical and normal.

Almost, but not quite. Molleen yawned through widely parted jaws, glaring blearily towards the accursed source of the disturbance, but feeling none of the malice that was conveyed in her eyes as she stared at it. It was so hard for her to be upset at it; it never truly meant any harm. It wasn't even aware of the fact that it was a disturbance at all, or that she frequently thought of it as such. Nevertheless, as she looked upon the slumbering man beside her, taking in his tussled hair, his closed lids and squared face, she thought of it only as an ironic term of endearment. He was a disturbance—her disturbance—and she rather enjoyed that aspect about him.

He didn't know that, of course. He wasn't aware of the fact that he was hers in a sense, that she had laid claim to him the moment that he had brought her home. He wasn't aware of the fact that she often watched him sleep, content to lie awake in bed and just stare at him into the wee hours of the morning when she could have surely been doing anything else. And, by anything else, she often referred to the various things that she did around the house without his knowing on his behalf. Clothes that were often thrown haphazardly towards hampers that needed sorting, keys that often found their way in between the couch cushions, furniture that needed dusting, things that needed organizing; she was the epitome of a good mate by anyone's standards, or so she assumed if she could have been so bold.

Yes, by that and that alone—her yearning to be good to him—he was certainly hers. But, there again, he didn't actually know that. Admittedly, that was a sharp thorn in her side; he didn't know, nor could he, not if she wished to remain his. It wasn't particularly fair to her—that her feelings and emotions would always have to remain a secret—but, that was simply another irritating fact of life: her life, because she was different.

He didn't know that either; he didn't know that she was different. At least, not by the same standards that she knew that she was different. He knew that she was long lived for what she was, that she had skirted death by the standards of her genome, and he often celebrated that fact. He seemed to be proud of her comparatively long life, and while it was largely a clever deception on her part, it was easy to feel pride in herself because of it. He felt like he was truly doing something good by her, that her extended existence in the world was somehow attributed solely due to something that he had imparted on her. Granted that while providing her meals, drink, and a home to stay in were all substantially important to her life, they were all only a small part of the greater truth.

But, it was a truth that she couldn't divulge, and again, that wasn't a particularly easy pill to swallow. It was necessary, however; or, at the very least, that was all that she could assume about it. Her differences were simply too great to divulge to anyone, even to one that she trusted beyond all others. She wasn't normal; she wasn't human either. She didn't even appear to be human, not in any regard whenever her human was around. He had only ever seen her just as he always had since the day they met: a faithful companion, a quiet confidant, man's best friend.

Molleen was a dog, a quadruped, a canine to every naked eye. Spotted black and white from the tip of her nose all the way down to her wagging tail, she seemed to be just an ordinary Dalmatian, hardly different than thousands of others like her, another simple beast, and she liked to think that she played the part quite well. A tail wag here, a perked ear there, and the occasional overzealous drag of the tongue across the cheek. Fetch the ball, bring it back, lavish in the affectionate petting (which she was admittedly fond of), relieve herself outside and not on the carpet, wash, rinse, repeat. It was all so simple, and so very demeaning.

But it was a necessary evil, and for him, she would accept those burdens and be that companion for all of his life if that was what it took to stay with him. It wasn't exactly what she wanted; but, she could settle for it, at least for the foreseeable future. Perhaps there would come a day—a very special, very miraculous day—that she would reveal her closest guarded secret to him. Perhaps, someday, her true wants and desires would be met.

However, that day was not coming anytime soon, and instead, Molleen simply made do with what she had in the present, which was exactly the same thing that she'd always had. She watched her human sleep, smiling to herself as he snored so blissfully unware of her intrusion. The man was cute in a sense, disarming in a way that wasn't at all typical of his large and imposing stature when he was awake. He was disheveled and messy, a stark contrast to the norm of his well put together image. While it may have been rude to consider, she always found that he seemed more natural in slumber than he did during his waking hours. It wasn't that she assumed that he was fake or disingenuous as a conscious person; his bold personality was merely a part of the identity that he had forged through years of tedious effort and good old fashioned hard work. It was who he truly was in a sense, and she had a great deal of respect for him because of that.

However, beyond the judgement and critical, if not bias gaze of society, he was rather like a large child. He was playful and jovial, a bit mischievous, and certainly fun-loving if their many games of keep-away were anything to go by, even though they were always a bit one sided—she was so much faster on four legs than he on two. At night, after he showered and bedded himself, the façade of a learned, scrupulous man was washed away, leaving only a tender spirit that valued her company, and left the troubles of the world far beyond the front door.

She liked that about him; his business rarely followed him home. He didn't like to burden her with the things that he had to endure. He didn't like to be the man that he was in front of everyone else once the door was closed. He was just another man; her man. A goofy, tall, muscular if not somewhat pudgy around the sides man named Wesley, or perhaps Doctor for all those who weren't fortunate enough to know him by his first name.

Molleen smiled in the darkness; she was extremely proud of that fact, though the satisfaction she felt might have been somewhat conceited of her in retrospect. Whether or not that was true, she honestly didn't care. The pride she felt was far too strong for her to be concerned by piteous notions of modesty. What reason did she have to be modest? Wesley was a celebrated surgeon; he was highly sought after, extremely talented, in demand, and, unlike her if she were to be honest about it, humbled by his practice. She had been fortunate enough—extremely so—to have been adopted by him some twenty years ago, and every moment had been utterly spectacular!

Why shouldn't she be proud?! There was no question about it in her mind; she had every right to be! It wasn't every dog—loosely considering—that enjoyed a life like she did. The pride was justified! It would have been insulting, not only to herself, but to Wesley had she felt anything but pride in him! Perhaps love too required some form of recognition, yes. Granted, it was of the unrequited type, at least of the kind that she wanted to have with the man; but, that was neither here nor there, and was of an entirely different manner altogether.

It still stung nevertheless, and Molleen frowned as she pondered it. Love: what was it but a fickle thing with so many meanings? She had love for Wesley, just as he had love for her; but, they were hardly the same thing. His love was of a platonic nature, of a kind that was shared between friends and family, deeply felt, to be sure; though, not what her own love was. Granted, she loved him similarly; she cherished him more deeply than any other, considered him to be a part of her family; and yet, she wanted so much more than that. She wanted what most women wanted of their paramour: that deep, intimate connection that could only be shared by two individuals truly in love. The sacrifice of individuality in a heated moment of passion that took two bodies and made them one, the ultimate declaration of affection and longing.

It was a most poetic way of thinking that merely described a lewd, baser instinct of all mammals. Molleen wanted Wesley to fuck her silly. She wanted him to take her in every orifice and wear his musty scent like a dirty perfume and reek of him for days. She wanted him to make her feel filthy and grimy, to leave her a quivering mess of sweat and bodily fluids to be used again and again to satisfy his primal urges. She wanted him to abuse her in ways that left her sore and broken and begging for more! That was the brutal honesty of the matter. She wanted it; she craved it!

But, she could never have it, and that was the ugliest truth. Molleen was as close to him as she ever would be, lying in bed, quietly watching him. He was literally close enough for her to touch; yet, he might have just as well have been on the other side of the world when it came to her darker desires. Even as Wesley snorted and rolled over, latched onto her suddenly and forced her body into his own, he still seemed absolutely unobtainable. He was her master; she was his pet. Sunrise, sunset, the nature of the world and the cruelty that was her reality.

Nevertheless, the closeness still felt nice. Even within the disparity of her new-found lamentations, Molleen could appreciate the firmness that she found herself entrapped within. The heat that radiated off of Wesley's body, the gentle thrumming of his heartbeat against her ears, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as his breath washed over the crown of her head, it was soothing, if not arousing to no small degree in consideration to her prior musings. She was also quite a bit smaller than he was, enough so that she found that her lithesome form fit quite nicely in between the crook of his neck and the base of his hips. It was a shame then that her haunches were closed and that their close proximately allotted her no way with which to open them discreetly and bare the pliable flesh that they concealed to the apparently girthy mass that boldly resided upon her stifle.

She grunted in frustration, but kept the sound far and away from disturbing her bed mate. She didn't want to ruin what little moment she had found with him, after all, even if that moment did little more than make her feel all hot-and-bothered. For goodness sake, it was pressed up against her! She could feel it throbbing! All that needed to be done was to move her quivering thigh up and out of the way but for a single second and that heady chunk of man meat would be sandwiched right where she wanted it to be!

What in the darkest circles of hell was stopping her?! She gritted her teeth; but then, she went lax and gawked blankly into the darkness as she actually considered the idea. What was stopping her? Granted, the motion wasn't going to be inconspicuous by any means; but, would it actually be all that obvious? Obvious, when given her current predicament, of course referred to wakening Wesley and potentially risked being caught in the act. But, would it really be jarring enough to rouse him, even if she was careful? Curious of the possibilities that faced her, Molleen carefully scrutinized the man. She listened to his breathing since she couldn't see his face from beneath his chin. It was slow and regular, patterned like a man distant from the world. Slowly, carefully, she leaned one of her ears against his chest. His heart beat steadily, drumming out a rhythmic cadence that was devoid of excitement. He we still, his muscles flaccid and completely relaxed. She could feel the lower part of his belly against her paws as her haunches were tucked in between them. Boldly, she flexed her toes, pressing them gingerly against his soft flesh and waiting with bated breath for him to stir.

He didn't; nothing about the man's slumbering demeanor had changed at all. Molleen's heart thundered in her chest. For all intents and purposes, Wesley was all but dead to the world. What she had in mind—what she wanted to do—was conceivable to her lust-addled mind. Conceivable, though not without dire consequences, and she bit her lip. The morality of it all, the wrongness of taking what she wanted without Wesley's permission, weighed upon her mind; but, only half as heavily as did the thought of being caught. What would he do to her, she wondered? Lifting her leg was one thing; but, the rest was of an entirely different taboo nature. She wasn't simply going to be satisfied with him touching her; by and large, that was merely step one of her sinful endeavors. Hardly, if she followed through, it would only be to fruition, and by that, of course, she sought orgasm. Yet, to achieve such a thing, she would have to move about. Subtly, of course; but, the movement was an integral part of the act, and she wasn't at all certain about her abilities to remain both subtle enough to keep Wesley asleep, and firm enough to get off on it.

Internally, the struggle raged within Mollleen's mind. On the one paw, she all but knew that she could get away it. Lifting her paw would be of no consequence; that was one thing that she was certain of. Even if the action woke Wesley, the man would likely think nothing more of it than her trying to get comfortable. Dogs shifted in their sleep all the time, just like human beings did. It was the follow through that was difficult for her. She doubted—or, at the very least wanted to—that Wesley would wake up in the sparse amount of time that she needed. The thought alone and taboo nature of the very idea had her plenty worked up; she assumed that only a few dozen seconds or so of quietly grinding away would take her to the edge. On the other paw, however, was the niggling thought of Wesley coming to right in the middle of the act, and that was terrifying to consider. It would be far too obvious to play off under those circumstances; she would be caught, plain and simple, and from there, the implications were hardly comforting. At best, Wesley would consider the act his own and the shame that he would likely feel having forced himself on his own pet would drive a wedge between them so profound that she would never be allowed in his bed again. Or, perhaps he would appropriately cast the blame onto her with similar results only with the added consequence of indefinitely losing his trust and love. Harrowing though it was to consider, the worst was infinitely more so in that it further included being thrown out of his home and life forever.

The decisions were stifling; had she been in her right mind, surely there would have been no decisions for her to consider at all. But, the lust was driving her mad. The wont—the yearning desire—it burned as strongly within her loins as it did her mind. All she wanted was a taste, something tangible for her to hold onto. She glanced up into the darkness; Wesley wouldn't know; she would be careful. Her haunch shuddered as she lifted it up. He wasn't going to wake up, she considered (hoped); he was far too tired when he went to bed. She could feel his thickness sliding away from her stifle, closer and closer to falling free. But, she needed to take it slowly, carefully; she couldn't afford a single mistake, and it took all of her will power not to tremble. Whether it was out of anticipation, or terror, she could not be sure. She bit her lip, feeling Wesley's naked tip slip across her knee as her leg lifted further, and very nearly gasped as it suddenly fell to slap the inside of her resting thigh.

Molleen all but froze in that crucial moment; she didn't dare to breathe and begged of her body to be still as the anxiety swept through her like a tumultuous thunderstorm. It was her only opportunity to abandon her lewd behavior and escape unscathed, her one chance to pass it off as a subconscious act and roll away from him if he awoke. It afforded her but a fleeting moment of clarity within her hormonal mind to again consider the depravity of her actions, and encouraged her to stop before she committed to something indelible. But, when Wesley never stirred after some many minutes spent frozen in the darkness, Molleen instead embraced the thrill of a most taboo decadence, and rejoiced in the fact that he often slept nude.

As slowly as she had lifted her haunch, Molleen gradually closed it, affording great attention to her paw as to avoid raking her claws against the man's belly, and avoided the catastrophe of inadvertently scratching him with a lewd grin of satisfaction on her muzzle. Between her thighs, she felt Wesley's thick spire throbbing, bobbing delightfully against her swollen and surely drooling lips. It sent shivers down her spine, shivers that were all but impossible for her to resist, the type of which forced a clonic spasm of her hips against him.

She sucked in a raspy, quavering breath; her clitoris throbbed, a muted pleasure as she again evaluated Wesley's consciousness. The movement had been jarring and rough, uncalculated and more than enough to rouse a man not truly at rest, and, if he awoke, the worst of her fears would surely be realized. Fear gripped at her; her blood ran cold and she felt an icy chill lap at her skin. Wesley groaned, a coarse gravely sound that came from deep within his throat; he ground his teeth with a racket akin to chewing on ice. He smacked his lips and drew in a raucous breath that was then forced passed his lips with a boisterous snore.

And then, he was still again. Seconds ticked by; minutes. Wesley didn't move, and Molleen sighed quietly in relief. The luck of the devil was surely with her; or, perhaps the monster by the same name merely wanted to see the show. Whatever the case might have been, the man was still asleep, and, if her horribly mistimed and mismanaged thrust was anything to go by, she was quite confident that the seconds to come would see her into absolute bliss!

Admittedly, a tickling of doubt persisted in Molleen's mind. What she was doing to Wesley was wrong—grossly so—on several significant levels which included deceit and betrayal, perhaps even molestation and abuse; but, she couldn't really believe in the last of those notions in their entirety. It wasn't as though she was going to hurt him in any way. She was going to use him, granted, but not to cause him harm. At worst, Wesley would likely wake up a bit stiffer than normal; but, she knew throughout years of living with the man that he was more than capable of handling such a minor issue by himself. She wasn't opposed to helping him; however, the reasons for her not being involved in those matters was quite clear.

In this way, she considered, the both of them would get what they wanted, and only she would be privy to it. What was one more secret for her to keep from him? The guilt would come, she was sure of that; the doubts wouldn't linger otherwise. However, it could certainly wait for her to enjoy herself for a few seconds at least. In the darkness, she turned her head into Wesley's chest, her acute sense of hearing her only lifeline for what was about to come. If anything about him changed—his breathing, his heartrate, his movements—no matter how minute, she would cease everything and roll away. It only afforded her a small degree of anonymity and safety; but, she felt strangely confident that it would be enough.

Feeling bold, frightened, and unquestionably horny, Molleen gently rolled her hips forwards, dragging her parted lips along the length of Wesley's entrapped shaft. Lightning struck her brain; the man remained still. She did it again, only ever so timidly increasing the pressure. Her clitoris grazed his glans and she shivered. Another languid roll, another glorious shock, and she didn't stop. Four more times, up and down his length, grinding her overly sensitive nub against him, and her silky walls seized and undulated, the stimulation and excitement proving far too much for her to handle. She sighed breathlessly as she came, exhaling a quivering breath across Wesley's chest as she rode out waves of bliss until they brought her crashing down against the golden shores of a most satisfying afterglow.

It hadn't lasted nearly as long as she had predicted; nevertheless, she was thankful that it had been so hastily done. The seconds ticked by as she laid against him completely content; all the while Wesley slept on entirely unaware of what had just transpired. Like she had predicted, however, the thought of her having just taken advantage of her closest friend had, in fact, levied upon her a most trifling sense of guilt; not of a kind that completely ruined the moment, but enough so that she was aware of it nevertheless.

Molleen's sex quivered slightly, and she shuddered right along with it. It wasn't quite as satisfying as it had been when the act had been nothing more than a lewd consideration. It was enjoyable to be sure; however, it left only a lingering feeling of regret deep within the pit of her stomach. Wesley wasn't just some toy there for her amusement; but, she had certainly used him like one, and while her body felt pleasantly warm, her heart and stomach felt conspicuously heavy. Her mind had even managed to recover enough to interject on the matter, and the wisdom that it suddenly imparted upon her was admittedly something that she had failed to consider in the first place.

How was she going to disentangle herself from Wesley now that she had gone and made a mess of him? She couldn't simply lie there and wait for him to wake up; that would've surely been no better than had he came to during the act itself! It was obvious, blatantly so, that his groin was soaked in her fluids. Even if he managed to sleep long enough until they dried, the pungent aroma of canine lubricant would've been a dead giveaway to her sins. Regardless of that notion, Wesley wasn't likely to sleep much longer anyhow as she glanced at the clock.

Molleen cursed internally at the accusatory, glowing, red digits. It was a quarter past five a.m., leaving a paltry fifteen minutes until the alarm went off. Damn his unfavorable schedule, she thought! The hours of a surgeon were truly ridiculous by any normal human's standards! Just who in the hell started a twelve-hour rotation at five thirty in the morning anyway?! She needed to act fast, and soon if she had any hope of mitigating an oncoming disaster of possibly epic proportions! Driven by a sheer and sudden panic, the anxious canine considered rolling away from the man as her only option, and promptly acted on the idea by roughly shoving her paws into his pliable flesh, only to grow cold again as the arm that she had forgotten was wrapped around her barrel held fast to her.

She had kicked him! A veritable slew of colorful words exploded in her mind! Not only had she failed to escape her harrowing situation, but she had committed to one surefire way to alert him to her travesties! An errant twitch of her hips had been one thing—one that had elicited a response in the man, as she horrifyingly recalled—but blatantly kicking him was of an entirely different caliber altogether! And, if only to compound the terror and validate the fear that she felt coursing through her veins, Wesley grunted vociferously and seemingly moved with purpose. He lifted his head from his pillow and rotated around to lie upon his back, drawing his arm along the length of her body in the process. He slowly drew his hands across his face and groaned into them, stifling a yawn before he sat up into the darkness.

Molleen's heart could have stopped in those most terrifying moments and she liked to think that she would've been better off if it had. She was soon to be much worse than dead anyhow, she considered, once Wesley regained his senses and realized what she had done. She was as good as evicted; her life was surely over! In the darkness, the man reached out and touched her side, patting her gently as she made a brilliant effort of becoming much smaller than she actually was. When his hand didn't linger, and he threw his side of the sheets away, she squeezed her eyes closed and waited for punishment, for the harsh judgement that would soon reign down upon her.

When it never came, and the bed instead creaked as Wesley stood up to exit the room, Molleen dared to open her eyes. A pale light soon flooded into the room from the hallway, preceding the familiar tinkling of Wesley relieving himself in the toilet before he flushed and started the water for a proper shower. She waited in the poorly illuminated darkness for several tense moments, all but certain that he had noticed her essence upon his groin by then. She was hardly exonerated; far from it, she thought. But, when he didn't return, and when the dull thump of the shower door closing into its magnetic jamb echoed forth from the bathroom, Molleen released a breath that she hadn't even been aware of.

Wesley's tuneless voice resounded into the darkness as he sang in the shower, and the canine felt all but floored by her unbelievable good fortune. He hadn't noticed; she had gotten away with it! Admittedly, that thought made her actions feel like a crime and, perhaps, they had been in retrospect. Nevertheless, it couldn't squash the somewhat giddy feeling that she had about it all! Under a veil of darkness, amidst a restful night, she—Molleen—had successfully experienced her first sexual dalliance with the only man that she wanted! It made her feel bold, if not a bit skanky even! And the sheer thrill of it all had been more than tantalizing, excitement beyond anything that she had ever experienced before! Even if she had only narrowly avoided severe consequences, and levied a niggling sense of guilt unto her soul, she was helpless to stave off the musings that told her to take that risk again.

Her tail thumped happily against the mattress as she considered it. Future nights of a most forbidden nature, her body writhing in stolen pleasures, and Wesley masturbating incessantly during his morning showers, never aware of the true cause of his hormonal distress. She almost purred and licked her lips lewdly as she imagined the man, his body glistening beneath the warm waters, his muscles taut as he massaged his engorged shaft unto a spurting, messy orgasm that splattered against the tiled walls. Her fantasy rekindled her arousal, and she could feel her lips dribbling and winking in between her thighs. The temptation was certainly palatable, and, the more she mused about it, the more convinced she became that her prior experience was but the first of many to come, and that perhaps there was more to be had in the meantime.

Curious about the possibilities, Molleen all but flew over the side of the bed and dashed towards the bathroom. The door was open to her; it was rarely closed. In Wesley's eyes, she was merely his pet, and while she cringed at the very word, she was marginally thankful for such narrow-minded thinking. For what reason had he to bar her from seeing him nude in the house when she was merely a mindless beast?

Confidently, she padded into the bathroom, her claws clacking against the tiles beneath her paws as she broached the transparent door of the shower. Silhouetted by the steam upon the glass, Molleen all but gawked upon her human paramour as he bathed within the warmth of the shower water. His arms moved about his he cleansed himself, casually humming a tune that she did not recognize as the suds began to cover his body. He was careless there, haphazard as he slung just as much soap about the stall as he did onto his skin, covering the glass in viscous lather that cut delightfully through the haze and permitted her unrestricted access to his nakedness which her eyes drank of gladly.

Just as she had imagined it, Wesley's skin was slick and glistening, highlighting the supple muscle that hid just beneath its surface. It was of no doubt in her mind that he took care of himself; several trips to the gym per week had left little in the way of poor definition, and years of practice had certainly firmed those ample fibers. Atop his shoulders, she saw only boulders that cradled his neck. Upon his arms, mountains moved and flexed to animate his extremities. Across his chest, a tapered valley separated his breasts at his sternum. Down to the thickness of his stomach, a softness wrought by a healthy appetite belied a supple quartet of muscle that could still be seen. If only to tease herself, Molleen consciously avoided the flaccid girth and heavy orbs that rested in between his thighs, and instead gazed upon the legs that held him aloft. She marveled as she considered the trunks of trees, and shivered as she considered the power—the thrust—that they could generate. As he turned his back towards her, she saw only a similar picture painted upon him; muscles cut by striations that rippled as he moved about.

Wesley was a gorgeous man, and his age had not detracted from that fact in the least. She drooled over him, literally as her saliva struck the floor and forced her from her reverie. It was nothing short of criminal, albeit again to her good fortune, that he had yet to find a human mate, a fact that was not made to imply that a slew of terrible women had not managed to worm their way into his bed. He had surely experienced his fair share of the supposedly fairer sex; she had even begrudgingly witnessed several bouts of intimacy between him and what she considered to be loose floozies. However, none of them had ever returned for more than a month or so, and often times left him feeling downtrodden and used for weeks afterwards.

Molleen loathed the lot of them for that; whoever could use such a sweet man like Wesley and then toss him away like so much trash?! Granted, she herself had used him for her carnal desires, and again, that infuriating feeling of guilt flared in her mind. But, surely, she was better than those cheap harlots! She wasn't after his money, or his looks (at least, not entirely). She didn't only want him for the sex (mostly). It wasn't like she actually took something from him for her own self gain (kind of). She truly wanted him; she loved him! She didn't objectify him like they did (maybe). It wasn't as though he knew of her lecherous behavior anyway! How could the man feel used at all if he didn't even know he had been?!

Her raging, internal debate abruptly derailed as her mind instead focused upon her last and most awful thought. How could he know? How could he feel that way if he actually didn't realize what had happened? Was that not somehow infinitely worse than anything else that he had suffered through; that she knew what she had done without his awareness or approval? She wasn't looking at him anymore; she saw only her muted reflection in the glass. It was the reflection of a creature stunned by a revelation, one that appeared positively haunted by a sudden culpability. She had taken from Wesley, stolen from him a moment that he had not technically consented to. She had used him for her own selfish desires without permission, objectified him in only the most heinous of ways! She had practically raped him. By the strictest definition of the word, that was exactly what she had done. She had raped Wesley, and so suddenly as the thought had struck her then did she feel so inexplicably sick.

Molleen never even heard the shower door open, or had she realized that the water was no longer running. One moment she had been living in a fantasy world; the next, she had all but fallen into a hellish nightmare of her own design. Even as Wesley toweled himself dry, seemingly without a care in the world as he skirted around her and moved to the bedroom, she remained rooted to the spot. How could she, she though? How could she have done that to him?! How could she have possibly—by any means of justification—have ever assumed that that was okay?! She wanted to cry, to ball, to lash out and sob; but, the rational side of her brain, whatever was left of it, prevented anything from happening. She had a secret to keep, after all, and an even more heinous one to take to the grave. If ever she thought of revealing herself to Wesley, that ideation utterly died amidst the sheer gravity of her sins.

When, after a time, Wesley returned to the bathroom, Molleen didn't move. She couldn't turn around and face the man, not after what she had just done to him. She wasn't even sure if she could ever look at him again, and, with that harrowing thought in mind, she realized that perhaps her deepest fears had become a reality, though not by means of Wesley shunning her. Instead, it would be her that shunned Wesley as the weight of her guilt gradually crushed her and barred her from ever gazing upon him again.

Vaguely, she was aware of the drawers that opened and closed, of the application of deodorant and the smell of cologne that wafted into the air. Though ashamed of herself, a gentle touch to the crown of her head elicited a feeble wag of her tail; it was involuntary, however, and just as soon as the warmth of his hand left her, so too did any semblance of happiness she felt as he walked out of the doorway. She listened as Wesley's footsteps became distant in the hallway, as keys jingled in his grasp, and as the garage door opened and closed with the quiet click of the lock. Out in the drive, her acute sense of hearing picked up on his truck starting on a cold morning, and a curt, panoramic display of headlights briefly illuminated the foyer before it became dark again as he drove away from their house and left for work.

With Wesley gone, Molleen's bones all but shifted autonomously. She hardly thought about the change, and it began before she even realized it was happening. The discomfort wasn't so much as an afterthought anymore as her body popped and cracked like fractured boards. Her skeleton gradually shifted to accommodate her evolving form, moving hidden structures that altered her posture and extended her limbs, narrowed her chest and widened her hips and drove her to stand upon bipedal legs. Her forepaws adopted the facsimile of four-digit hands; her fingers were rather short; her hind-paws remained unaltered. While slimmer and more svelte, her chest did not adopt breasts, and her teats remained largely intact and anatomical. She wasn't much taller, either, assuming only a few centimeters in height at best.

The lycanthropic change—her once singular secret, the one that she had kept hidden for almost two decades—was an uncomfortable amalgamation of intense cramping, nausea, and dizziness, requiring some several minutes of endurance before it was complete. Even then, when she stood up from off the floor and leaned against the vanity, her vision still swam for some time afterwards. It was like looking at the world through the concave glass of a fishbowl, intensifying the waves of sickness that roiled inside her belly. That was truly the worst of it, the part that she had never grown accustomed to. She was all be used to the soreness that it left behind in her bones; but, the sickness was something of an entirely different nature, and it only abated once her brain finally adjusted to her body.

The urge to vomit struck at her, and Molleen leaned over the sink and wretched violently. It was rarely that awful; however, her emotional instability had seemingly made the change so much worse. She gagged and spit bile into the basin. The acrid smell drove another wave of the disgusting ichor past her jaws. Reaching up with a quivering hand, the sickly anthropomorphic canine turned on the cold tap and splashed her face. The water felt refreshing and soothing to her ailments. It washed away her stomach contents down the drain, and she left it running until her nausea finally abated.

Turning off the tap, Molleen breathed heavily as she looked up and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked small, so much more so than her actual stature. Her folded ears drooped heavily upon her skull. Her hazel eyes seemed sunken, mournful, and positively full of a regret. Even her coat lacked its typical luster, and she only briefly wondered if her volatile emotional state prior to the change had somehow affected its outcome. She merely scoffed at the thought, however. It wasn't likely, and she knew that. The change was a biological metamorphosis, not an emotional one; and, regardless of that, she knew exactly why her reflection seemed so ugly.

A tear streaked down Molleen's cheek as she sniffled; it was the first of many. She was such a wretched creature, not at all better than the women that had come before her. If anything, she was far worse than they were; at least they hadn't forced themselves upon Wesley. She hiccupped and sobbed; the truth was such a terrible thing, and it weighed upon her with a gravity that she simply couldn't bear. She rushed out of the bathroom, tore down the dark hallway and into the kitchen. She stopped before the liquor cabinet and threw open the door. She rarely drank; alcohol never agreed with her. But, she had often seen Wesley drink whenever something pressed upon his mind, and hers was practically in a vice. She reached out for the first opened bottle that she could find and uncorked it. The pungent aroma of a warm whiskey struck her nostrils as she lifted the bottle, and, before she even thought about what she was doing, she took a long pull of the amber liquid.

It burned as it flowed down her throat and into her stomach; but, not hardly as much as the tears that stung at her eyes. She took another drink from the bottle, and then another, and another. There in the kitchen, shrouded in shadows, Molleen sank to the floor, a bottle clutched firmly in her hand as she drank away the pain until she couldn't feel it anymore.

---

Wesley leaned heavily upon the countertop at the central nurse's station of the emergency room, his head held aloft by his left hand and elbow as he gazed blearily towards a hectic crowd. Eyes glazed over as if in death and feeling much the same, he considered the throngs of people to be little more than ambiguous blobs of color and flesh, entering into his vision not to be seen in their entirety before skirting away to be replaced by other blobs that he couldn't recognize.

His mind was certainly elsewhere, pining for but a few more minutes of rest that would never come. He was tired to say the least of it, enough so that even while standing, his head bobbed dangerously in his hand as he nodded off for scant few seconds at a time only to be jerked back into a feeble state of consciousness due to the sudden sensation of falling. He shuffled his feet and attempted to stand straighter; however, the end result was always the same as his posture quickly deteriorated, and he dozed off again.

There just never seemed to be enough time for him during the night to sleep decently. It was always an affair of leaving late due to long working hours or practicing poor nighttime hygiene whenever he was at home. Admittedly, he was guilty of watching too much late-night television, or browsing the internet for things that he wasn't going to buy, or even wanted to. There was also the matter of caring for his dog Molleen who absolutely deserved a good measure of his devotion and could be, at times, rather cantankerous and demanding.

Wesley would never blame her for it, however. She deserved far more than the paltry few hours that they got to spend together four nights a week. She was older and rarely had the chance to leave the house anymore; she hadn't met any other dogs, or did she particularly get along with any of the ones that she had. Most of her puppy-hood friends were long dead, leaving him as her sole form of companionship in the world.

He did his best by her; but, even then, he thought that he wasn't doing enough. The quantity of life—of her years—was surely there; but, the quality was sorely lacking as of late. Twenty years into her life, and the best were already behind her. She was old for a dog, and he often worried that the lack of attention would in some way lead to the sudden decline of her health and that she would pass away sooner than he could accept. She'd had a long life with him; he wanted it to be longer still. He had grown too used to her being there throughout the years; the thought of her not being around one day was inconceivable to consider.

Somehow, someway, Wesley thought that he needed to be better for her. Maybe she thought as much as well? Perhaps that was, in essence, part of the reason why she had awoken him prior to his alarm that morning. It wasn't like Molleen to be so conscious of her space that she would push him away, and she had never roused him before without a significant reason. He considered that maybe she had been feeling lonelier than normal and that she wanted to see him for just a little longer that morning before he left for work. To spend just a little more time together.

The thought was a melancholy one. Barely lucid and mostly dreaming upon his feet, Wesley imagined his Dalmatian staring at his back as he walked down the long, dark hallway, into the garage where the door would shut with an ominous click, never looking back at her as he left. He saw her lying down in the hallway, watching that closed door with her large, soulful, brown eyes, hoping that at any moment he would simply turn around, come back home, scoop her up off the floor and play with her all-day long. He saw her ears and tail drooping amidst the loneliness and despair of an empty house, her shutting her eyes in longing and fatigue, and her last breath leaving her lips as a forlorn sigh of rejection.

Wesley jolted awake. Suddenly focused, his eyes darted around the room. He sighed, altogether pleased and despondent that he was still within the emergency center. The discordant daydream had left him feeling edgy and paranoid; he should have been more cordial with Molleen that morning. He should have hugged on her, kissed her, rubbed her tummy and cuddled her. At the very least, he should have pat her on the head and told her that she was a good girl before he had left, none of the things that he had actually done in introspection, and he cringed.

It was a spectacular failure on his part that solidified the notion that something needed to change between them, and that something started with him. Feeling tired and grumpy was no excuse to neglect his roommate, his confidant, and his dearest friend. Without her was utter hopelessness; no more happy greetings when he came home, no more warm presence in bed at night, no more snuggling, hugging, or wet, doggy-kisses. Life as usual did not exist without her, and he would be remiss to treat her poorly ever again.

Wesley needed her, and that had nothing at all to do with the fatigue that he felt. There was no shame at all in his mind to his admission. He needed Molleen like he needed air to breathe, and, come hell itself, he would find a way to make up for his transgressions.

“Coming through!" Wesley started at the exclamation as the doors to the ER whirred open to admit a flurry of EMT's and nurses all shouting in unison above a blood-soaked stretcher upon which a young man lie motionless. As they rushed past him and into the trauma room adjacent, he saw briefly that he was intubated, that his head was covered in bloody gauze, and that he did not at all appear responsive or neurologically intact. A bag of Lactated ringers was flowing into him; it was nearly empty, and an already empty bag remained hung upon the IV pole behind it. A portable cardiac monitor clung to the side of the stretcher; the rhythm looked fast, although, he couldn't see it clearly.

“We need a Doc in hear!" Someone shouted from the room; but, Wesley was already moving towards it. Amidst the chaos that ensued as the motley crew lifted the patient from the stretcher and placed him on the bed, the bandages about his head fell away, revealing a large, open wound to the left orbit which fragmented away from the socket and traveled along the length of the occipital skull where bits of tissue, bone, and what appeared to be grey matter were exposed. The eye itself was not present, and the structure of the orbit was compromised to a point of being unrecognizable.

“What's the story," Wesley asked as he assumed ventilations with an AMBU bag and continued to assess the critically injured man. Of his remaining eye, he noted that it appeared glossy with a dilated pupil. The extent of the injury had taken the man's left ear; his right ear bled and, upon holding a gauze-pad to the blood, he discovered a yellow halo surrounding it. His mandible appeared largely intact and the oropharynx was without significant bleeding. The intubation tube appeared functional and correctly placed, marked at twenty-six centimeters at the teeth, and no significant secretions were observed inside of it as he bagged him. Glancing down the man's body as the EMT's and nurses stripped him bare, he found no other obvious signs of injury. His abdomen appeared soft and supple, his chest wall firm and intact; his extremities, while covered in blood, were otherwise unremarkable.

Wesley's assessment had only taken him a few seconds; and yet, he already felt like he was behind.

“This is Robert Brown," one of the EMT's began as he stepped away from the patient and the chaos that surrounded him. “He's nineteen years old. We were called to his residence for a possible shooting and arrived there to find him prone on the ground lying in a pool of blood. His friend on scene said that he had been showing him a gun when it discharged and struck the patient in the head. He said it was a .45 caliber and that he thought he'd unloaded it; but, forgot to clear the chamber. Accidental discharge, but the damage was done all the same." The EMT looked down at his gloved hand; it was covered in writing. “Uh, the patient was initially agonal, breathing about three times a minute. He's been tachy the whole time in the 130s. Blood pressure has been in the shitter and all over the MAP; he's hypertensive one moment, and hypotensive the next. We knocked him down with 30mg of Etomidate, 200mg Succs, and 2mg of Versed; he initially had a gag reflex, if you can believe that shit. We've also given him a liter and some change of LR. He coded once on the way here; but, we were able to get pulses back with one round of CPR. No cardiac drugs were given."

“What else can I tell you, Doc?" Asked the EMT as he looked at Wesley who was again busy with reassessing the patient's head, or what remained of it. The prognosis was grim at best. While the penetrating trauma might have been obvious to everyone, the concussive forces that had likely inflicted greater injury within the intact portions of the patient's skull remained to be seen. And when given the EMT's assessment, he had already slipped into cardiac arrest once and that, in and of itself, was quite a foreboding sign.

“Do you know if the projectile was a hollow-point or an FMJ?" Wesley asked, not looking up from the patient.

“FMJ," the EMT replied. “We found them loaded in the clip, at least."

“Any mentation at all? Groaning, eye opening, things of that nature?"

The EMT shook his head, “No sir; just his initial respiratory effort and an intact gag reflex, like I said."

“How long was he in arrest?"

“About a minute," the EMT shrugged. “He came back pretty quick."

“Alright," said Wesley, glancing at the EMT. “Thanks; that's all I need."

“Sure thing, Doc."

Dismissed, the EMT and ambulance crew left the room, taking with them their stretcher and monitor and freeing it of unnecessary clutter, biological and not. In further consideration to what was now his patient, Wesley surmised that his long-term survivability was absolute shit at best, and completely impossible without mental deficits. The oozing grey matter on the mattress was telling enough of that fact. Nevertheless, and with feigned optimism on his part, there was a slim chance that the young man would, at the very least, survive the night with no small measure of significant, surgical intervention.

Miracles were what University Medical paid him to do in any regard.

“Nurse," Wesley said calmly. “I'm going to need a surgical suite five minutes ago, and I also need you to page the trauma team. Tell them to meet me there."

He was already moving before the nurse had as much as picked up the phone. She looked frantically over her shoulder as he moved out of the trauma room, calling out to him in a huff, “Which room?! How will they know where to find you if you don't even have the suite number yet?!"

“It'll be easy!" He shouted back as he took off at a run towards the surgical elevators, battling the throngs of gasping people as he went. “I'll be the only son-of-a-bitch in a room working on a guy missing half of his head!"

Rushing into the elevator, Wesley jammed his thumb against the button for the surgical ward and impatiently waited for the doors to shut. The dull roar outside gradually faded until he stood alone above a dying man oozing brain out the side of his exploded skull. He squeezed the AMBU bag gently, watched as his chest rose and then fell as he let it go. He closed his eyes and felt the fatigue that lingered beyond the adrenaline. He fought it off and heaved a weary sigh, his eyes parting again only once the elevator came to a creaky stop, and the doors slid open to reveal a long, sterile hallway filled with suites.

He groaned as he pushed the bed forwards, even though no one was there to hear him.

It was going to be a long, long day.

---

Molleen felt a fright. She was cold, miserable, and sore, lying on a tiled floor that provided little in the way of comfort, physical or otherwise. And she was wet, too, for a reason that she could only scarcely recall amidst the pain that throbbed inside her skull. The cause was empty, still clutched in her paw, the amber liquid within gone and instead replaced by a sour relief that had soaked into her coat.

She felt the shame just as well; she hadn't even gotten up to use the bathroom. She was pathetic; a gross, disgusting creature that was better off found beneath a bridge or in some dark, dingy alley rather in the nice home that she marred. She imagined herself a most piteous, wretched sight and wanted to scoff and snarl; but, only a strangled sob past her lips instead.

She didn't deserve to feel angry; that was an emotion meant for somebody that had been wronged. It wasn't meant for the one who had been responsible for the wrongdoing. She had taken something from someone that she could not give back. She had used him for her own selfish desires and had in no way rectified the deed. Truly, when she thought about it, she had only wanted more from him, and she may have very well taken it had she not realized the gravity of her misdeeds.

She was an awful companion and a horrible friend. She deserved the loathing, the regret, and the sorrow. But, not the anger.

Molleen wept openly. She mewled softly upon the hard floor that refused to cradle her. She drew herself into a tight ball, drawing her knees into her chest as she slid the empty bottle away from her and held herself as she cried. Each hiccupping sob brought its own wave of agony crashing through her. Her chest burned, agony flared in between her temples, and her stomach raged against the alcohol that still filled her.

But, she didn't care. The physical agony was nothing but a release from the emotional turmoil that threatened to tear her apart. She didn't know what to do; but, she couldn't imagine merely living with herself after having sexually abused her only friend. So too could she not even apologize to him if not for the simple fact that in his mind, nothing had happened at all, and, that even if he had been privy to it, she was little more than a pet to him, and he wouldn't hold it against her regardless.

That was likely from where her true suffering stemmed from. It was not only the fact that she had committed the deed; but, more so that he would never hold her accountable for it, no matter how the scenario played out. As long as she was Molleen the Dalmatian, she would never be culpable for her actions, and that inherently commuted the punishment she so thusly deserved.

The irony of such an admission was not lost on Molleen, even in her drunken stupor. To get away with everything she had wanted in a moment of weakness only to be utterly crushed beneath the weight of her own guilt. That was the very definition of the word. More harrowing than that was to realize her inability to make it right, for to do so would also be to reveal her darkest secret to Wesley, and the inherent risks of that were far more than she could bear.

Molleen would much rather live with her human in soul-crushing despair than assume the risk of frightening him off forever. No human could ever accept her for what she truly was. It was a notion that had practically been bred into her, more instinct than philosophy by that point in her life. It was far easier to assume the identity of a simple dog and live out her days one lie at a time rather than having to rely on fate to either improve her life, or destroy it.

However desperately she longed for the former, it would never matter. Molleen would never take that chance, and certainly not willingly. Nevertheless, it hurt more than anything to know that she was a deceiver, a liar, and a harlot. Her heart overflowing with grief, her anguished cries found new life, becoming stronger than ever, enough so that she never heard the garage door open and close, or the tinkling of keys in the lock.

Molleen never heard the voice that called out to her, or the sudden, frantic footsteps that dashed throughout a dark home, or the hands desperately searching for the light-switch. With her eyes shut tight against the world, she never saw the bloom of light within the kitchen, or heard the gasp that left awestruck lips amidst her pain.

She never heard the shouting or saw the disbelief upon his face.

What she finally took notice of was the touch that seemed so sudden to her, never aware of the many minutes that had ticked by before he had found the nerve to do so. Startled, she shrieked and jerked, kicking away from the contact only to slide into the wall adjacent where she struck her head and made the pain flare anew. Whimpering, she grasped her skull; but, her eyes remained wide and fixed, her pupils dilated in utter horror as she blearily stared at the bemused face of the man she cared so deeply for, but did not want to see.

“M-Molleen?" Came the confused, unspoken question from Wesley's lips; the one that she feared to answer more than anything else. Then and there was she no longer something pathetic and disgusting; no, she added to that list foolish and thoughtless as well. Not only had everything else come apart in her life; but, she had also managed to be caught in her lycanthropic state as well. She couldn't hide from it anymore, and it seemed as though the devil himself had come to collect upon her sins.

She only whimpered back at him, though; she was too terrified and mortified to speak.

“Molleen; is that really you?" His voice seemed more confident; but, his actions were as hesitant as ever. He didn't move towards her and simply stared right back at her; or, perhaps through her as she was apt to believe as the guilt again swelled in her chest and drove more tears from her puffy, unblinking eyes.

“Hey," Wesley slowly moved towards her; but, it seemed so abrupt in her mind that she cowed against the wall and trembled as he advanced.

“Hey, now," He said again, almost upon her with his hand outstretched in what she feared would be a punishing blow.

“Shh; it's okay." But, whatever she had expected it to be was certainly not the gentle touch upon her shoulder that caressed her softly. Feeling it drove another sob past her lips; she didn't deserve that either. Surely, she did not deserve the sudden embrace that she felt herself be drawn into as Wesley lifted her bodily from the floor and sat her gingerly in his lap. Whether ignorant or uncaring of the fact that she had soiled herself, he wrapped her up within his arms anyway and rocked her gently from side-to-side as he continued to whisper softly into her ear, “Shh; it's okay."

It wasn't okay, though. Beyond being held in his arms, nothing about that moment felt okay! She was drunk, wasted beyond her common sense, and messy, soaked in her own urine! She felt as foul as she smelled, both physically and emotionally, and she had been caught in her altered state in much the same way! Everything about it was terrible; completely and utterly the worst thing that she could imagine!

“I know you're her," Wesley whispered, driving an icy stake into her already crippled heart. “I don't know how, or why, or what the hell is going on," he snorted desperately, and she stayed flaccid in his grasp, fearing that it would soon come to an end. But, if anything, he only seemed to hold her tighter. “But, I know you're her; Molleen. Shit, I think I knew the moment I walked in the door and heard you crying. It scared the hell out of me; I thought you were hurt. It never even dawned on me until I turned on the lights and found you…like this, that normal dogs don't cry like that."

Another strangled sob burst from Molleen's throat. She wasn't a normal dog, and now, Wesley knew that. She absolutely feared what that entailed; the rejection, the isolation, the loneliness, homelessness, and abandonment. Surely Wesley would only want something normal in his life; something that was honest and did not harbor decades-long secrets from him, or molest him in his sleep for that matter.

But, if such was truly the case, then Wesley hid it well behind something impermeable. He didn't let her go, or push her away, or scold her, or even threaten her. Much to her disbelief, and to a fragile sense of wavering encouragement that she felt inside of her, his demeanor remained persistently warm and kind, just the same as he had always been to her.

Nevertheless, Molleen still whimpered bitterly. Too much had happened in too short a time. She was overwhelmed, grossly so, and couldn't even discern her own feelings, let alone ponder about whatever Wesley was experiencing. Remorse was the only thing that made any sense to her, and so she let go of it in spades. Finally giving in, she buried her face into Wesley's chest and suddenly clung to him for dear life, feeling as though to let him go would be for the last time, even if that wasn't true at all.

“Dogs don't do that either," Wesley whispered as she clutched his scrub-top tightly between her paws. “I feel like this is a bad dream; but, somehow I know it's real, even if it can't be." She cringed at the words, but listened—and felt him—regardless. “I don't know what's going on, or what happened to you, or why you're different. I'm so unsure about all of this and I have no idea what we're going to do about it in the long run. I mean, this is some otherworldly kind of shit going on, and I don't even believe in the supernatural! I don't know if I'm supposed to call somebody, or not call them, or hide you, or run away with you!"

Molleen cringed with every word; she became wracked by the same sobs that physically hurt her to experience. Whatever confidence she thought she had was dashed away, consumed instead by the many horrible things that still plagued her broken mind and heart. Everything she feared felt so close to fruition; but, just before the panic consumed her, she felt Wesley's lips against her folded ear again, whispering softly to her, “Shh; shh."

“It's going to be alright," he said. “I'm sorry if my outburst upset you. Just, please, try to understand that this is so far out there for me. I mean, this morning, you were just my dog. Now? I have no idea! But, whatever you are, whatever this is, whatever's happening here, I know that you're still Molleen, and that I still love you like I did earlier, understand? Even if I don't know what's going to happen in the future, I do know that we're going to tackle it together, okay? I'm going to take care of you just like I always have, and everything's going to be just fine."

She wanted to believe him; more than anything, she had needed to hear that he still loved her and wanted her; but, while his embrace had done much to again placate her furious worries, there was still so much doubt roiling inside of her. Admittedly, she took some measure of comfort not only from his words but from his actions which seemed to affirm his conviction to her. However, there had still been a palpable trepidation in his voice, a writhing uncertainty which bordered on both disbelief and fear. He had also been hesitant at first to come anywhere near her, and while things certainly seemed to be improving between them, she remained persistently anxious about him becoming withdrawn and ultimately abandoning her. She needed Wesley more than anything; but, she needed to know that she was safe with him in order to put at least some of her worries to rest.

“P-Promise?" Molleen asked meekly amidst a hiccupping sob.

She heard Wesley sigh.

“You can talk," he said, more a statement of fact than a question. “Somehow, I actually expected that, really."

“Promise that you still care about me?" She persisted, unsatisfied with his answer.

“Of course I do," curtly replied Wesley. “You know that I do! And, you know what else? Your voice isn't half bad. It's sultry with a bit of a growl to it; I like that."

She felt her cheeks flush at his abrupt compliment. Certainly, she wasn't expecting it, particularly when given her current state.

“Th-thanks," her cheeks grew hotter as she tried to bury her face further into Wesley's chest. “You're the first human to hear it. I guess, I'm glad you like it."

“You can blush, too!" He suddenly interjected, driving more fire to her face as she became aware of his tilted chin and the inquisitive eyes that gazed upon her. She tried to curl into him further only to realize that there was nowhere else to hide using his body. Instead, she brought her paws to bear and covered her head, shyly looking away from him.

He smiled at her; although, she did not see it.

“You're adorable," he said.

She hid herself all the more.

“R-Really?" She asked timidly.

“Really. I always thought you were cute; that hasn't changed."

She smiled; a fickle thing, but an honest one, and one that was well received.

“Thank you," she replied. “I-I'm glad you think so."

“You say that like I've never told you that before."

She looked aside, “I'm different now."

Wesley shrugged, “I can see that; so, what?"

“So, I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore, let alone think anything good about me," She replied honestly. “You didn't take my appearance very well at first."

“I'm sorry," he frowned, suddenly ashamed of his prior actions. “I guess I overreacted. It's still a lot to take in; but, I am being honest about how I feel about you. It'll just take me some time to get used to this."

“I-I know; and, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have assumed the worst about you."

He shrugged, “It's okay. Really, it is. As confused as I am right now I can at least appreciate the gravity of this for you. It must be pretty scary."

“Yeah," she affirmed. “Like you wouldn't believe. I've been keeping this a secret for so long that to be caught out in the open was pretty much the worst-case scenario, and it's never worked out very well for me in my nightmares."

“But, why?" He asked.

“Why what?"

“Why keep it a secret from me at all? All these years we've been together—I mean, I'm just assuming from what you said that this has been a long-time thing—and you could have shown me at any time. So, why didn't you?"

Molleen took a quavering breath, and released it.

“Because I thought you would reject me."

The words hung between them.

“…I would never reject you," he replied somberly, realizing then just how close those words came to being a lie.

“I couldn't know that," she avowed. “There was ever a good opportunity to show you; and, if there was, I was too afraid to anyway. You're my only friend in this world; I'd have nothing else if I didn't have you, and I couldn't risk that."

“So, if I never found you like this, you'd have spent the rest of your life as my dog?" He asked pensively. “That just sounds so horrible to me in light of all this!"

Molleen shrugged. “It would have been better than not being yours at all," she replied. “It was a life that I was willing to live if it kept you in it."

“B-but, that's just insane!" He exclaimed. “What kind of hell would that have put you through?! I mean, you're a sentient creature, Molleen; living like that is tantamount to torture I can't even fathom!"

“You'd still be with me, though," she shrugged again. “Besides, I've lived a dog's life for decades, and it wasn't all that bad."

“B-But!"

“Wesley, please," Molleen interjected. “My life hasn't been terrible. You've given me so much more than I could've ever asked for."

“I just feel sick that I treated you like a pet for so long," he sighed. “If only I'd known sooner."

“You can't blame yourself for that; you never knew that I was different until now. Besides, I liked being your pet," she reassured him. “You're a really kind man."

“Th-thanks," he flushed. “And, I want you to know that everything's going to be alright between us, okay? I'm going to make sure of that."

“You already said that, I think," she smiled.

“I was just making sure you believed me."

“I do."

“Good."

“Wesley?"

“Yeah, girl?" He cringed at the slip; but, he wasn't afforded the chance to apologize.

“What do we do now?" she asked.

Wesley thought about it for a moment. It was a good question, and one that deserved more time than he actually afforded it to consider. Nevertheless, it was all still quite overwhelming, and not just in the immediate sense, and any meaningful answer would never be gleaned in a single night, he knew. So, as his nostrils flared, he sighed out but a small bit of uncertainty and decided in the interim on something simple.

“Well, I think we'll start with a bath," he said. “And then we'll take it one step at a time from there; sound good?"

Molleen flushed hotly again, reminded of the fact that she smelled utterly putrid, and felt mortified that Wesley was privy to it too.

“Y-Yes," she stammered. “I'm sorry I made a mess of myself."

Wesley shook his head and shrugged.

“Don't worry about it," he replied, cradling her body closely to his chest as he stood up from the floor and wandered off towards the washroom. “I can only imagine that you had a hell of a day; you polished off a small bottle of whiskey on your own, after all."

Molleen's ears flattened against her skull in shame. “…Sorry; was it expensive?"

“Not at all," he chuckled. “But, you're definitely going to feel it in the morning."

“Uhg, or right now," she groaned as they entered the bathroom. Wesley left the door opened, finding no reason to close it anymore.

“The bath will help," he replied as he lowered her onto the floor and started the tap. “A long soak should get you good and relaxed before bed."

“Hope so," she said with a grimace. “I feel like one big cramp."

Wesley grinned at her and nodded his understanding as the basin filled with hot water.

“Yup; alcohol will do that to you. I take it you've never drank like that before?" he asked, trying to think of a time in the past that something had gone conspicuously missing; but, he honestly couldn't recall.

Molleen gingerly shook her head.

“Maybe a sip here and there if I'm honest," she replied. “But, never like I did tonight. I don't think I ever want to drink again!"

Wesley chuckled at that.

“Yeah, that's what everyone says."

“Well, everyone hasn't meant it like I do," She reasoned.

“If you say so."

“I do say so!"

“Easy now; I'm not judging you or anything."

“Well, it sure feels like you are!"

“I'm not; I promise."

“You better!"

“It's just strange." Wesley said as he turned off the tap, the tub half full.

“Stranger than everything else you've seen tonight?" asked Molleen.

Wesley frowned pensively and conceded, “No, I suppose not."

“Then, what's so strange about it?"

“I really don't know," he shrugged. “Aside from the way you look, it's like I'm talking to any other girl. That, and I guess I just never took you for a binge drinker, that's all. And, certainly not a gal that would reach for the whiskey right off the bat, either."

“Oh?" she furrowed her brow, and Wesley found the expression curious to see upon a canine face. “But the whole Lycanthropic thing was something you saw coming?"

Wesley cringed. “Hey, I think we've established that is still by and large the top pick for the completely unbelievable right now, alright?" he sighed. “All I was trying to say was that if I had to peg you down for a type, I'd like to think you're more of an occasional, every-once-in-a-while, cosmopolitan kind of girl. Whiskey just really doesn't suit you."

“No kidding," she jeered. “And what's a cosmopolitan, anyway?"

“Fruity drink with alcohol in it," explained Wesley. “But, it doesn't matter; just making some small talk with my new gal pal. Now, come," he gesticulated towards the bath with his other hand outstretched towards her. “The water's getting cold."

“Gal pal?" Molleen asked, suddenly feeling timid again as she took Wesley's hand in her paw and let him help her to her feet where she bobbled slightly before becoming steady.

“Well, yeah," he replied, his interests admittedly peaked by the way that she walked bipedal as she shuffled past him and to the tub. The alcohol notwithstanding, her strides seemed typical of any creature so oriented. Her ambulation was smooth and the motions seemed fluid and relaxed like an afterthought and came to her with a measure of ease that Wesley wasn't expecting to see. While the anatomy was blatantly different, the locomotion was apparently the same: just one step in front of the other.

“I guess new isn't quite right, though," he added absently, shaking himself from his observation as he aided Molleen into the water. “We've known each other for around twenty years or so; I suppose that doesn't really fit the bill. But, all the same, I feel like I hardly know you."

Molleen frowned and sighed, both out of relief from the soothing waters, and out of shame for the secret that she'd kept.

“I understand," she said quietly. “And, again, I'm so sorry for hiding this for so long. I wish I had a better excuse for it; but, I don't. I should have shown you so much sooner; but, I just couldn't accept the risks that went along with that. Now that I'm living it, though, I do regret it. I just hope that you can forgive me…for everything," she trailed off, stared into the bathwater and refused to look at Wesley who was bent over the side of the tub.

“There's nothing to forgive," he replied assuredly, entirely unaware of the guilt that flashed across Molleen's face. “In your position, I can't honestly say that I wouldn't have done the same thing. But, now that it's all out in the open, I'd sure like to get to know the real you. I mean, you're still my roomie after all, and my feelings for you certainly haven't changed."

Wesley smiled down at her; but, she didn't turn to look at him.

“Is something wrong?" he asked, taken aback slightly at her distant behavior.

Molleen remained quiet for a moment, thinking that she needed to confess her misdeeds to him, before she meekly replied, “N-no; nothing's wrong. I-I'm just feeling a bit sick is all. My head is killing me." While it wasn't entirely a lie, what she had uttered still tasted bitter in her mouth.

“Ah," Wesley chuckled lightly at her. “Well, that tends to happen when you drink too much. And, I ain't going to lie to you, it probably won't be any better for several hours. I think the best thing you can do about it is soak in the tub for a little while, take an Aspirin, and try to sleep it off."

“Okay," she replied, eager to steer the conversation away from her guilt. “Do you think it's safe for me to take Aspirin? I'm not exactly normal by any standards, and I don't think I can take human medication."

Wesley hardly gave any thought to her concern before he nodded, “Aspirin is safe for you to take. I might not be very privy to veterinary medicine, but I know that one's alright for dogs in the short term. Ah, not that I think you're a dog anymore, of course," he quickly added.

Molleen snorted. “No offense taken, Wes. It's better to be safe than sorry. Besides, I was thinking along the same lines anyway. I think I metabolize things like any normal dog would. All the visits to the vet over the years—the shots and medications I've had in the past—they all seem to have worked right. I guess it's just the rest of me that's weird."

“Maybe," agreed Wesley. “But, I think it's something that's going to grow on me; I like weird."

Molleen finally turned to face him again. “R-Really?" she asked hesitantly.

“Of course!" he exclaimed. “I mean, I've wanted a talking dog since I was six."

She snorted again. “Oh? And now that that childhood fantasy has come true, what will you do next?"

He shrugged, “Get to know her like I said."

“And then?"

“And then," he hesitated. “I don't know; live life with her, I guess; see where it takes us."

She smiled, “I think she'd like that."

“Me too," he reciprocated, reaching out to scratch her behind the ear. Molleen leaned into the familiar touch, sighing happily as his nails gently dug into the sensitive flesh there. Her eyes drooped heavily as she nuzzled his hand, her instincts driving her further towards the contact, and Wesley grinned at her.

“We should really get you cleaned up and into bed," he interrupted. “Or at least out of the water before you fall asleep."

“Mmm," she murmured. “Do we have to?"

“We better."

“Alright, alright. Will you at least wash my back? I still feel pretty crampy."

“Sure, here," he guided her forward. “Just lean over a bit and let me do the work. I like petting you, anyways."

“Mmm, Okay; you do you, I'll just sit here."

Wesley chuckled a bit and reached across the tub, retrieving a moisturizing bar of soap from the dish there. Working it into a lather, he gently massaged the suds into Molleen's coat, taking his time to rub down her ailing and knotted muscles as he worked from her neck to her shoulders, along the length of her back, and then back up again before repeating the process several times. Sensing that she wasn't actually going to take the soap from him, he worked his way across her chest and stomach next, taking care not to broach anything private as he worked his way down to her legs and even her feet.

“Feel good?" Wesley needlessly asked.

Molleen's only response was a throaty purr, and he smiled knowingly.

“Good; consider it an apology for how poorly I behaved earlier."

“Aplogy accepted," she slurred as he persisted for a few more minutes before withdrawing his hands.

“All done girl," he said.

“So soon?"

“We can pick it up again once we get you into bed," he snickered.

“Promise?"

He nodded, “I do if you'll duck down and rinse yourself off real quick. I still need to shower myself."

“You should have joined me," she stated matter-of-factly. “It's not like I haven't seen you naked before or anything." She dunked herself beneath the water before Wesley could retort, and in the short time that it took for her to surface again, his witticism had already left him wanting.

“You're still handsome when you blush," she affirmed, driving more fire to Wesley's flushed cheeks.

“Help me dry off?" she asked.

“S-sure," he stammered, absently reaching for a towel that was hung on the wall behind him as his eyes roved over Molleen's dripping body. A crisis was happening in his brain as he looked at her. In all the time that he and Molleen had been together, not once had he ever thought of her as alluring, at least not sexually. She had always been pleasing to look at, to be sure; but, it had always been in a strictly platonic sense. Now, however, as he gawked at the intelligent, sentient creature before him, one that was seemingly as witty as she was honest, he wasn't so sure.

“Wesley?" Molleen interjected, disturbing the raging debate within his mind.

“Hmm?"

“The towel?"

As if someone had just jolted him with a prod, Wesley abruptly jerked towards her, towel in hand as he clumsily draped it across her shoulders.

“Right! Sorry," he apologized.

“Not at all," Molleen assured him with a sly grin. “Did you see something you liked?"

Mortified, Wesley flushed harder. “W-well…Y-yeah, I suppose I might have."

“Just 'might have'?"

“I-I…Yeah, I'm not really sure," he admitted bashfully. “It'd be awful rude and a downright lie to say that I didn't just look you over, or that I didn't think you were attractive. But, I'm just a bit confused and a little bothered about that. Taking us back to our conversation earlier, I'd like to remind you that you were just my dog this morning! And, while it's obvious to me now that you're much more than that, I'm still having a bit of trouble processing the idea that I could find you—and you'll have to forgive me for being forward here—sexy," he sighed deeply. “I hope that doesn't sound scummy or anything; but, please, just keep in mind that it'll take some time for me to get used to this."

Molleen's brow furrowed as she dabbed herself with the towel. Admittedly, she hadn't been expecting that, and the more she digested the words, the more appealing she found them rather than scummy, as he had put it. There was a certain element of hope to be taken from them, and implicitly, he had admitted to a reciprocal attraction to her of sorts. While it was apparently far from the depths of her own attraction to him, it was certainly something to build upon.

She glanced up into his face, and thought she caught him staring at her again. His eyes seemed to be glued to her hips; but, she could hardly believe it. Surely after confessing so much uncertainty about her allure he wasn't ogling her?! Nevertheless, it was quite apparent that he wasn't looking at her face. Perhaps, she considered, the attraction wasn't so far from reach after all? Curious of the possibilities—and with more than just a bit of desire to catch him red-handed—she wriggled her hips saucily at him, and smiled haughtily when his eyes abruptly jumped upwards to lock with her own accusatory gaze.

“Not sure, eh?" she asked smugly.

Sweat beaded upon Wesley's brow.

“Y-Yeah," he dumbly replied as he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Again; sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

“And, again, not at all. You know I don't mind. In fact, I find it flattering, really."

“…Y-Yeah, well. I-It's just not something that I find—I don't know—appropriate, I guess."

Molleen threw the towel to the ground, it having become too soggy to be of any use anymore.

“And why's that?" she asked, cocking her hips to one side.

“W-well," Wesley swallowed hard. “I-I just…Uh…don't…really know. I guess I feel like I'm taking advantage of you somehow, or something…"

“Taking advantage of me?" She tilted her head to one side, and glanced away for a moment as a flurry of memories suddenly assaulted her mind; but, she rallied against them, and was able to put them aside again before she looked back at him. “I told you that it was okay; in what way are you taking advantage of me?"

“A-Ah," Wesley cleared his throat again. “Well, I know that you said you don't mind. B-But, I don't know, I feel like I'm somehow using the length of our relationship as leverage to justify it being okay to look at you like that, even though in the grand scheme of things our relationship is really just starting; or, at least for me it is. Well, it is, and it's not, all at the same time, you know?" he shrugged, and then sighed. “I guess that's what's most confusing about it. I'm so torn between the fact that I know you, and that I don't know you at all. But then, I've already said something like that, haven't I?"

Even though it was rhetorical, Molleen nodded anyway, having found more truth in his words than she cared to admit. Once again, she found herself staring down the miasmic chasm of her sins; but, this time, she couldn't escape. Born of physical attraction and want, she had used him in a similar, albeit more lecherous, way. And, she too had utilized their relationship as a justification for doing so. Yet, the disparity between them was that she took something physical from him, a moment that he was a part of only in body, never aware of it having happened at all. But, if anything good had come from her molesting Wesley, it was that it provided her with a sense of understanding now that everything—save for that incident—had been aired out, and she realized more of the depth of her mistakes.

Wesley didn't know who, or what, she was. Not really, anyway. He knew her only as Molleen the dog, and not as Molleen the Lycanthrope. Whereas she had the luxury of knowing Wesley just as he was and always had been, she had kept almost her entire life a secret from him. Granted, there were surely things about Wesley that she wasn't privy too; but, not nearly to the same scale as her.

“Are you alright?" She jerked slightly from the sudden contact she felt against her shoulder, and only then did she realize that she was crying again. “If it was something I said, I'm sorry; I was just trying to be honest."

Honest; Molleen flinched at the word; but, she wiped her eyes anyway.

“N-No," she sniffed. “No, that's not it."

“If not that, then, what?" he asked. “You know, I hate to see you cry like this."

She drew in a wavering breath. “I…I c-can't tell you."

Wesley looked confused. “Why not?"

“…Because you'll hate me, and you wouldn't be wrong for it."

“Hate you?!" he exclaimed, aghast. “Molleen, I thought we were past this! I won't hate you; I could never…"

“I molested you," she interjected pointedly.

“…What?"

Defeated, Molleen sighed mournfully, and confessed, “I molested you, Wesley. This morning, before you woke up, I…I used you. We were lying in bed together, asleep; something you did woke me up and…And we were just so close together. I started thinking about you, how I felt about you…the things I wanted from you…I know that it was wrong; I knew it then. But, it just felt so good! You seemed aroused; I was out of my mind with it! I…rubbed myself against you until I…Well, I used you completely; let's leave it at that…"

“…Molleen; I."

“I'm not finished, Wes," she interrupted again. “I watched you shower this morning too; remember that?"

Wesley meekly nodded once.

“I was still thinking about all the ways that I could…get away with doing it again. I'm a sick puppy, Wes. I was almost prepared to use you like that every chance I got. But then, the word itself crushed me. I-I didn't want to use you, Wes! I don't want to use you! I-I remembered all of those loose and horrible women that have come into and out of your life over the years, and I realized that I…I was behaving just like them. That I was worse than them because I…molested you. The realization made me sick, Wes, so, so sick. It hurt me so bad that I just wanted the pain and the thoughts to stop!"

She shivered her hugged herself before she continued, “After you left for work, I let the change take hold. And then, I just rushed to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the first open bottle I could find. I sat down in the floor with it and drank all day, just to make the pain go away," she scoffed. “It never did though; all that did for me was make my body hurt like my heart. I…I'm so sorry, Wesley, for what I did. I more than understand it if you hate me, a-and I won't ask you to forgive me either…"

“Enough, Molleen," Wesley finally interjected before the sniffling canine could go any further. He approached her slowly, mindful of her fragile and pitiful state as he lifted his arms and embraced her petite body against his own. “That…that was a lot," he admitted, leaning down to place his chin against the crown of her head. “I can't say that I'm very happy that you did that; any of it. Secrecy is one thing; but, using me and pining over me is something else entirely! And, while I can appreciate that you came to realize just how wrong what you were doing was, I can't say that I'm pleased with you trying to drown out your misery in alcohol either."

Molleen trembled against him and suddenly sobbed; but, Wesley held fast to her. “But, I still don't hate you, Molleen; I really don't. What you did might have been wrong; but, I wasn't hurt by it, and, I don't feel particularly violated or emotionally… I can't think of the word; damaged, I guess?" He shrugged, and felt the melancholy dog relax somewhat before he continued. “You're still one of the better things in my life, girl, and that holds a lot of weight, more than what a little runaway excitement can tear down anyhow. And, you don't have to ask for forgiveness; you're already forgiven. I still want to get to know the real you, and maybe—just maybe here—that means more than just emotional ways, too."

Molleen jolted at that and abruptly looked up into Wesley's smirking face.

“What?" he asked smugly. “I said earlier that you were sexy; it's only that I have some hang-up about seeing you like that as being alright. Either way, I have to admit, the curiosity is more than there. But, I'm more of a wine and dine kind of guy before jumping right into the pelvic tango if you catch my drift."

Molleen snorted and wiped her eyes, smiling at him slightly.

“You're awful," she said. “That was a terrible pun."

Wesley shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But, you understand at least."

“I do; and, I think I'd like that very much."

“Good," he grinned. “Now, I think we've been in the bathroom long enough, and I've had just about enough of today as I can handle. I'm going to shower and then we're going straight to bed. Anything else can just wait until the goddamn morning, sound good?"

She nodded. “Like a shovel, Wes, I can dig it."

“Like a shovel, I can dig it?" His brow furrowed as he reiterated the words. “I thought you said my puns were bad; what the hell do you call that then?"

“Fair play," she smirked. “So, are you going to shower or what?"

“Uh, yeah…" Wesley looked away and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. He thought adamantly that he should ask Molleen to leave; he still didn't like the idea of disrobing and being nude in front of her. He didn't think it was appropriate. Nevertheless, in light of recent developments and confessions, a bit of nudity hardly seemed such the taboo thing that it was. Besides, he truly wasn't feeling any self-consciousness around her when he really thought about it.

“Screw it," he concluded and hastily disrobed, pulling his scrub top over his head and tossing it to the floor. Pulling the drawstring to his pants, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulled his bottoms off in one quick motion; he kicked them into the corner as he made his way to the shower and started the water again.

“I'll only be a sec," Wesley said to a gawking Molleen, feeling unusually content about her looking. “You're more than welcome to stand there and stare; but, there isn't going to be much of a show. Just a bunch of flaccid dangly parts and suds for a couple of minutes."

His blunt honesty was enough to bring an enamored Molleen back to her senses.

“Attractive there," she scoffed at him. “But, I think I'll have to pass this time. I prefer the more 'fluffed' and 'up-and-at-them' kind of show. You definitely put on a good one too, by the way."

“Do I now?" a flushed, but snarky Wesley asked from within the shower. “I ask because I wouldn't know! You only seem to partake in it when I'm caught unawares!"

Molleen cringed, and her ears drooped slightly.

“I-I…Sorry, Wes. I swear to you, I'll find a way to make things right!"

“Don't bother; I was only poking fun at you!" placated Wesley. “Besides, everything's still good between us, I promise!"

“…Is it?"

“Of course, it is!" he assured. “And we're going to work through everything else together, okay? Now, why don't you go ahead and lie down; get the bed warm for me like I'm used to, alright?"

“A-Alright, Wes."

“Excellent! I'll be there shortly; just have to rinse off."

“…Wesley?"

“Yeah, Molleen?"

“Bring Aspirin please; I just remembered my head is being crushed by gravity."

Wesley chuckled, “I will bring the Aspirin."

He listened to her go, her claws clacking against the tile floor before disappearing into the hallway. Once he was sure she was out of ear shot, he leaned against the shower wall and sighed wearily. The day had taken a lot out of him. An earlier start than normal had left him in a mental fog all day; a critically injured patient had put him in a futile fight against death all afternoon; and, his evening had become something that he couldn't begin to understand.

In all his life, Wesley had never once considered the possibility of the paranormal being a reasonable reality. He had always thought it to have no more value than its worth as entertainment, something to read into or watch on television just to pass the time.

It wasn't something that was supposed to be real; nevertheless, all the evidence that he would ever need was likely suffering in his bed at that very moment, and while it was still hard to grasp even the farthest tendrils of the situation, he certainly didn't want Molleen to suffer because of it.

Besides, he really wasn't getting anywhere in all his musings anyway; without further thought, Wesley shut off the water, stepped out of the tub, and dried himself with a spare towel. Like Molleen, he threw it to the floor afterwards; although, unlike her, he was sufficiently water free. Within the bathroom, hung adjacent to the vanity sink, was a small medicine cabinet. Opening it, Wesley rummaged through various, white-capped bottles until he found what he was looking for, closed it, and shuffled his way back into the kitchen where the whole ordeal had started. Ignoring the mess upon the floor, he reached into a cupboard near the refrigerator, produced a glass, and filled it with water from the fridge spigot.

He walked back towards his bedroom, not bothering to stop and dress himself in his customary sleeping attire; the silk bottoms hardly seemed necessary anyhow. He found Molleen on her side of the bed; the lycanthrope was cradling her head in between her hand-like paws, whimpering miserably with her eyes screwed shut.

Wesley broached her as quietly as he could. It seemed as though the excitement of their earlier engagement had run its course, and in its wake, it had rekindled the crushing grip of a nasty, whiskey hangover.

“Molleen," he whispered to her. “I've got some Aspirin for you and a cold glass of water. Can you sit up for a sec?"

“Argh," she moaned in reply. “I-I think so. God, I feel so terrible all the sudden, Wes."

Gingerly helping the ailing canine into what loosely passed as a sitting position, Wesley handed her the Aspirin and watched with some fascination as she drank steadily from the glass. It seemed that she was quite adept at adapting human-made objects to fit her own unique biology.

“Thanks," she said, handing him an empty glass which he then set aside on the nightstand and eased her back into bed.

“Sure."

“Get in bed with me?" She asked, not so much a question as it was a plea.

“Of course," Wesley replied, carefully crawling over her to lie just behind her, and close enough that his body was pressed against her own. He wrapped his arms around her, something that she was quite content with until he surprised her by lifting her up bodily and placing her against him so that her back was to his stomach and her head rested upon his chest.

“Wh-what are you doing?"

Wesley only silenced her, “Shh. Put your arms down."

Tentatively, Molleen did as he instructed.

“Good," she heard him whisper. “Now, just relax and try to drift off."

And, before she could ask any more questions, Molleen suddenly felt nimble, skillful fingers against her temples, rubbing in languid, soothing circles with a most relieving pressure applied. Relief past her lips as a gracious sigh, and she did just as he asked as her entire body relaxed and she surrendered herself to his ministrations.

“O-Oh," she murmured. “That's heavenly. Please, don't stop."

Forgoing a laugh for the sake of being still, Wesley simply smiled at her.

“I'm glad you think so," he replied. “And, don't you worry about it; you just try to fall asleep, and everything will be better in the morning, okay?"

“Okay," she acquiesced, her body and mind feeling quite heavy. “Wes?"

“Hmm?"

“I'm sorry for everything."

“I know," he said softly.

Silence filled the room.

“Wes?"

“Yeah?"

“You really do still love me, right?"

“Always." He didn't hesitate a moment, and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead.

Molleen smiled serenely.

“Thank you," she said. “I'm so glad."

“Me too."

Silence again fell between them, and she fell asleep shortly thereafter. Wesley kept massaging her head until his hands hurt too much to do so anymore, and his own fatigue began to get the better of him. He didn't bother to reposition her; her weight felt peculiarly comfortable against him. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of the comforter that both of them had been too weary to turn down and tossed a sizable portion of it over their bodies. He ensured that Molleen's head was free of it before he settled in, closed his eyes, and gladly followed after her.

When Wesley opened them next, it was well into the morning. The sun shined brightly though his shaded windows, and his room was awash in an insipid light that illuminated everything in crisp, yellow colors. Blearily, he blinked the sleep from his eyes as he stared off into the ceiling. Hazy thoughts and memories from the night before still floated around in his mind; although, after a night of rest, they seemed more languid than angry, there, but, only to remind him that he still had questions.

Glancing down, Wesley saw that Molleen had yet to stir. The lycanthropic canine was right where he left her, dozing hard and mindlessly drooling across his bare stomach. He hadn't been aware of that fact until he'd looked down; however, he became acutely aware of it—the slimy sensation dribbling down his skin—once he had. He wasn't entirely able to suppress the shudder that ran through him when he realized just how uncomfortably wet the sheets had become around his stomach and hips, and he looked to the side just to be sure she hadn't vomited at some point during the night.

Finding the sheets free and clear of something considerably worse than saliva, he sighed, both out of relief and consternation. Despite feeling happy that he hadn't been puked on, being a human spittoon was far from sanitary or enjoyable to think about, and the girl didn't seem to be showing any signs of awakening any time soon. Every grumbling snore that left her brought with it a fresh deluge of the viscous slime, and, it was about the time she started blowing bubbles in it that he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it much longer.

Loath to ruin the sleep that was anything but beautiful, Wesley grasped Molleen by the shoulders and gently shook her.

“Molleen," he whispered. “Come on girl, time to wake up."

When she didn't stir, he shook her a little harder.

“Molleen," he called out to her louder to no avail.

Frustrated and anxious, he suddenly shook her roughly and shouted, “Molleen!" to which the slumbering canine jolted and abruptly looked up at him from her sodden, fleshy pillow.

“Wha?" she slurred. “What's-a-matter, Wes? Why you wake me up?"

Arching his brown and cringing at the numerous threads of drool that still tied them together, Wesley cleared his throat and did his best not to dwell on the sight too much.

“I think you were trying to eat me," he said wanly.

She only looked at him blearily, obviously confused.

“Look down," he encouraged.

Looking down, Molleen jerked a bit when a cold tendril of saliva broke against her nose-pad. Bemused by it, she took stock of where it had come from, and finding large gobs of the stuff on Wesley's stomach, she brought a paw to bear in order to assess the situation further. Mystified, she played with it for a short time, struggling to comprehend why it was there and what had produced it.

“Why's your stomach all wet and sticky, Wes?" She eventually asked, the truth eluding her in her wakening fog. “Did I miss something fun?"

Wesley eyed her, his nonplussed expression lost on the puzzled dog.

“You're kidding," he asked, rhetorically.

She shook her head at him, “Nope; why?"

“I said that you were trying to eat me?"

“And?"

“And then you found a bunch of goo on my stomach?"

“…Okay? What does that have to do with eating you?" Molleen asked innocently before her eyes widened, her pupils shrunk, and her face exploded in red. “O-Oh my God! D-Did I…Did I blow you?"

Wesley snorted and grimaced at the abruptness of such a lewd question.

“W-Wha?" he eked out dumbly.

“Y-You know…D-did I give you…Oral sex?"

Wesley's eye actually twitched at that.

“I-I know what 'blow' means." He pointlessly affirmed.

“W-Well did I or not?!" Molleen shouted, mortified. “Is all this crap a bunch of jizz that I've been laying in all night?! Gross!"

“N-No!" He replied, wildly gesticulating in panic. “It's nothing like that at all, I swear! And, please, can you not talk like that? It's embarrassing!"

“Then what the hell is this stuff, Wes?!" She flicked some of the saliva that she had collected on her fingers onto his chest, and he cringed in disgust.

“Molleen, stop! Don't do that, it's gross!"

“Then if it's not jizz, tell me what it is!"

“It's spit, Molleen. Your spit!" he exclaimed pointedly. “You were drooling all over me! You were like a leaky faucet just oozing on my stomach. I thought it was gross; you started blowing bubbles; I couldn't take it anymore; I woke you up; here we are! That's it! That's what it is; that's all that happened! You didn't blow me; I didn't take advantage of you! The end! Now, can we please—please!—just move on? I would really like to get up and take a shower right about now."

Taken aback, Molleen only stared at him for a moment before she glanced down at the shimmery, translucent liquid on his stomach, then to what still clung to her paw. She rolled it around in her fingers, sniffed it—which Wesley found disgusting—and then wiped her paw not-so-casually against her chest and looked away. Realization seemed to dawn on her with all the subtlety of a freightliner crashing into a bridge pilon, and with shame evident upon her face, she met his gaze only with an aside glance.

“I-I…" She stammered stiffly. “S-sorry, Wes."

Wesley sighed, letting much of his frustration and embarrassment go upon his exhale.

“It's fine," he said surly, but honestly. “I really just want to move past this and grab a shower."

“Mean it?" she asked timidly. “You forgive me?"

He nodded firmly, “Yes, all the way; you're forgiven."

“A-And we can just put this behind us?"

“Absolutely; one-hundred percent."

“And we're still friends? You still love me?"

“Of course, and yes, yes I do," he hastily affirmed. “But, Molleen, that shower; that…that really needs to happen, okay?"

“Oh!" Molleen exclaimed as if only then realizing that she was still on top of him, and that he was, in fact, still covered in her drool. “Sorry; yes, go shower. Again, so sorry!"

Wesley was up and all but sprinting out of the bedroom the moment she moved.

“Don't worry about it," he called over his shoulder from the bathroom as he started the water and immediately jumped in. He didn't even care that the spray was cold for several seconds as he snatched up the soap, worked it into a lather, and gruffly cleansed himself of the slimy ichor. The many suds that were washed away brought to him reoccurring sighs of relief and ecstasy. His body physically felt better; his mind was at ease, and he sat down on the bottom of the tub and let the warming water flow over him.

“W-Wes?" He heard from the doorway only a scant few minutes later.

“Yeah, Molleen?"

“W-Would it be alright if I joined you?" she asked hesitantly. “I feel gross."

“Sure," Wesley replied without hesitation, or any real consideration to her request at all. The water just felt so nice; besides, his mind immediately rationalized that she had seen him naked before, just as it had the prior evening. The only difference between the two situations was the degree of ease that it came to him then.

Molleen, however, felt immeasurably more surprised by his acquiescence than she thought she would. She assumed that he would have at least been a bit more hesitant to the idea given his prior reservations the night before. Not that she was going to argue the point, however. It simply stood out in her mind as unusual, albeit, pleasantly so if her furiously wagging tail was any indication to go by.

Feeling an almost profound sense of confidence, she strode into the bathroom towards the tub. She took note of Wesley's silhouette sitting on the bottom and, feeling perhaps a bit more flirtatious than was otherwise appropriate in retrospect to everything that had happened between them thus far, she gripped the door and slid it open, her legs parting just enough to advertise a more private part of her anatomy.

Wesley glanced up at her, and she smiled as she caught his eyes lingering upon her dappled jewel before they quickly traced their way to her face. He looked flushed and ready to apologize; but, Molleen simply played it off, acting as though she hadn't noticed to spare them both the awkwardness of that conversation as she stepped into the tub and closed the door.

She sat down in front of him with her back facing his chest, in part to facilitate a proper washing, and in part to hide the grin which split her muzzle wide.

“This is nice," she sighed, settling down. “I wasn't able to enjoy the water as much last night; everything hurt so bad."

“Y-Yeah," replied Wesley, clearly embarrassed. “H-How do you feel this morning?"

She shrugged. “Better; my head still hurts a bit and I'm still a tinge crampy. But, nothing like last night. I actually feel like a living creature again!"

“Well that's good; glad you're feeling better."

“Mm-hmm."

For a moment, only the sound of the shower running filled the silence between them. With her back turned towards him, Wesley was more-or-less free to scrutinize the Dalmatian, and while he still admittedly had reservations about objectifying her, he wasn't quite able to help himself. She was svelte and curved so finely that no mortal hand could ever hope to achieve her likeness. The way her neck dipped past her delicately sloping shoulders like a swan, down the valley of her spine to her rounded and supple hips which extending just beyond her waistline, not overtly fat, but certainly plump enough to be a handful.

She was exhilarating to look at, and, the more he stared, the more his inhibitions seemed to dwindle away. She was like a living work of art; her spotted colors of white a black were so rich and bold. How had he never seen that before, he wondered? Her folded ears fit just right upon the sides of her head; her tail, which lightly thumped against the rub, was just long enough to keep her modest, perfect for her size in every way. Lycanthropic or not, her femininity was simply undeniable, her form like an hourglass, beautiful in ways that he had never considered.

“Wesley?" He heard her call out to him, and, in his amorous state, even her voice was attractive to him.

“Hmm?"

“Up here, sweetheart."

Wesley glanced upwards and almost started when he saw a hazel eye staring back at him. The shock was enough to remind him of where his own eyes had just been, and he flushed crimson as the shame swelled inside of him.

“For someone so unsure, you sure do like to stare at me when you think I'm not looking," she said casually. “And, you still look cute when you blush, by the way."

“…Eh-heh." Wesley rubbed his face in embarrassment. “Th-thanks I guess? Sorry for staring…again."

Molleen merely shrugged her beautiful shoulders.

“I'm not," she assured him. “I still think it's flattering."

“Y-Yeah?"

She nodded.

“T-then maybe it's only fair to tell you that, as hung up as I am on the whole 'you're a mythological dog' thing, and also the 'you're formerly my dog' thing, I do find you attractive, Molleen."

“Do you?" she smiled over her shoulder at him, her tail beating even harder against the tub.

“Yeah," he replied, seeming suddenly sure of himself, as if to admit such a thing out loud would bring him peace.

And it did.

“I think you're very, very attractive; sexy, even."

Molleen flushed at the compliment; but, she didn't look away.

“I'm glad to hear that," she said. “And I think you're very, very handsome; especially for someone as old as you are," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him as he cringed.

“H-Hey now! I'm not that old!"

“Hehe!" she giggled. “O-oh, I don't know, forty-two is starting to get up there! I-I mean, you're old enough to be my dad technically!"

Wesley only partially feigned a wounded look. “Come on now; that hurts my feelings. And I thought young ladies liked older men?"

“I never said I didn't like you," she replied, turning on her rear to actually face him properly. “I said that you were handsome, didn't I."

“Yeah; but, you called me old; like, 'dad' old."

“Mm-hmm," she nodded. “And there's nothing wrong with that; I was just teasing, you know."

Wesley nodded.

“Besides," she continued, “You hardly look your age. What girl doesn't want a man that looks like he's in his twenties, but has all the experience of a man twice that age?"

He shrugged noncommittally. “I kind of hope you do," he admitted.

Molleen smiled brightly, her tail all but uncontrollable blur as it wagged noisily behind her.

“And if I do?" she asked coquettishly.

Wesley looked at her as if truly gaging what he was about to say, seemingly weighing it against his trepidation and uncertainty. Mere moments of inner deliberation rather felt like a lifetime to him; but, it all happened in a smattering of seconds. Ultimately, he realized that of those two things, neither of them really mattered. They both made a world of sense, to be sure; they were a typical response to the unknown. And yet, while the entire situation was far from normal, the only abnormal thing about it spanned no further than the physical level. It was as simple as that: Molleen looked different. Everything else seemed fairly typical of any couple really.

All that aside, however, and upon some personal introspection which only scratched the surface of a deeper, untapped well of kinks, Wesley admittedly found the idea of Molleen's physical differences exciting, alluring, and curiously desirable.

“Maybe we take another small step forwards?" He suggested.

“Oh?" she asked. “And what kind of 'small step' would that be?"

Wesley quickly looked her over, taking note of all of her differences—primarily her canine attributes—to proffer a final affirmation to his conscience that everything about her was truly acceptable to him. Fur, spots, muzzle, cute, floppy ears, a wagging tail; there was nothing about her that he really didn't like.

Swallowing hard, his heart hammered away in his chest; but, he smiled in spite of it as he leaned forward slightly and said, “Maybe something of the physical kind?"

Flushing, but not to be intimidated by Wesley's bemusing sense of boldness, Molleen grinned, her teeth showing as she very nearly met the man halfway, their lips only centimeters apart as she replied, “Really? Are you sure you want that so soon, when, just last night, you were supposedly 'unsure' about it?"

Wesley, not retreating from their intimate proximity, merely shrugged slightly.

“What can I say? I'm pretty good at making life-altering decisions faster than most men can. It kind of comes with my job. Besides, you've apparently been eying me up for years and sampled the goods; maybe I want to try something off menu for a change, too."

Molleen blushed harder as her tail beat a raucous tempo behind her.

“I already apologized for what I did; but, you should know that it came from a good place."

“What; molesting me when I was asleep?"

“Yes," she nodded. “You're so damn handsome and good to me; it really got into my head. I just wanted to be closer to you because I care so deeply about you. Well, that, and you make me incredibly hot without even trying; I resisted touching you for as long as I could."

“And, suppose that you didn't have to resist anymore?"

“Then, I suppose you'd best be ready for what carnage awaits you."

Wesley smiled wickedly. “I'd like to take my chances; and, I don't think you understand the meaning of the word."

“Oh? Don't I now?"

“Not in the slightest. It's been a while for me; I'm pent up and ready to go. And, you still need to be punished for what you did."

Molleen fought against the urge to pant as her body began to feel hotter. “P-punish me, huh? Th-that's fair I suppose."

Wesley, still grinning like a mad man, merely shook his head and leaned in closer. “No; you're not going to think so by the time I'm finished with you."

“I-I'm not?" she asked breathlessly.

“Nope!"

Abandoning all sense of morality or apprehension, Wesley firmly captured Molleen's lips with his own as he furiously kissed her, no longer able to restrain himself. The sensation was as unique as it was enticing. Unlike a human woman, her lips were thin and unpuckered at the tip of a moderately long muzzle. As he brought his hands to hold her cheeks, he felt that they were smooth, wet, and gaunt, not merely flesh and bone, but, certainly less plump by comparison. Her tongue, as he parted his lips and took it with his own, was long and thick, reaching far beyond his own meager span as she licked across places inside his mouth that he'd never experienced before.

But, the passion, however, was still very much the same, if not infinitely more intense. He could all but feel the hunger that she had for him, her want and desire as they kissed. It felt more raw, and real, and sensual than any other: a palatable difference between those he'd had before, and the one that he currently shared with her. As she pressed into it, she leaned her body against his own until he had no other choice but to lift her into his lap less he be toppled over onto his back.

Like a puzzle piece, Molleen easily settled upon him as if she had been made to fit. The intimacy felt more palpable that way as well. Unable to resist, his hands roved over every inch of her, taking in the delicate contours of her back, down to her buxom posterior, along the length of her flagging tail, and back again. He ground his hips into her own only instinctually; but, the electric feeling of that satin heat along his erection demanded his full attention.

The warm water upon them seemed somehow cold when Wesley pulled back. His next thrust was more deliberate and thoughtful as he reconnected them together and moved only inches along the velvety contours of her sex. Molleen moaned into their kiss, reciprocating as she thrust back, desperately grinding her engorged clitoris against his thick spire. She craved penetration; but, Wesley denied her, conscious enough of his efforts to remain exactly where he was.

Though denied, the pressure between them was more than exhilarating, and more pleasurable than anything Molleen had done on her own. Simply the idea of what was happening between them, the taboo, and deliciously decadent sin they shared as she rocked her hips into him again and again, was enough to summit the peak of a sudden orgasm and, much like the previous morning, she came in a relatively short smattering of minutes. Her body seized and she was forced to break the kiss to draw upon the air that her lungs absolutely starved for. It came to her in wavering pants as her undulating, empty passage convulsed and spit forth thin rivulets of feminine essence that were quickly washed away by the water.

When she came down from her peak, Molleen saw that Wesley was looking smugly at her. He had stopped grinding himself against her sex; but, seemed unperturbed by her rush to the finish line.

“Correct me if I'm wrong," Wesley began as he held her. “But, I thought it was men that typically came too quickly? I think the saying is a 'one pump chump', or something along those lines?"

Molleen's flush deepened. “Y-Yeah, well…" She sighed, “I've been waiting for this for so long; you just get my motor running without even trying! B-besides, now that I've got mine, we can just focus on you now, stud!"

Wesley's grin hardly faltered; somehow, it seemed even haughtier. “Just me? Is that what you think?"

“Well…Yeah?"

Wesley shook his head, “No, no, no. While I assure you that I am going to get mine, let me remind you that you still have to be punished."

“I-I... haven't forgot about that."

“Good! That's real good, because, that is certainly about to happen. But, before it does, I'd just like to tell you a few things first," he said as he leaned forward to place his lips beside her left ear. “I'm going to make you cum so many times that your stomach will hurt. By the time that I'm through with you, you'll need to stretch to so much as walk. When I do finally get mine, it will be in every orifice you have, and, only once I am too sore to go on will I stop."

“Are we clear?" he asked as he leaned back to gaze upon a shivering, crimson canine. Though her eyes were wide, her pupils were shrunk to mere pinpoints. Her mouth was agape as she struggled, not with words, but to merely breathe. Never in her life had she even imagined Wesley being capable of talking like he did! More shocking than that, however, was the fact that he evidently meant it as his face betrayed no lies. The prospect stunned her, to say the very least on the matter, and, while she was admittedly made almost ravenous by his admission, she was perhaps equally parts terrified of what was to come.

“I asked you," She heard him say with an inflection that sounded positively domineering, and she physically shrieked aloud when she abruptly felt a pinch against her buttock. “Are. We. Clear?"

Molleen nodded emphatically, too scrambled to formulate words as she stared into Wesley's smiling, but callous face.

“Good," he said, patting the same cheek gently. She still jumped regardless. “Now, this is what we're going to do. We're going to get out of the shower. You're going to dry off as best as possible in one minute; then, you're going to go to our room, lie on your back on the bed, and wait for me. I'm going to gather a few things, and then I'll join you. You are not to touch yourself in any way, understand? Anything you do but lie there before I get to the bedroom will be subject to more punishment. If you're not in the bedroom in one minute, you will be subject to more punishment. One minute; are we clear?"

Molleen merely nodded again as a feeling of true fear began to mingle with the excitement.

“Excellent!" He proclaimed as he picked her up and sat her down on the tub before him. “One last thing. Molleen, look at me."

She immediately did as he instructed.

“I don't want to actually hurt you in any way. If something I'm doing to you is way out of your comfort zone or too painful to manage, let me know and I'll stop right away. This is a big moment for both of us I imagine, and I don't want to ruin it by being overzealous. But, I do want to do some kinky shit to you, if I'm being honest!"

Molleen could almost hear the sound of her mental gears grinding as if shifted incorrectly. The whiplash caused by Wesley's sudden one-eighty was almost enough to make her head spin, and, although the latter part of the two personalities seemed more like the man she'd always known, she was admittedly looking forward to encountering the other, more forceful one locked away inside. Despite the concern he conveyed, the look upon his face remained predatorial and hungry, and she wasn't sure whether she was more nervous, or thrilled, to experience whatever 'kinky shit' was!

“I-I understand, Wes," she replied at length, and then managed a demure, but saucy smile. “And, don't you worry, I'm a big girl, I can take a little bit of pain, especially from you!"

Wesley only grinned back at her. “We'll see, puppy."

His voice carried with it an almost malevolent sound that bit at her ears, and Molleen actually trembled against it.

“Sh-Should I go now?" she asked.

“About five seconds ago; yes."

In a dash, Molleen all but vaulted over the tub wall and ripped a dry towel from off the vanity adjacent. She furiously rubbed herself down, desperately trying to dry herself before the time allotted to her expired. Damp and soggy, she threw her first towel aside and scrambled for another, nearly toppling over as she reached for it, recovered, and repeated the process.

By her third towel, Molleen was moderately dry; however, a glance to a sinister-looking Wesley spoke volumes of the time that she had wasted. Frantic, and feeling a palpable sense of actual dread, she took to all four-legs as she sprinted out of the bathroom, slipping her way across the tiled floor before gaining traction on the more forgiving carpet, and bolted to the bedroom where she jumped up onto the bed, and then slumped to her side in a panting huff.

“Not bad!" She heard Wesley proclaim from beyond the bedroom door. “I see that you actually took my warning to heart!" She heard him chuckle then, not the sound of someone truly humored, but, that of a madman knowing that he'd won.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she heard him coming down the hallway.

“Too bad you were ten seconds too late." He said, and, whether there was actually any validity to that statement or not, his looming visage in the doorway begged of her to be silent. She panted all the harder as she saw him standing there. In her eyes, he had never seemed so large and formidable, dangerous and foreboding: a harbinger of lust and destruction. In his hands—powerful and devastating—he carried a small, translucent box filled with an assortment of things that she could not yet see, and a towel was draped over his forearm. Once more, she saw him naked; but, unlike any moment in the past, she truly saw him then through the eyes of a potential mate—or, perhaps a victim—and what she gleaned was truly disconcerting.

Wesley was anything but form-fitting; the erect spire that jutted so prominently from his groin was akin to a battering ram: long, thick, and unyielding. For the first time in her life as she gazed upon something that could actually tear her apart from the inside out, she considered that perhaps her lust for the man had been a bit premature, and that actually having sex with him wasn't the grand idea that she thought it was.

“I'm afraid you'll have to be punished for that." His voice, like a sexual Titan, battered through her inner monologue with the subtlety of a mallet striking an anvil. She recoiled, only slightly, as the rest of her body was frozen in what felt like fear, but captivated her like desire. He broached her bedside with long, even strides, his ample girth bobbing with every step. They sounded like thunder in her ears, louder every moment he drew nearer, but drew to an unsatisfactory crescendo when he finally stopped and stood over her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up at his face and was immediately drawn to the predatory, toothy grin that she found there. For all intents and purposes, Wesley looked positively prepared to consume her: mind, body, and spirit. There was a certain menace in the way that he stared back at her for a time. It felt as though he was merely waiting for her to make a move, to twitch or flee before he attacked. It left her feeling so unnerved and cowed; yet, somehow aroused beyond comparison, and it was strange to Molleen to fill the part of the hunted, the prey as it were. But, there was something undeniably alluring about it as well.

“That's a good girl," Wesley whispered to her. “You wait to be told what to do; I like that." He casually set the box down on the bed beside her and covered it with the towel that he had been holding before she could get a decent look inside of it.

Wesley apparently caught her being curious and guided her prying muzzle away from the box with a single finger, forcing her to look at him again.

“We'll get to that soon enough," he said. “For now, though, I want you on your knees."

Molleen's ears perked a bit, and she flushed deeply.

“O-On the bed, o-or on the floor?" she asked cautiously.

“Where do you think?"

Molleen swallowed hard and fought the urge to whimper as Wesley passively stroked his length with his right hand, and, though his question had obviously been rhetorical, she replied regardless.

“Th-The floor?"

Wesley only grinned wider and nodded. Though trembling and hesitant, Molleen did as she was told and pushed herself away from the bed, slid down the end of the mattress, and came to rest gingerly upon her knees. In front of her, Wesley towered above her in more ways than one. Crimson fire burned in her cheeks as she couldn't help but gawk at the ample fruit that dangled just above her head, thick and robust; an utter paw-full to be sure, and above which, they were shaded by the hearty trunk of his phallus. It was even more impressive up close, and infinitely more daunting to consider managing it. It was handily longer than her muzzle, end every bit as wide. From beneath it, her snout all but disappeared, and, in glancing up to see Wesley's lecherous smile beaming down at her, it still filled the majority of her vision.

“You look so small down there," he abruptly said to her. “I hope you don't choke on it."

Molleen shuddered, anticipating, and dreading, the very real possibility of asphyxiation.

“Y-You want me t-to…T-to put it in my m-mouth?" she stuttered, and then jolted as Wesley suddenly grasped the back of her head and prevented her from withdrawing.

“It isn't going to suck itself, pup," he replied, lewdly rubbing his cock along the length of her muzzle and about her face. “But, we can take it slow at first, ease you into it if you want. After all, you're mine for however long I want you, and I want you for a good, long while!"

Wesley pulled back only as far as to let the tip of his cock glide down her muzzle and then settle against her thin, quivering lips.

“Now, open up, and let's put that mouth to good use, eh?"

Molleen hesitated, if only for a moment to truly consider backing out of it. Wesley would never force her into doing something she was wildly uncomfortable with; the man had said so much himself. But, he was absolutely massive to her by comparison; there was no doubt in her mind that his lengthy girth would do more than gag her. Nevertheless, she had committed to some false sense of bravado in telling him earlier that she didn't mind a little discomfort, and, beyond that, her own lustful sense of curiosity wouldn't be satiated any other way.

Swallowing thickly, the quivering canine slowly parted her trembling lips and bared her maw to him, her tongue dipping just beyond her mandible as if to welcome him inside.

“That's it," Wesley whispered to her as he laid the first few inches of himself upon her tongue and inside her mouth. “Good girl! Now, just work it slow and take your time; for now, it's all you. I want to see what you've got; prove to me that you want it."

Despite having his cock within her mouth, Molleen still flushed crimson at how dirty Wesley was talking to her. She had never imagined him to be capable of the vulgarity with which he spoke, or the depravity with which he treated her. In all her life, he had only been a stalwart figure of kindness and plutonic love, somebody that cared for her unconditionally and treated her fairly. But that was a far cry from the immoral monster that stood ready to ravage her, the one that demanded her obedience and submission, and commanded her to please him.

The realization suddenly dawned on her then that Wesley did not need to wait; he did not have to take it slow, or ask her permission to do anything if he really wanted it. As she sat there on her knees with his cock in her mouth, she slowly sealed her thin lips around him and suckled, understanding that he was entirely capable of taking everything from her by force, and then sheer thrill of it turned her on more than she ever had been before.

Wesley groaned as she began to work him, slowly at first to find a good cadence. It was worth noting again his ample size which, as she bobbed slightly along a few inches or so of it, forced her cheeks outwards and trapped her tongue beneath its base. Sealed had perhaps been a strong word as drool hastily escaped from the opened corners of her mouth where no such thing was possible, the structure of her maw proving too unique, and small, perhaps, to properly accommodate him.

Nevertheless, she persisted to take in another inch, her tongue thrust as far from her mandible as would his cock allow to caress what remained cold and untouched beyond her lips. She felt a sudden spasm rocket through her paramour, and the delight it brought to her spurred her on. Although she held her position, she bobbed her head faster, steadily finding a rhythm between her protruding tongue and mouth that Wesley seemed to appreciate, if she could assume as much by his guttural moans of pleasure and the grip he held about her head.

A minute more, and Molleen began to feel more confident. She pushed her muzzle forward, taking in as much of Wesley's heady length as she could before the urge to gag forced her to stop. She paused only to look up at him, her shimmering eyes catching his own before she grinned around her mouthful and proceeded to work him harder, never looking away as she bobbed and suckled as best she could.

Her throat squelched with every downward motion, impeding her ability to breathe; although, she found herself unconcerned by that fact. The look of sheer, unabashed bliss upon Wesley's face was more than enough to encourage her efforts and embolden her to be a bit more adventurous than she had otherwise been feeling.

On a particular upstroke, Molleen took in a breath as deep as she could. She had gleaned some models on the internet while Wesley had been away at work taking a cock deep into their throat, literally swallowing the ample meat proffered to them and giving their partner a pleasure beyond that of simple oral sex. The males always looked so lost when that happened, their eyes glazed over in only the most satisfying of ways as they themselves struggled to breathe, or even truly comprehend what was happening to them.

She wanted Wesley to feel the same way, wanted to see him so lost in his hormones that the entire world could come to an apocalyptic end and he'd never be the wiser. Steeling herself for what was about to come, Molleen lowered her muzzled gradually, ignoring the copious amounts of drool dripping from her chin as she dipped closer and closer towards his base. His phallus touched the back of her throat, and she gagged for a moment as she struggled to fight the niggling feeling away. She focused hard, retracted only so far as to draw in another breath, and she pushed herself to her limit.

Reflexively, Molleen swallowed as Wesley's cock entered her throat. It bulged with an obvious outline of the man visible through her flesh and coat while he groaned more vociferously than he had, and she watched with hardly veiled satisfaction as his eyes rolled back into his head.

His brain was short-circuiting, and she lavished in the knowledge that she had caused it. She withdrew, and repeated the act, finding that he nearly buckled whenever she swallowed, and endeavored to do so as much as possible. It was no easy feat, however, with his cock stretching her throat almost uncomfortably, and the urge to breathe becoming increasingly troublesome. Nevertheless, the act itself was becoming curiously easier as her gag reflex relented over the many seconds he spent beyond her tonsils, and his pleasure was more than worth any discomfort she experienced.

It was a strange sensation, something akin to swallowing a bite slightly too big to swallow correctly. There was a feeling of fullness beyond her tongue that encouraged her instincts to try and take it down, even though she knew she couldn't. Wesley hardly seemed concerned about her musings, however, and it served to stoke the raging inferno burning inside her belly all the more.

He suddenly thrust a few times into her maw, and, unfortunately, it was enough to shatter her sexually charged reverie and stimulate her barely tamed reflexes. She gagged sharply, and, as the contractions in her throat tried to expel his deeply embedded cock, the man shuttered violently and actually buckled to his knees. His cock abruptly slipped from her throat, leaving beyond a sharp stinging sensation as she coughed, sputtered, and fought the urge to vomit.

Molleen slumped forward as she gasped for breath, heedless of the spittle that she spat from her maw in thick strings onto the carpet below her. Her eyes watered as she tried to collect herself, the soreness in her throat stinging and forcing her to swallow frequently. After a smattering of suffering seconds, she managed to pull herself together, successful in her efforts not to vomit, and she peered up into the troubled countenance evident upon Wesley's face.

“A-are you alright, baby?" he asked her hesitantly, concern equally evident in his voice.

She managed to smile up at him as she waved off his trepidation. “Y-yeah," she choked out, her voice hoarse. “Just caught me off guard there is all, stud."

Wesley frowned at her. “I'm sorry, girl. I shouldn't have done that."

She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, I'm kind of flattered that I managed to work you up like that. I've never done that before."

“Yeah," he replied pensively. “It was…Well, I don't have the words to describe what that was. There wasn't a clear though in my head, and, well, I guess I just got caught up in the moment and instinct took over." He sighed, “Again, I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Molleen's brow furrowed, and she frowned back at him. “Wes, really, it's okay. I'm fine; please don't let this ruin the moment." She sat up upon her haunches again, and, if only to provoke the man's libido again, spread them slightly to flash her drooling cunt.

“If it makes you feel better, I've never been hotter in my life. Whatever that was, just look at what it's done to me!" She reached down and spread the wet lips of her vulva, exposing the swollen, pink walls beyond. “I'm dripping like a faucet! You can't just leave me like this, can you?"

She pouted at him just to emphasize her need, and the effect it had on Wesley was quite evident as his cock bobbed back to life, appearing almost painful as he stared, slack-jawed, at her quivering jewel.

Wesley swallowed thickly.

“N-no," he stammered. “I certainly can't ignore that." He tore his eyes away from her sex, and looked at her evenly in the eyes. “I think you've more than earned what I have in store for you. But, after my little mishap there, consider us square. Now, I only want to make you feel good."

He reached out and gently clasped her shoulder. “I want you to use me like you did, girl; only, this time, I'll be a conscious participant. I want to please you in ways you haven't even imagined or seen before. You think those guys on the web know what they're doing?"

Molleen flushed hotly again as Wesley smiled predatorially at her.

“Oh, I've put two-and-two together now," he said. “All this time I thought there was something wrong with my browser; I knew I was smart enough to clear my history. Until now, I had no idea how those links stayed active, you naughty girl."

He ruffled her ears teasingly, furthering her embarrassment. “They don't hold a candle to the things I can do."

Molleen's pupils shrunk again. He sounded so sure of himself, and, a look at his toothy grin did not detract from that assurance.

“You seem worried, puppy," he said condescendingly. “Don't be; I'll only make you see the face of God, that's all. I mean, I'm a surgeon; intimate knowledge of anatomy comes with the territory, including…" He leaned forward to bring his teeth to bear against the side of her neck and nipped her gently, causing her to tremble anew.

“…everything about your sopping, wet, quivering, pussy."

Molleen was almost beside herself. Just his mere words alone almost sent her to an orgasmic high. He was so voracious and forward, and so unexpected. He just wasn't the same Wesley in that moment; he wasn't a man that she had matured with, no. He was Wesley, lord of her body and epitome of her desires, and she had never needed something so bad in her life.

“On the bed, pup," he commanded. “Leave your hips on the edge, and let me do all the work."

In a flash, and, like the obedient, horny mutt that she was, she complied, all but rushing the bed, rolling to her back, and exposing her dripping snatch to him.

Wesley smiled. “Good girl," he said, positioning himself in front of her. “Now, I'm going to take your legs, place them on my shoulders, and consume you like it'll be my last meal on earth. Sound good?"

Molleen's head was a crimson blur as she nodded, overeager, perhaps, to be eaten alive.

“Good!" Wesley then gently grasped her hind legs in his hands and did as he said he would. The unique anatomy of her lower extremities settled surprisingly well over the broad caps of his shoulders, and it felt remarkably comfortable for Molleen to keep them spread. The position, however, was mortifyingly compromising, leaving her rump lifted and her genitals completely exposed. Even her tail—which flagged of its own accord regardless—had no hope of covering her had she the inclination to.

It would have only tickled Wesley's chin had she tried, and, as he neared her dripping passage, she felt the warmth of his breath wash over her, and a pleasurable tingle rocketed up her spine.

“Ready?" Wesley grinned at her, to which she again nodded with her previous enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me know when it's too much!" She hardly had the time to consider what Wesley meant before Molleen's world exploded in ecstasy. The first lap of his thick tongue merely traced along the outer lips of her labia, and, already, she was feeling close to the edge. Briefly, she cursed her lack of control and willpower before the next lap robbed her entirely of her ability to think. Her awareness became completely centered around the glorious sensations emanating from her cunt. There was no other need, no other want, nothing else to worry about: just her, her pussy, and the man that was playing her like a trumpet.

She was only vaguely aware of the hand that he laid across her stomach, pinning her down as his tongue truly went to work. It pried her lips apart, exposing the increasingly sensitive flesh beneath, and lapped at her opening in slow, deliberate strokes.

She cried out and tried to thrust; but, Wesley held firm to her and prevented it. Again and again he licked her, and, for each revolution, she felt the desperate urge to grind against him. He would not relent, however, and soon the surmounting pleasure she felt reached a peak that was not quite orgasmic, but far from being relaxed. It was like being on the precipice of something great, yet only being able to observe the glorious valley beneath it from a distance.

She wined noticeably, wordlessly pleading for Wesley to help her. Nevertheless, he seemed to be in no certain hurry, content entirely on teasing her and keeping her on the razor's edge. Admittedly, she felt a pang of loathing for the man, put out that he chose to torture her instead of rescue her.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, however. After all, she had a debt to repay, even if he had just previously claimed that all was forgiven. Still, it was immeasurably disappointing and frustrating, so much so that, more than once, she thought about ending it if only to take care of it herself.

But, Wesley was far more privy to her anguish than she realized. He wasn't content to let her suffer, not for too long in any regard. Years of experience had lent themselves to an intimate knowledge of cunnilingus; too fast, and the orgasm wasn't as satisfying. Too slow, and a woman was bound to lose interest. There was a fine line between the two, a sharp point at the tip of which was something so powerful, so profound, that it was bound to leave his current mate breathless.

Sensing an unfavorable tipping point fast approaching, Wesley changed tactics. It hadn't taken him long to find her engorged bud. The little button of pleasure was absolutely throbbing with need, and, so far, he had only grazed it to keep her aroused. That was no longer appropriate; it was time to lavish it with the attention it so deserved, and send Molleen's mind to places that it had never been before.

The uniqueness of her anatomy, however, again became cause for further introspection. She was different than a human woman. Whereas a human woman's vulva was prominently flat and internalized to the body, Molleen's was more pronounced and protruded away from her groin. In her current position, it largely resembled a teardrop, narrow at the tip and sloping outwards towards the base. It was also significantly thicker, juicier, perhaps, than he had anticipated.

In consideration, and, admittedly lewd curiosity, it definitely looked like something that could be suckled upon. He assumed that it could be taken entirely into his mouth, and further assumed that the added stimulation would be quite appreciated.

Molleen had certainly earned something to be grateful for; who was he to deny her any further?

Without another thought, Wesley slurped gladly at her sex, sticking his tongue right against her button and suckling sharply, forcing her pussy past his lips and into his mouth where he assaulted her clit with reckless abandon.

Molleen's reaction was almost immediate. It felt like a stone had struck her in the gut and thrown her off the precipice and down into a valley of bliss that literally took her breath away. She gasped only once, and came like a spurting fountain into Wesley's awaiting mouth. She hadn't thought herself to be what the internet identified as a “squirter"; but, that consideration hardly mattered as she felt the liquid be expelled from her body. She hoped briefly that she didn't taste bad; but, the insurmountable pleasure cascading through her body like a hurricane swiftly drowned the feeble concern.

It didn't abate, either; not for several seconds. Every wave, every tremor, they were almost nauseating to experience. Her legs trembled upon Wesley's shoulders; her forearms hurt as she grasped the sheets. Even her stomach began to cramp after a time, and her lungs burned as she struggled to breathe. When she did finally come crashing down from the height of her orgasm, she panted for breath, and found herself almost entirely exhausted. Her body physically ached, but in a way that was so enjoyable words utterly failed to describe it.

As her awareness gradually returned to her, Molleen felt her sex still inside Wesley's mouth. It was noticeably sensitive, almost painfully so. Thankfully, however, her paramour left it alone, seemingly aware of her vulnerability, and content to let it rest inside his warm, moist cavern, a sensation that was as curiously comforting as it was delightful.

It was odd to her then as she considered just how something so lewd could make her feel so safe and loved, as if it wasn't just her most intimate of parts being tended to, but her entire being. Through it, she felt somehow light as a feather, and heavier than lead. She was alight in the afterglow of a fire that still smoldered somewhere deep inside of her, the lust not gone, but certainly muted to some degree.

With a sigh, Molleen finally released a vast amount of tension she wasn't even aware of. She'd been coiled like a spring apparently, and, as it unwound, the ease spread throughout her muscles like tepid waters, flowing until they reached her entrapped pussy, and brought with them soothing relief, and something neither her, nor Wesley had been expecting.

She squelched inside his mouth, the sound regrettably akin to a muffled burb, and she shuttered in sheer embarrassment as she felt a little dribble of something that was obviously not his saliva drip out of her.

“S-sorry," she stammered as she brought both of her paws to her face and hid her blush behind them. “Th-that was gross."

Wesley didn't seem perturbed in the least, however. While she anguished about how revolting it must have been for him, and worried that she had spoiled the mood, her paramour made no sounds of disgust, or did his face betray the sentiment. He made no move to relinquish her sex, either, much to her surprise. Instead, he merely grinned wolfishly around it, and seemed to chuckle in what sounded like satisfaction.

“Mm-mmm," he denied wordlessly, earning more than just her curiosity.

“Y-you don't think so?" she asked hesitantly, admittedly fearful that she had misunderstood somehow. She hadn't had sex before, not directly in any regard. But, she couldn't imagine that doing that inside her partner's mouth could be anything but abhorrent, let alone sexy.

It was disrespectful at best, and repugnant at worst.

Nevertheless, Wesley remained unmoved, and just continued to smile up at her from between her thighs.

“Mm-mmm," he repeated simply.

Molleen began to feel the heat rise within her again; yet, the uncertainty still persisted.

“B-but I-I….Just…J-just…" she couldn't spit the words out; they were just too embarrassing to say aloud. “I…D-did it taste bad?"

Wesley chuckled again as he shook his head slightly and licked her suddenly, causing her to jolt and gasp.

“Mm-mmm," he repeated for a third time before she felt that adventurous tongue abruptly thrust into her body, and she instinctively spread her legs wider.

“O-oh God," she moaned, her sensitivity persisting, but abated enough for her lust to build again as she felt his tongue twist and writhe and wriggle inside of her.

“Just—ah!—j-just—Mmm!—d-don't do anything you don't want—oh!—to!"

She was vaguely aware of Wesley's muted laughter before he began to utterly devour her once again. Unlike the first time, there was no hesitation or pretense from him. Clearly, he wasn't looking to leave her anywhere near the edge as much as he was trying to bypass it altogether. And, she was plenty worked up, too, attributed, not only to her prior orgasm, but by how salacious his proclivities were.

She'd just had an…episode, she considered to avoid a more inappropriate word, inside his mouth; and, not only had Wesley taken it in stride, but, he had apparently drawn some intense, perverted satisfaction from it if she could assume as much from the ravenous way in which he pleasured her.

From Wesley's perspective, his mind was almost completely clouded by lust. He had never been more turned on in his life, and his erection was so hard, it actually pained him. Molleen was entirely unlike any woman that he'd ever been with. The intimacy shared between them was incomparable, and everything about her plucked just the right strings. Cliché though it was to assume, her moans really were like music to his ears. Her subtle twitching drove him positively wild! She felt soft, supple, and vulnerable beneath his hands. Her breathing was like the sighs of angels. She smelled better than any perfume, cologne, flower, or food that he'd ever smelled before; and, her taste, her fluid, was akin to water such that without it, he thought he might actually die.

Everything about Molleen drove Wesley forward, forced him to dive deeper into her drooling, savory cunny so that nothing escaped untasted. She was deliciously decadent inside, soft like felt and hot like the sun. It drove him to near maddening levels of desperation as he plunged even deeper, desperately trying to seek out those crevices that were beyond his means of sampling. Her nectar tasted stronger there; but, it simply wasn't enough to satisfy the hunger that he was experiencing as his chin crashed into her puckered anus, and he knew that he'd reached his feeble limits.

It was good; however, like proffering a meager appetizer to someone literally starving, it did little more than aggravate his insatiable appetite. While Molleen certainly seemed to appreciate his efforts, he wanted quite a bit more from the quivering canine. His lust-addled brain swiftly sought for an amicable solution to both their problems. He wanted to please her and send her crashing headlong into another orgasm; however, his hunger would not be denied. Like an addict, he positively needed a fix, and the lower dose of the stuff clearly wasn't going to cut it.

Instead, he considered the position of his chin, and a sudden, terribly lewd idea crossed his mind. Surely, she would taste stronger there, he considered. It was raw and untapped, likely unsullied by anything. He didn't think Molleen to be quite so adventurous; in her lonely endeavors, he rather doubted that she had ever played with herself there.

Briefly, the notion of her being unreceptive of what he was honestly considering crossed his mind. But, the beast inside was quick to dash the trivial concern, swearing to his libido that, not only would he find what he was seeking, but that she would experience a new, taboo form of pleasure unlike anything she'd ever felt before!

It was enough for Wesley to give in almost immediately. With a lewd, stringy, suckling pop, Molleen's cunt reappeared from his mouth, glinting and shivering in the cold air. He watched as she shuddered and looked at him questioningly, her flushing cheeks and rampant panting telling of just how close she had been. But, before she could so much as consider putting words to it, he had already dipped beyond her vulva and had all but crammed his nose into her pucker.

Molleen jolted again and gasped, feeling the warm air wash over her as he sniffed and exhaled repeatedly. Her mind seemed to fracture as she tried to figure out what was going on, why he was down there, and, above all else, if she at least smelled decent. She was fresh from the shower, true; but, that particular area wasn't exactly known for being a wealth of good things. It wasn't that she was dirty—again, a word used in her mind to lessen the implications of another, less savory one. On the contrary, she was a fastidious groomer and almost obsessed over hygiene. It was simply that she hadn't ever even considered the possibility of her tail-hole being subject to anything other than…bathroom needs.

But, it became quite apparent to her as Wesley's tongue lapped roughly against her tight anus, that her paramour certainly had other ideas. The first lick had drawn out a strangled gasp from her lips; the second, a befuddling sigh of pleasure. By the third, she actually moaned, and everything that followed simply left her quivering.

It was a profoundly strange sensation, pleasurable, to be sure, but well within the realm of weird for her. While in her pussy, his tongue had felt warm and inviting, against her anus, it felt somehow slimy and wet, a sensation that became all the more profound as she felt a brief sensation of pressure against her ring before his probing tongue suddenly slipped inside her.

Molleen arched her back, not entirely sure if she wanted to escape the bizarre feeling, or embrace it. It wasn't painful; it was just odd, even more so as she felt it worming around inside her rectum. It left her with a peculiar sense of pressure, similar to, albeit to a lesser extent, of needing to use the bathroom. Nevertheless, there was also an undeniable sense of pleasure emanating from it, stirring her arousal, albeit to a much more perplexing extent.

Ultimately, and, if not without a vast amount of indecision on her part, Molleen simply chose to allow Wesley to explore her body and do with her what he wanted. She wasn't in any pain; he wasn't necessarily doing something intolerable to her. While it certainly felt weird and unusual, it wasn't without its merits, and, the longer he persisted, the better it began to feel, and, the better it felt, the more relaxed she became.

As her back again relaxed against the mattress, Wesley more than doubled his efforts. His assumptions about her taste had been well founded; Molleen's flavor was certainly stronger inside her ass. Despite some initial reservations about actually penetrating her with his tongue—a momentary bout of lucidity having struck him prior to committing the deed—he was more than glad he had taken the risk. The taboo nature alone about what he was doing was more than enough to shift his gears into overdrive. He became acutely aware of everything centered around his tongue and nose. The smell of her, the taste, the feeling of her anus cinching and unclenching around his organ, all beyond comprehension, and all far too invigorating.

It was only with a herculean effort on his part that he had not already leapt upon her like a vandal and abused her body in ways that would've left her sore for weeks. Yet, despite how lost to his own lust that he was, Wesley still had the presence of mind enough to put Molleen's needs before his own. He was bound and determined to give her a third orgasm; one more of hopefully a few yet experienced by her.

Curiosity, however, had more precedence in his mind than he was otherwise capable of realizing. In the moment, all he could focus on was consuming Molleen's ass, which, of course, was responsible for the line of thought urging him to try something new. He'd never made a girl orgasm by stimulating her other hole, as it were. Molleen seemed to be the perfect, if not willing, candidate for such a salacious experiment.

While she could not actually see the wicked grin that flashed across his face, Molleen certainly felt it as his tongue abruptly began to piston in and out of her. It exited entirely, leaving her gaping somewhat, before punching its way back through her weakened defenses. Lewd and terribly wet squelching sounds permeated the air, growing to a crescendo in tandem with a steady, staccato series of groans that were forced past her lips.

A bewildering sense of disbelief crept over Molleen as Wesley voraciously worked her over. Her body began to tingle tellingly, warning her of the impending, explosive bliss that she hadn't thought could, or would, happen from such a bizarre manner of stimulation. But, it was unmistakable the more profound it became. Moaning, she hazarded a glance to her pussy, and, to her immense astonishment, she saw it throbbing and weeping, cinching upon nothing more than its own walls as it tried to milk a cock that wasn't even there.

Seeing her own sex in such a needy state, combined with the slimy abuse of her anus, was more than enough to trigger an orgasm that she admittedly wasn't prepared for. She had meant to warn Wesley before it happened; but, all that came out of her throat was a boisterous, canine-like howl as her pussy erupted, spraying her femininity across Wesley's face and head, and saturating his hair in her musk. A few powerful, errant squirts even crested over him to splatter lewdly across the floor.

When it finally quieted, Molleen felt positively spent. Her body refused to move, and, if not for Wesley holding her legs aloft, they would have likely sagged over the mattress. She could do little more than pant and quiver when she felt her paramour's tongue leave her anus, and the cold that she felt permeate inside of her was evident enough of the fact that it wasn't about to close of its own volition.

She tried clenching her anus voluntarily; however, the effect was little more than a lewd wink that expelled some of Wesley's saliva before opening again, a sight that was most appreciated by the man who simply couldn't look away.

The sum of his deeds thus far was salaciously beautiful to witness. Molleen had been rendered unto a shaky, quivering mess, entirely defenseless and incapable of resisting him. Her every orifice had been penetrated to some extent; and, all of them remained persistently opened as if awaiting something more.

Certainly, he had a lot more to give, considering that Molleen had three orgasms to his none. In the spirit of playing fair, it was only right to take what she had to offer, even if she had not verbally said anything to encourage such lascivious behavior. That was not to say that he was without morality, however. All she needed to do was tell him to stop, and he would do so gladly, even if it left him blue and in the company of his own two hands afterwards.

Somehow, he rather doubted that she would do such a horrible thing to him, though. As spent as she appeared to be, the look in her eyes as he gazed down upon her face still held such vast degrees of lust that it was difficult for him to process anything else, and he briefly wondered then if it would, in fact, be him left broken by the end of their torrid affair.

“You're delicious, by the way," he said abruptly, entirely contrary to the situation at hand, and caused Molleen to chortle breathlessly.

“G-Glad you think so," she panted in reply. “That was weird, just so you know."

Wesley shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But, you seemed to enjoy yourself; at least, I sure hope you did. Otherwise, I just took another shower for nothing."

He ran his fingers through his hair to emphasize his point, and, as little droplets of her essence leapt into the air behind his hand, Molleen flushed, albeit with a smile upon her muzzle.

“I won't say that I d-didn't," she affirmed. “Just pointing out the obvious."

“Yeah," Wesley said as he stood up and let Molleen's legs slide from his shoulders, which then drooped over the side of the bed. “Does that mean you not up for anymore anal play?"

Molleen looked to the side as she considered the idea. Truly, it hadn't been a bad experience; not at all, really. In fact, she rather like the taboo nature of it. In a strange sense, it had seemed so wrong at the time that it almost felt right; and, while she wasn't too confident about taking anything larger than his tongue in her tail-hole, she wasn't willing to write off the idea entirely either.

She shrugged as she shook her head, “No; I'm not saying that. I'd just rather avoid any large surprises in my backdoor, if you know what I mean."

“Absolutely," agreed Wesley. “I don't want to hurt you; anything more than my tongue, and I'll be sure to ask first, and there'll probably be a lot of foreplay before anything else."

“Good."

“…That being said," Wesley looked at her more pensively, almost beggingly. “W-would you be completely opposed to trying something like that?"

Molleen's eyebrows rose. “Like…Like anal sex?"

Wesley simply nodded.

“Like anal sex right now?" she pressed, to which he nodded again.

“L-like I said, there'll be lots of foreplay and loosening you up first," he clarified meekly, feeling suddenly abashed about explaining the idea. “I-I also have several lubricants, one of which—ah—numbs the area; makes you more comfortable…"

For several moments, a silenced yawned between them as Molleen again considered doing something she hadn't thought of before. On the one paw, Wesley was practically begging her for it. Admittedly, her large paramour looked rather pathetic as he stood there, rubbing the back of his head, impatiently awaiting her response. The pitiful sight alone was almost enough to convince her right away. Nevertheless, she was smart enough to consider her own limitations, and, in so doing, she again analyzed the girthy mass that was Wesley's cock.

Long, veiny, and undeniably thick, the damn thing had only barely fit inside her mouth, and her mouth, at the very least, could move to accommodate him. Her tail-hole was of an entirely different nature. For one, it couldn't move; it could only stretch, and it wasn't ever actually meant to take anything inside as much as it was used to push things out. Two, it didn't provide any means of self-lubrication, and, judging by the size of the hog Wesley was sporting, she honestly wondered if he even had enough lube for such an endeavor.

Third and foremost in her mind was imagining just how uncomfortable it would be. Granted, his tongue hadn't been painful; but, there again, it had been lubricated, small, and flexible. Wesley's cock was none of those things. It was literally around seven inches of rigid, bone-like spire, built like a castle tower and every bit as round. It wasn't going to be very pliable, or compressible, and, it was undoubtedly going to leave her sore, gaping, and ruined.

The final question left for her to consider was a multi-faceted one. She wondered just how much pleasure, if any, she could derive from it, and how much pleasure he would derive from it if she went along with it. Beyond that, she wondered how long he would have to be inside of her before he peaked. Provided that he did have enough lubricant, and that said lubricant did numb her anus, and, provided that he could get her loose enough to take it, she still rather doubted that she could tolerate it for too terribly long.

After all, his comparatively small, wet tongue had given her the urge to use the bathroom; she couldn't imagine what effect his cock would have on that sensation!

Nevertheless, Molleen again turned to the pleading look in Wesley's eyes to aid her in her ultimate decision. He just looked too pathetic to turn down without her ever even trying. Besides, she could always tell him no, and she knew with absolute certainty that he would comply.

At length, Molleen sighed and timidly shrugged her shoulders.

“I-I guess we could try," she said, and Wesley immediately brightened. “But!" she called for his attention, “You have to do everything you can to keep me comfortable; pet my pussy, call me a good girl, whatever it takes. And, if at any moment I say no, you have to stop, okay? I promise, I'll keep going just as long as I can handle it; but, no means I'm actually at my limit. No trying to work harder, no pushing me, no more lubricant, or atta-girls. No means no, okay?"

Wesley's head nearly blurred as he nodded. “Yes! Yes, absolutely!" he gladly acquiesced to her demands. “I swear to you, I'll stop right away! I'm really not trying to hurt you; it's just…you know…a kink of mine: gets me there in seconds, I swear," he chuckled awkwardly.

“As long as we're clear, then," Molleen reaffirmed before shakily picking her hind legs up and spreading them. She took them in her forepaws and held them apart before looking up into Wesley's face again. “Don't skimp on the lube, Doc; wouldn't want to have to explain to anybody why your dog's ass is stretched and bleeding!"

Wesley laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah," he conceded. “You have a point there! I don't think I could easily play that one down at the vet's office if anything happened. But, like I said before, I'll be very careful when the time comes."

Molleen looked at him curiously. “When the time comes?" she asked. “Are we not about to try it now?"

“Na," he shook his head. “Not just yet, anyway. There's something else I'd like to try on before we get too adventurous here."

“Oh really," she teased. “And just what might that be?"

Wesley smiled haughtily at her as he slowly leaned over her, dropping his hands to either side of her lithesome body, and lowered himself down almost on top of her.

“I've never been inside puppy pussy before," he said. “But, I think I'd like to be."

Molleen flushed; although, she didn't look away. “No one's stopping you, stud," she countered hotly as she spread her legs a little wider for him.

Stealing a swift, smoldering glance down between their bodies to look at her drooling, quivering cunt, Wesley returned his gaze to Molleen's eyes, his own filled by animalistic lust and desire.

“I sure hope you're ready for this," he growled out.

“You have no idea," she panted, and, no longer feeling quite as submissive as she had been, she locked her hindlegs around his lower back and hips, forcing her sex against his spire. “I've been waiting years for this!"

“Wh-what a pity," stammered Wesley, the sudden contact and heat of her vulva against him momentarily getting the better of him. “I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time then!" Salvaging some degree of decorum, he ground his hips heavily against her, taking a long, almost agonizingly slow lap across the length of her sopping, wet cunny, his cock sandwiched in between her supple lips without actually entering her.

Reflexively, Molleen gasped and ground herself back into Wesley in turn, sure to keep her throbbing clit against him as she did so.

“Mhmm," she moaned as they continued to lewdly grind against each other. “We sure will." She then roughly grabbed him by the back of his head and forced his ear closer to her muzzle where she laved her tongue across it, and whispered seductively to him, “Now, are you actually going to breed me like a bitch in heat; or, are we just going to lie here and try to start a fire that's already burning?"

Wesley shuddered against her, a sign of weakness that didn't go unnoticed by her in the least. Had she perhaps found a vulnerability in her largely dominant partner, she wondered? If so, it wouldn't do to simply let such a thing go by the wayside, especially not since he'd had—and would have—the opportunity to exploit her own fallacies! Besides, turnabout was fair play; he'd already made her a shivering mess more than once, and a little taste of the same medicine hardly seemed inappropriate!

Smiling impishly, Molleen ground her sex against her paramour's cock and licked his ear again, the results of which were similar, if not more profound considering that he actually moaned this time. Taking full advantage of her little discovery, she gladly did it again, and again, becoming bolder with every subsequent act by adding little nibbles around his ear and throat.

“O-oh baby," she heard him groan, causing her tail to wag between his thighs. “Y-you'd better be careful."

She didn't stop; although, she did pause long enough to ask, “Mmm; and, why's that?" before continuing her assault.

“B-because it's a dangerous game you're playing, girl," Wesley replied. “And, I think you're about to bite off more than you can chew."

Molleen did halt at that; but, only so that she could withdraw to face him properly. “You poor thing," she said, garnering a befuddled look from the man as she brought her right paw up to bear and gingerly traced the outline of his rugged jaw with her fingertips. “You forget that I've already had it inside my mouth and spit it back out again. Your threats mean nothing to me now."

Floored did not adequately describe just how Wesley actually felt after having heard that. It came so far out of left field that he honestly wondered if he'd just been imagining things. However, one look into the deep, lustful, and confident eyes that stared back at him was all it took to make a believer out of him. It seemed that Molleen wasn't quite as submissive as he'd first anticipated her to be; and, while that notion in and of itself was positively thrilling to realize, the moment at hand was supposed to be his. She'd already had her fun; more than once, and even one time without his knowledge.

To that regard, her confidence and newfound command over the situation was completely unacceptable, an oversight that demanded rectification.

“Is that a fact?" Wesley asked darkly, only to be met halfway by the spunky canine's smirking lips.

“Yes," she replied surely. “That's a fact."

“Then just know that you've brought this upon yourself."

Before Molleen could even register what was happening, in a flash, Wesley had snatched up her arms, restrained them above her head, and held them fast to the mattress with one hand firmly clasped around her wrists. She struggled in vain momentarily if only out of instinct; however, the moment she realized that she was well and truly bound, her thrashing ceased, and she looked up into her captor's face with a renewed sense of respect and fear.

“The game's over, pup," he said menacingly as he grasped his length with his free hand, and Molleen's eyes widened as he aligned the tip of his bulbous cock with her opening. “Ready or not, here I come."

He thrust forward, and her tight, damp walls gave way almost immediately. Several inches of his thick spire suddenly ploughed roughly into her depths, stretching her well beyond what she had ever accomplished with her own, meager paws, or even the various objects that she'd found lying around the house. It reached deeper, too, far more so than she ever imagined it could as it sunk seemingly endlessly inside of her, filling her to such degree that it felt like she might tear open at any moment.

Finding it hard to breathe, Molleen tried breathlessly to tell Wesley to slow down. It was far too much for her to manage all at once; the pressure it applied against her walls was actually painful to experience! Fearing that any sudden movement might only serve to exacerbate her discomfort, she felt moderately paralyzed as he penetrated her. It wasn't until the tip of his phallus abruptly crashed into her cervix that the beleaguered canine was finally able to cough out a strangled yelp, and her paramour abruptly halted and afforded her all due concern.

“Sh-shit; Molleen! Are you okay?" he asked, immediately releasing her arms and staying still as the grave as he partially rested inside of her. “I-I'm so sorry! I thought you were actually ready for it!"

Molleen remained as still as she could as well; she didn't dare move as her paws grasped at the bedsheets. Her legs were tensed around Wesley's back, her claws exposed. They dug into the man's skin, drawing deep, red marks that threatened to bleed; but, he didn't seem to notice. His sole focus seemed to be on her and her alone, and for that, she was grateful. At the very least, it proved to her that he was as good as his word, and that he did, in fact, care for her wellbeing and own sense of fulfillment during their little dalliance. Even though he'd mindlessly hurt her, it was more than apparent that it'd been little more than an unfortunate accident, and that the spectrum of control between them was still very much in her favor.

Though wincing and hissing through her teeth, Molleen made a grandiose effort of composing herself, and adopted a shoddy smile that in no way concealed her actual discomfort. She bit back on the pain as much as she could; however, it felt like she'd just been kicked by a mule from inside her pussy! It even made her stomach hurt, and the pain radiated all the way up into her chest and throat, making everything inside of her feel strangled and knotted!

“A-ah; f-fine," she panted through gritted teeth. “J-just—ah!—just give me a second, here—oh!" She grimaced and gripped the bedsheets tighter, her claws tearing into them and sundering the feeble, woven fibers apart.

“Oh, baby," Wesley consoled as he leaned down to nuzzle his cheek against her own. He hadn't bought into anything that she'd said; her expression spoke volumes about all that he'd needed to know. She was evidently suffering, and the fault resided solely with him. He felt awful about it, and internally, he cursed himself for not being more careful with her! She was half his size, for goodness sake! All jeers and teasing aside, he should have been infinitely more respectful of that fact before he'd just gone and speared himself into her! He'd merely given into lust and temptation; and, because of it, he'd betrayed his lover, and the promise that he'd made to her.

Low did not even begin to describe him; monstrous was perhaps a better fit. “I'm so sorry, Molleen," he again apologized to her. “I really didn't mean to hurt you. I just got carried away and lost my head, there" he sighed. “That really isn't any excuse to justify what I've done. We can stop now if you want; I think I have some things tucked away inside the truck that'll take the edge off it. Anything else you might need, I bet I can get it from the hospital. Just, let me know, alright? I'll take care of you, I promise. At least, better care of you than what I've forced on you so far…"

Wesley laid his head down beside her; he didn't want look at her. Cowardice encouraged him to turn a blind eye to the suffering that he'd caused. He only hoped that, once all things were said and done, she'd manage to forgive him, and that at the very least, they could still be friends afterwards.

“W-wes," he heard her say to him, and, though he was entirely ashamed of how he cringed, he was more than prepared to hear her rebuke. “J-just, shut-up for a second, would you?"

Befuddled, he nonetheless did as she asked, and kept completely silent until Molleen managed to collect herself. She breathed deeply for several moments, sighing past her pursed lips as the pain began to recede and her muscles unwound. She unclasped her legs and relinquished the death grip she held around his lower back, and disentangled her fingers from the tattered remnants of the bedsheets.

In between her thighs, Wesley remained firmly embedded, if not somewhat more flaccid than he had been prior. Her pussy still ached; however, a tinge of something more pleasurable bubbled up from beneath the surface of that pain. Curious of the sensation, she experimentally flexed her walls, and the results of which elicited an agreeable sigh from them both.

“A-ah," she sighed. “Th-that's not so bad, now is it?"

Hesitantly, Wesley shook his head, and then groaned as he felt her do it again.

“I didn't hear you, stud," she teased. “You aren't really going to quit because of one silly mistake, are you? Not when things are turning around, I hope?"

He merely shrugged, melancholy. “I hurt you," he said flatly.

“Maybe a little," she conceded, lifting her right paw up to place it gently upon his head where she then ran her fingertips through his greying hair and tried to assuage him of his guilt. “But, I think we should just chock that up to a bit of a learning curve and see where the rest of the morning might take us. Now that you aren't trying to skewer me alive, it actually feels kind of nice to have you inside of me! I think I can even feel your heart beat!" She jeered; but, her mirth was apparently lost upon Wesley as he still hid from her.

“…I really am sorry," he said again.

Molleen frowned and sighed. “Wes, I know you are; and, I know you didn't mean to. Really, I'm okay; I'm not just putting on a brave face for you, either. I completely, one-hundred-percent, forgive you, and I really don't want to end it like this. So, please, quit apologizing, and just make it up to me, okay? Believe it or not, I'm still really, really, hot for you. You just need to be gentle and take it easy on me, alright? I bet it'll work out well for both of us that way!"

Surprised, although still wallowing within his shame, Wesley managed to lift his head to face Molleen properly.

“B-but…Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly. “Because I really, really, don't want to hurt you anymore. Seriously, if this is too much, we can stop, and I'll…"

“Wes!" she sharply interjected. “Enough, okay? Does this really feel like I want to stop?" She asked sardonically as she tightened her walls around him again, causing the man to gasp and nearly collapse on top of her."

“N-n-no," he admitted breathlessly, his resolve quickly failing him. “I-I j-just…"

“Wes," she menaced. “I'm serious; if you don't take me for a ride in the next five seconds, you're going to find yourself trapped inside a train with no brakes, and it isn't going to stop until I decide it does, okay? I'll take everything I possibly can out of you and leave you a shivering, pleading wreck; and, I won't have any sympathy for you whatsoever. Are we just crystal clear now?"

Molleen lifted her head and roughly jammed her muzzle in Wesley's face, growling ominously, and eliciting a smattering of jerky nods from her thoroughly chastised partner.

“Yup," he replied, his voice cracking. “Super clear now! Sorry; I was just making absolutely sure."

“And you're sure now, right?"

Anxiety drove a bead of sweat to drip down Wesley's forehead as he crisply replied, “Without a doubt; yeah. Absolutely sure, puppy!"

“Good," she smiled salaciously. “Then you should have no more hang-ups about getting down to business! Oh, and, by the way," she said as she slipped her muzzle to his ear and nipped at his lobe. “I think I'd like to be called 'mistress' from now on."

Wesley shuddered harshly, his resolve suddenly shattered as Molleen effectively turned the tables on him again. Her confidence was undeniable; and, while it markedly spurned his sense of masculinity, he wasn't so proud to admit that he appreciated a woman that could take charge. Honestly, he found the notion quite thrilling, effectively answering to his dog and being made to serve her for a change.

To that regard, he assumed that perhaps there was more truth in her words than he'd first realized; it might work out very well for the both of them after all!

“Alright," he replied hotly to her. “Mistress it is, then. What does mistress want from her most willing servant?"

Molleen's smile grew toothy. “You know what Mistress wants, Wes."

“Gentle, but nonetheless, mind-blowing sex?" he hazarded, and she flushed deeply.

“More than anything, stud."

Wesley lowered himself down on top of her, certain to keep their noses in intimate proximity all the while.

“Then, who am I to deny my Mistress's command?"

Wesley then rocked his hips back, dragging his length from her smoldering, slick depths until just the tip of his spire remained inside.

“Is Mistress ready?" he asked sensually, while Molleen moaned in passion.

“O-oh yes! L-love your mistress! Make her feel your every desire from the inside out!"

“As you wish, sweet lady." Gingerly, Wesley thrust himself forward, mindful this time of her every contraction, and of every emotion that ran across her face. He felt her rapture through his cock, saw the pleasure in her eyes as he delved deeper into her inviting depths, and halted just shy of her cervix before withdrawing and spearing her again. Sheer bliss consumed him, evidently as much as it had her as she panted and moaned, lifted her paws to take him around his shoulders, and pulled him closer to her body. The intimacy felt enticing and warm as her fur tickled his bare flesh, and he thrust into her again and again, gladly losing himself within her nubile gender.

“A—ah!—a bit faster, please!" Molleen begged of him lustfully, and Wesley eagerly complied. Her drooling cunt was like heated felt as it suckled upon his cock, weeping its essence past his heady length to splash lewdly against his pendulous orbs. Thick ribbons of her viscous fem-cum expanded and contracted between their coupling as he fucked her more ardently, ever mindful of her limitations, but, content to push her boundaries nevertheless.

“H-ah!" Her breath washed over his face. “Th-that's it! K-keep going; just like that! Oh; Wes!" Almost imperceptibly, Molleen began to undulate her hips, forcing her hungry pussy to consume more of her lover's cock which was all but drowning in her nectar. Her timing was terribly asynchronous, an unavoidable consequence of her inexperience that hampered Wesley's ability to thrust into her without causing her any undo harm. That wasn't to say that her instinctual desires in any way diminished the carnal delights that both of them were experiencing in spades, however; and, upon a particularly errant twist of her hips, his robust spire struck a most vulnerable patch of flesh inside of her, resulting in a spasm that sent lustful pleasure cascading down their spines.

“Ah!" Molleen cried out.

“Mmm, fuck!" Exclaimed Wesley as their hips crashed together, his sense of rhythm, decorum, and concern completely abandoned.

“Ouch! Wes; easy there, big guy!"

Hearing her protest, Wesley struggled to restrain himself, but only managed to withdraw as far as was necessary to avoid crushing his lover's cervix as he continued to ravage her. The lust demanded that he claimed her; it whispered ominously into his ear and corrupted his thoughts. The tightness he felt roiling inside his orbs begged to be released, and it would not be ignored, not while being so close!

“Ah—Mmm!—Wes!" Panted Molleen as her lover passionately assaulted her, his cock grinding roughly against that special spot inside of her. “I-I'm—Oh!—Wes, I'm going t-to!..."

Her voice cracked and broke into a feverish howl as she suddenly came. Her velvety, slick walls clamped down and heaved unmercifully upon Wesley's cock, swallowing it whole and drawing from its bulbous tip an abrupt spattering of thick, viscous cum as he breathlessly orgasmed unexpectedly. He filled her passage in seconds, flooded her vault with such vast quantities semen that thick globs of his essence oozed past their coupling and dripped lewdly down her taint, covering her anus and tail-base.

Languidly, he continued to pump in and out of the canine's messy cunt for several moments until the surmounting pleasure finally reached its peak, and he toppled over the other side of the summit in a blissful afterglow. He collapsed on top of her, mindful enough of just how his weight settled upon her so that she was still comfortable lying beneath him.

The couple heaved for breath; sweat and various other fluids mingled between them. The air felt hot as they peered into each other's eyes, their faces flushed from the culmination of their efforts, as well as mutual desire. Wesley smiled down at Molleen, a look that was mirrored upon her face before it dissolved into a chaste kiss.

“Wow," Molleen said as their lips parted. “Th-that…That was…Well, I don't think I have the words to describe whatever the hell that was!"

Wesley chuckled at her. “Yeah; I know what you mean. I haven't felt something like that in my entire life."

Molleen beamed up at him. “Really?" she asked. “Also, is orgasmagoric or lovergasm a word?"

Wesley laughed, “Hehe! For one, yeah really! I admit that I've had few tristes here and there; but, whatever we just shared? There was a lot more to it than just the mind-blowing sex! And two, no, I don't think either one of them is a word; but, they damn sure need to be!"

Molleen giggled back at him. “Definitely; on both accounts! I never imagined anything could feel as good as that! Maybe it's because I love you so much; what about you?"

“Oh, without a doubt, puppy," Wesley nodded. “I feel the same way. If I died right now, the only thing I'd regret is not doing this sooner."

“You've got that right!" agreed Molleen. “But, I think maybe you should hold on just a little bit longer. After all, if you died right now, you'd miss out on your chance at a little back-door kind of fun!"

Wesley's jaw dropped. “B-back-door fun?" he asked, utterly shocked that she'd even brought it up, especially after their little love-making mishaps. “Seriously? You're still willing to try that?"

Molleen shrugged. “Well, yeah," she replied surely. “I said we could try it earlier, right?"

“Yeah; but…"

“But nothing!" she interjected, much to his surprise. “I'm a dog of my word; man's best friend and all that! Besides, you've rocked my world all morning long; it's the least I can do for you to give you something that you really want!"

Floored, Wesley struggled to reply, “B-but…I mean…I don't want to force you into something you don't actually want to do, or anything…"

“Wes," she sighed. “Look, I really care about you, and, if a little anal play really gets your rocks off, I'm not going to deny you that. You've already done so much for me; and, I'm not just talking about the sex, either. You've taken care of me my whole life, provided me everything that I've ever wanted or needed. To me, this is just a small way to say thank you for all of that! And, if you're still a bit hung up on the issue, if it helps, I am admittedly a bit curious about it myself. I mean, what if it turns out that I'm actually into that kind of thing, you know? Just think about how awesome that would be for our budding sex-life! But, we'll never know unless we try, right?"

Wesley dumbly nodded in reply.

“Good boy!" She praised. “I trust that you remember all of my rules from earlier, then?"

He nodded again.

“Good! Then go on and fetch all the things that you'll need to loosen me up, and let's have some fun!"

In all his years, even as a younger man in his prime, Wesley doubted that he'd ever moved so quickly before. In a flash, he'd all but flown from the bed and sprinted to the bathroom, cornering so sharply that he was forced to use the walls to change direction. He rushed over to the medicine cabinet and threw it open, rummaged through various bottles until he found what he was looking for shoved off in the back, and quickly snatched them up.

With two bottles of lubricant in hand, he sprinted back into the bedroom, nearly slipping upon the floor as he slid to a stop and sat down on the edge of the bed, breathless.

“Well, that was fast," Molleen said as she sat up and peered over the man's shoulder. “What are those?"

Windless, Wesley lifted the bottles so that she could see them more clearly. “These," he heaved, “are what we're going to need to make this happen." He breathed as he proffered her the first bottle of viscous, clear liquid which she then took from him and scrutinized. “That one there is a water-based lubricant with a two-percent lidocaine solution in it. It'll—ah—numb the area, I guess, and make you more relaxed. The other one I have here is just a silicone-based lubricant to make things…slide into you easier."

“I see," she replied, handing him back the first bottle. “Okay then, cool; where do you want me?"

Still unaccustomed to her casual acceptance to the idea of having her anus stretched out, Wesley flushed in embarrassment as he shakily pointed to the edge of the bed.

“R-right on the edge, please" he stammered. “A-and, if you wouldn't mind, could you t-tuck your legs into your chest for me, a-and spread your—ah—cheeks with your hands?"

Giggling at his discomfort, Molleen gladly did as she'd been instructed to do. She crawled over to the edge of the bed, lied down flat upon her back, pulled her legs into her chest, and happily spread herself for Wesley's viewing pleasure.

“Like this, stud?" she asked lustfully.

“Yup," Wesley blushed brighter and nodded. “Yeah, just like that; that's real good there."

She giggled again. “Then, whenever you're ready to see this puppy's insides, Wes, you just go right ahead."

Swallowing thickly, Wesley slid down to the floor and crawled over to where Molleen's exposed rear lied waiting for him. The first thing he noticed was just how pert and supple her ass looked in her paws. Her globes were far shapelier than he had given them credit for, a fact that was amplified by how well her flesh molded in between her fingers. It was plump enough to give her exquisite curves without being unreasonably rotund or pliable. The second thing he noticed was how much of a mess he'd already made of her as his essence positively painted everything around her pussy, taint, and anus with a milky, glistening shine, the sight of which stirred his loins to a raging, full mast again.

The third, and likely most critical thing he gleaned was her tight, pink, little pucker itself. Alike her pussy, it was markedly different than a woman's anatomy, appearing more akin to a triangle with rounded sides married together in the center by a 'Y' shape that sloped tightly into her body. It appeared small, too, far more so than her pussy had, and he briefly wondered if anything he did to it would actually allow him to penetrate her.

Then again, Molleen had already made the statement herself: they'd never know if he didn't try. And, what more convincing did he really need than that?

Wesley swallowed again as he looked up at Molleen through her splayed legs. “Ready?" he asked pensively, to which she merely nodded.

“I think I've already made that pretty clear, stud," she replied.

“Alright, then." He uncapped the first bottle of lubricant and spread a generous dollop of the stuff across his fingers. He then tilted the bottle over her anus and let some of it ooze over her pucker and tail base before setting it to the side. “So, I'm just going to rub this stuff around your hole a bit to numb the outside and get it a little warmer before I actually stick my finger inside of you. We'll start with just the one and work our way up from there. Sound good?"

She nodded again. “Sure; works for me."

“Cool; here we go." Reaching forward, Wesley gently touched her anus and began to rub it in slow, languid circles, smearing the lubricant over her. She shivered slightly at the contact, and instinctively tried to cover herself with her tail; however, she seemed to fight the urge away, and it soon became flaccid again. Appreciating her dedication, Wesley casually traced his finger along the outline of her closure, following its distinctive shape from one corner of her anus, down to the bottom, and then over to the other side of before repeating himself. Though he didn't penetrate her yet, he applied a measured amount of pressure nevertheless.

He continued this for several minutes, always gauging her reaction for even the slightest sign of displeasure. Although she didn't seem to be entirely relaxed, her features appeared largely content, if not somewhat apathetic, as if she wasn't overtly concerned with how things were playing out. When she eventually caught him staring at her, she merely smiled at him, a look that he mirrored as she idly began to kick her feet.

Taking her apparently growing ennui as a sign to move forward, Wesley pressed the tip of his index finger against the epicenter of her anus until her taut sphincter gradually began to give way.

“Little bit of pressure," he said to her, to which she simply nodded in acquiescence, and his finger slowly slid inside of her. Rhythmically, her tight, rectal muscles spasmed around his digit, attempting in vain to stave off its intrusion until it was fully seated inside of her. Much to her credit, however, Molleen's demeanor hardly changed at all. By and large, she seemed remarkably unfazed by being penetrated, and continued to kick her feet as if nothing unordinary had happened. Looking back to her face if only to be sure that she was alright, Wesley found her persistent smile remarkably reassuring, and incredibly sexy.

“How's that feel?" He asked her curiously.

“Honestly?" She shrugged. “It tingles a bit; but, otherwise, I really don't feel much of anything. Maybe just a hint of pressure; but, that's about it."

Wesley nodded. “Yeah; that's the lidocaine. The tingling will probably go away in the next few minutes, if you're already that numb," he said as he curled his finger inside of her. “Can you feel that?"

She shrugged again. “Vaguely; I mean, I can feel it moving; but, it's like, blunted somehow, if that makes any sense."

“It does; and, that's a good thing," he affirmed with another nod. “You don't want to feel too much, or otherwise, you'd be uncomfortable. But, at the same time, you don't want to be so numb that you can't feel anything at all. For one, you won't get any pleasure from it; and, for another, it might leave your shutter speed later, shall we say, slower than desirable, if you catch my drift."

She cringed and shuttered. “Eww. Yeah, let's avoid that."

He chuckled at her. “I whole heartedly agree; and, furthermore, assure you that I won't let that happen. It'd take more lidocaine than I've used so far to reach that point, and, since you're already pretty numb, there's no reason to use it. That's where the other bottle of lube comes into play."

“Ah, that makes sense," she replied. “So, what now?"

“Now?" he asked rhetorically as he began to rotate his single digit inside of her from side to side, coating her bowels in the numbing lubricant more thoroughly. “I'm going to start loosening you up a bit; get your muscles more relaxed. Really, it feels like your wide enough inside to take me; it's just getting past your sphincter that's going to be challenging. It needs to be pliable enough to accommodate at least three fingers easily before I try anything else, and it's pretty tight right now."

“I see," Molleen replied pensively. “Is there anything I can do to help?"

Wesley shook his head and began to slowly pump his finger in and out of her. “Na; just stay relaxed and try not to tense up. The rest will just take time."

“Okay, then," she replied, lying her head back and looking towards the ceiling. “You do whatever you need to do. If you think of something, just let me know."

“I will."

Wesley turned his attention back to her anus and watched with barely concealed lust and fascination as his finger appeared and disappeared inside of her. He had done something like this before with other women; but, never with anyone that he cared about as deeply as he did Molleen. Somehow, their emotional connection made it all the more tantalizing as he felt her heated walls contract around his finger, and saw the way that her pucker dipped into her body whenever he pushed in, and pouted whenever he pulled out.

He worked her more fervently after a time, and, utterly enthralled with his efforts, he blindly reached for the other bottle of lubricant. Upon finding it, he uncapped it with his free hand and poured a generous amount of its contents over his occupied hand and fingers. He pumped her anus a few more times with that single digit to disseminate the lubricant around inside of her, and gradually began to see her sphincter fail to close around it.

Pulling back so that only the tip of his initial finger remained inside of her slightly gaping ass, Wesley aligned his second digit and eagerly pressed forward. He watched as they easily slid inside of her with a wet squelch, and, upon garnering little reaction from his compliant canine other than a heated blush, he returned his efforts to their prior pace.

“Still doing alright?" He asked her, his attention still devoted to her anus.

“Yup," she replied. “A little fuller feeling; but, otherwise, pretty much the same."

“Good; that's two in there; you're doing good, puppy."

“Thanks," she flushed hotter. “I guess you are too."

Wesley chuckled at that as he continued to work her hole looser.

“Hey, Wes?" asked Molleen abruptly.

“Yeah?"

“…Do…Do you mind if I…Ah," she stammered and paused, embarrassed.

Stopping, with his fingers still embedded firmly inside of her, Wesley looked up at her face, only to see that she wasn't looking at him.

“If you what?" he pressed. “Come on; now isn't the time to feel shy. I have my fingers inside your ass, after all; I'm pretty sure that entitles you to shamelessly ask anything."

She giggled, albeit slightly. “Y-yeah, I suppose you have a point there," she conceded. “So, since that's the case, I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind if I—ah—played with myself a bit? I'm starting to feel a little heated, and my pussy could use the attention."

Though she still continued to look at the ceiling, Wesley nevertheless quirked his brow, and suddenly laughed, amused. “Hehe! Molleen, you don't have to ask something like that! You can do whatever you want! Hell, from my angle, I think it'd be pretty hot; so, by all means, please, go right ahead; I'm practically begging you to!"

That drew a heartier, more genial laugh out of the canine. “W-well, if that's the case, then who am I to disappoint you!" Reaching down the length of her body with her right paw, Molleen settled her fingers along the swollen lips of her labia and spread them wide to expose her pink insides for Wesley's viewing pleasure. “If you like what you see, tap twice."

Beaming at her antics, Wesley curled his fingers and tapped twice against the upper wall of her rectum.

“Very good then!" she jested. “My good sir, if you'd please continue."

“With gusto, madam!" he fired back and returned to his lascivious task. All the while, Molleen began to tend to herself, stroking her pussy like a delicate flower for several moments before she suddenly crushed it beneath her paw and mushed her lips roughly against her body. Dipping her fingers inside her cunny, the horny Dalmatian withdrew an ample gob of the thick, viscous ooze that Wesley had previously pumped inside of her, and used it as a lubricant to rub her throbbing clit.

“Mmm; oh, that's much better!" Molleen sighed in relief. “Your cum feels so good on my little puppy button! Who knew something so sticky could be so slick too!"

Drinking in her lewd and brazen display of lust like a man dying of thirst, Wesley's lust addled mind went into overdrive. “Damn, baby; that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen!" he exclaimed, thrusting his fingers harder and faster into her body. As she stimulated her pussy, her increasingly loose anus almost seemed to welcome his intrusion, proffering little to no further resistance whatsoever as it parted sloppily around his digits.

Fueled by a burning desire that threatened to consume him entirely as he watched her, Wesley abruptly added his ring finger into the mix, sliding it into the groaning canine's ass without hesitation or slowing down. Her pouting pucker spasmed only briefly against its sudden inclusion; but, otherwise, accommodated it with relative ease.

“O-oh!" she gasped as he furiously worked her ass. “I can feel that!"

“And?" Wesley asked, breathing heavily.

“I-it's n-not so bad, actually!" she shuttered.

“Good; I've got three fingers inside of you." He confessed. “You're such a good girl for letting me ruin your little asshole like this."

She flushed hotter. “Th-thanks! A-anything for you, Wes!"

“Molleen," Wesley muttered, quivering violently as his hormones surged through him like a hurricane. Looking at her anus, he abruptly withdrew his fingers with a lewd, wet pop and stared at her gaping opening like a man gone mad. With her insides on full display, the man grabbed his aching cock and stroked himself, bathing his spire in the rest of the lubricant before he abruptly stood from his crouched position and aligned himself with her ass.

“Baby, I'm sorry; but, I really need to fuck you now." He pleaded, looming above her. “I'm actually hurting a bit, here."

Molleen stopped rubbing herself for a moment, and she canted her head to look at her paramour properly with an encouraging smile.

“Go ahead, stud," she said. “You've more than earned your playtime! Just, take it slow at first; that's all I ask."

“Yeah," he nodded, shaking. “Of course. Thank you."

Looking down between them, Wesley then guided his cock until the tip pressed against her gaping pucker, and slowly pressed himself inside. As the head of it disappeared into her body, he was immediately assaulted by the tightest, most salacious and taboo heat that he'd ever experienced before. It made his entire body tremble; his knees quaked and threatened to buckle, and it was all that he could do to remain upright as he carefully shoved a few more inches of himself inside of her.

“O-oh God," he groaned as he fought to maintain his composure.

Though having her ass spread to its limits, Molleen nevertheless felt more comfortable with the sensation than she otherwise would have imagined. She felt a certain fullness deep inside her ass, and a powerful sense of pressure reminiscent of needing to use the bathroom. Yet, beyond that, however, there was an admittedly profound sense of pleasure that was derived, perhaps not from being penetrated in and of itself, but rather the significant effect that it had on her partner, who was all but a breathless, drooling mess, and he hadn't even started to fuck her properly yet!

Smiling wickedly at him, Molleen's paw returned to her pussy as she furiously rubbed her clit again.

“Does that feel good, stud?"

“Mmm-hmm," Wesley dumbly nodded back at her and shivered again as he shakily humped into her.

“Aww, is big, bad, Wes about to cum in his puppy's ass already?" she goaded.

“M-m-Molleen; p-please!" he begged pathetically, wanting nothing more than to fuck her senseless; but, feared his stamina wouldn't hold out much longer.

“Shh; it's alright, stud. You just let it all out whenever you're ready." Impulsively, the apparently kinky canine flexed her anal walls and squeezed Wesley's cock tight, causing the man to moan vociferously.

“O-oh; baby!" he cried, his hands shooting out to either side of Molleen's body to stabilize himself, and he leaned upon them heavily. “I-I'm…I'm not going to last!"

“I know," she giggled.

“C-can I...C-cum inside of you?" he asked, pumping his hips a few times spasmodically while he tried in vain to stave off his rapidly impending orgasm.

“Oh, you're such a gentleman, Wes," Molleen chided. “But, of course you can; don't hold anything back!"

As her words rang against his ears, Wesley promptly began to thrust into the Dalmatian's ass vigorously. A cacophony of lewd, wet slaps and pops echoed salaciously from their coupling, creating a lustful beat that was without any semblance of tempo or cadence. It was nothing more than an uncoordinated rush to the finish-line for the man as he pumped his canine lover for all that he was worth! Panting, he glanced down to watch as his cock rapidly disappeared and reappeared from her anus, battering her loose hole which dipped into her body with every thrust before being tugged out again with every withdrawal.

Nearing her own peak as she rubbed herself, Molleen again clenched down on Wesley's cock as he fucked her, and the extra stimulation proved to be too much for the man as he buckled on top of her, and hilted himself deep within her rectum.

“A-ah!" Wesley exclaimed as he rocked his hips in short, awkward thrusts before he came, hard. Seemingly, his orgasm started in his stomach, the muscles therein contracting sharply as if struck before traveling down the length of his lower back and into his pelvis, which abruptly seized as the first jet of his thick, creamy cum burst from his cock and splattered inside Molleen's bowels. He jerked and humped into her again, pumping more of his essence into her rectum which soon overflowed, and spilled his ejaculated beyond her sphincter to ooze lewdly down her taint and pool at her tail-base.

Feeling herself utterly filled to the brim, and, seeing the sheer, unadulterated pleasure upon Wesley's face, Molleen's last orgasm struck her fiercely. Her entire body trembled as her pussy undulated, and she howled a canine howl as she squirted her juices all over Wesley's lower stomach, hips, and genitals. Rivulets of her nectar flowed from her vaginal canal and down his skin to amass with the fluid already gathered at the base of her tail, and pooling beside it on the bedsheets.

Panting for breath, the couple remained connected for a time afterwards, savoring the powerful afterglow that they found themselves within. They looked at each other, neither saying a word, nor needing to in order to convey the depths of their feelings; instead, they merely shared a smile. In spite of how torrid, and admittedly raunchy, their lovemaking had been, intrinsically, it had still been lovemaking by its very nature, and it did not at all detract from the passion and emotion that they felt for one another in droves as much as it had solidified their budding, new relationship.

That was not, however, to allude to the assumption that there weren't any consequences to be had whatsoever. Glancing down to glean the aftermath of their lovemaking, Wesley smirked as he saw the utter devastation that they had wrought upon the bed itself.

“I don't think that's going to wash out," Wesley said blatantly. “I mean, we can launder the sheets; but, can you actually wash a mattress?"

Molleen laughed breathlessly. “Hehe! Is it that bad?" she asked.

“Kind of looks like a bunch of melted icing down there, so yeah," he nodded. “It's bad."

“Oh well," she replied, still giggling. “I'd say that even if it is possible, we should just leave the stains there! I mean, it's not like this is going to be the last time our poor bed has to take one for the team, after all!"

“Good point," he conceded. “I guess we can always just replace the damn thing whenever it gets too smelly."

“Na," Molleen shook her head. “I like the stink; it makes me horny."

Wesley chuckled at that. “Oh you raunchy, naughty little puppy!"

“Only for you, stud!" she beamed.

“You might actually be the death of me, girl."

“Well, then, at least you'll die happy," she winked.

“I can't argue with that; I mean, that was just…" Wesley paused and made an explosive sound with his mouth as he gesticulated with his hands around his head. “Mind-blowing! Do you know what I mean?"

Molleen nodded. “Oh yeah; and that doesn't really do it any justice, either! I mean, I feel like I just got beat to death with a pleasure stick and loved every minute of it! How about you?"

“Like my pleasure stick just got thrown down pleasure ravine and I hit every rock on the way down," he replied.

“That good, huh?"

“Better, honestly," he said. “Pup, I don't think there's words in any language to describe just how incredible that was!"

“Yeah, I know how you feel," she nodded surely.

“Yeah," he looked at her pensively as he considered their lovemaking. “And how do you feel, Molleen? Like, physically; everything alright; nothing hurts too bad I hope?"

The Dalmatian shook her head, “No," she said. “Surprisingly, I feel great; better than I thought I would, at least. I'll be honest, the thought of taking your cock up my ass had me pretty nervous at first. I mean, not to pander to your ego or anything, but, you're huge! And, after choking on that monster I thought there was no way it was going to fit! But, here and now, I'm glad that we tried it. I can't honestly say that it physically did much for me; but, the look on your face as you played with my ass and fucked me more than made up for it! Hell, that last orgasm was the strongest one I had because of it!"

“Good!" Wesley said before smiling sheepishly at her. “And, again, I'm sorry that I choked you."

Molleen waved off his apology. “And, again, we've already dealt with that."

“I know; but still, I shouldn't have done that."

“But still, you're forgiven," she mimicked, and Wesley's smile became more amicable as a result.

“Fantastic; I guess this makes us square, now?" he asked.

Molleen shrugged. “As long as square doesn't mean that all of our fun-time-fucky-sucky has to come to an end."

“Absolutely not!" he assured defensively.

“Then, yeah," she smiled at him as she lifted her head and tenderly kissed his lips. “I'd call us square."

Beaming at her, Wesley swiftly leaned down and reconnected their lips, peppering them with a smattering of chaste, warm kisses that drove her tail to wagging, and reminded the both of them that his cock was still firmly embedded inside her anus.

“Whoops," he flushed. “My bad; I somehow forgot that was in there! Here, let me just…" He rocked his hips back, and, as he did so, Molleen suddenly became acutely aware of everything inside of her ass, and how much of a stopcock—pun both implied and intended—his spire actually had been. Its abrupt withdrawal reminded her of just how profound the sensation of pressure had been during their little session, and without it, she knew that her battered defenses weren't going to be capable of arresting anything left inside of her that wanted out.

Panicking, Molleen flailed her arms and tried to get Wesley's attention.

“Wes, wait!" She cried, but, it was far too little too late. With a raucous, wet, and altogether vulgar squelch, the tip of Wesley's cock popped completely free from Molleen's anus, which then abruptly spilled behind it a veritable river of thick, sticky cum and spent lubricant that oozed down her taint and pooled around her tail. With her ass stretched, gaping, and utterly ruined, Molleen was rendered entirely helpless as more of the spunk that Wesley had pumped into her escaped, and her bowels instinctively contracted to expel as much of the aftermath as they could. Unable to resist a particularly powerful urge to push, the mortified canine brought her paws to her face and flushed crimson, hiding behind them as the sounds emanating from her ass assaulted her ears, and actually whimpered as she felt little bubbles of cum bursting against her open pucker.

Wesley's eyes were all but glued to the lewd display as he watched on in earnest, lustfully observing the consequences of his actions as they dripped and bubbled out of Molleen's undulating anus. It convulsed and spit out more of his semen with every passing moment, saturating her tail and the bedsheets beneath it in a viscous puddle of sin that grew to encompass her hips and lower back. An errant, yet powerful push even managed to project a thin stream of carnal fluid out of her, and landed salaciously on his thigh.

When it finally stopped and her bowels relaxed again unto an opened, drooling maw, Molleen refused to look at her paramour.

“Wes…" she muttered, utterly embarrassed and mortified. “I-I'm so sorry! Th-that was so gross! I-I don't know what to say!" She felt like crying, all but certain that she'd ruined any attraction that Wesley might have held for her.

Wesley, however, certainly didn't share in the sentiment. Half erect, the man glanced towards the hallway before returning his attention to his thoroughly ashamed partner.

“Uh…Molleen?" he broached carefully.

“Wes; it was an accident, I swear!" she abruptly exclaimed, still withdrawn. “Please; Please! Don't be mad at me!"

“What?" Looking down, Wesley took a moment to truly scrutinize how humiliated and defeated Molleen actually appeared to be. Like a victim, she seemed almost helpless as she lied there, hiding behind her paws, sniffling and quivering. It was a terrible sight, and sharply, he shook his head to force some semblance of sense back into his lecherous thoughts. “No; no, baby! That…That's not it. It wasn't gross, puppy, I promise!" Leaning down, he carefully settled his weight on top of her and embraced her warmly.

“B-But; Wes," she stammered out from beneath his chest. “Come on; you can't be serious?! That was really, really, gross! I-I mean I just…just…"

Wesley chuckled slightly. “Just pushed, like, a pint of cum out of your ass?" he teased.

She suddenly struck him roughly with her paws. “Don't just say things like that; it's not funny!"

“Okay, okay," he winced, feeling her claws rake against his bare flesh. “I'm sorry; I was just teasing you, that's all."

“Well, don't," she huffed. “I'm embarrassed enough about it as it is!"

“Shouldn't be," he assuaged.

Molleen paused for a moment. “Wh-what? Why not? I practically just shi…"

“It's not like that," he quickly interjected.

“Oh really? Then what is it like, huh?!"

Wesley smiled wryly, although she couldn't see it.

“Hot as fuck," he replied plainly.

Stunned, Molleen tried and failed several times to retort; however, her jaw merely moved soundlessly. Unfolding her paws, she tucked them in between their bodies and tilted her head back to glean Wesley's smiling face as he stared down at her.

“There she is!" he proclaimed childishly as she pouted.

“Wes, how can you possibly find what just happened attractive even in the slightest, little bit?" asked the Dalmatian incredulously.

Wesley shrugged. “I don't know; I just do! I told you that I have a kink about butt-stuff!"

“…There's something seriously wrong with you," she deadpanned.

“Said the girl who apparently gets off on smelly, cum-stained mattresses," he retorted.

Molleen blushed again. “Sh-shut up!" she playfully shoved him in the stomach. “At least I don't get turned on by cum-y farts!"

“Touché," he conceded. “But, while we're on the subject; hey, Molleen?"

“What?"

“Poke!" Wesley suddenly thrust his hips forward, pressing the tip of his semi-flaccid cock into the canine's still tender ass before pulling back out again, causing her to jolt and bristle.

“Wes!" She admonished with another, firmer shove. “That wasn't very nice!"

He laughed as he shrugged again. “Hehe! What can I say; I'm a deviant at heart!"

“Yes, you are!" agreed Molleen whom, despite having just been violated unexpectedly, was beginning to feel less insecure about the state of things. “And an incorrigible one at that!"

“You know it!" Wesley beamed proudly. “And, with that in mind; hey, Molleen?"

She narrowed her eyes at him menacingly. “You're not about to poke me again, are you?"

“Meh," he shook his head. “Not here, I'm not."

“Not here?" She canted her head curiously.

“Before your little melt down, I was going to ask you if you'd be up to fuck in the shower," he waggled his eyebrows at her. “So; do you want to go fuck in the shower?"

Molleen only stared at him in disbelief. After everything that they had done, Wesley was still apparently rearing to go! It was a sobering thought that, as she took inventory of herself and felt how sore her body already was, had her deeply concerned about the state of her future wellbeing. She already couldn't close her ass, and her pussy felt like it had been put through a meat tenderizer! Her throat was a little scratchy too, which only further served to heighten her anxiety about actually being fucked to death! Nevertheless, as she felt a particularly sneaky hand drift down to her nether regions and tenderly rubbed her abused, but nonetheless aroused, little button, she couldn't help but sigh and acquiesce to just one more bout.

“Fine," she conceded, to which Wesley excitedly, if not entirely immaturely, fist-pumped victoriously. “But!" she cut his celebration short as she garnered his attention. “First, and I want this to be very clear between us, I didn't have a 'melt down', as you called it. It was an entirely justifiable reaction to assuming that I'd just ruined things between us. Second, you have to go down on me despite having pumped me full of jizz; that's non-negotiable. And, third," she scooted forward so that her muzzle was beneath his lips and she kissed him passionately. “You have to tell me every day that I'm the best thing to ever walk into your life, and that you love me like you'll love no other. Think you can handle that, stud?"

Wesley beamed at her, leaned down, and kissed her back. “First, I can accept that and resend my words, and further assure you that you'll never ruin anything between us. Second, I was going to do that anyway. And, third," he leaned back and picked the Dalmatian up bodily before placing her in his lap, and peppered her lips with kisses again. “You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me; and, while I think it goes without saying, I swear on my life that I love you more than anything. I always will."

Smiling at one another, Molleen leaned in close as if to kiss Wesley again. However, before their lips ever made contact, and, in a feat of canine flexibility, the Dalmatian rolled backwards out of his lap, crossed the bed, and slid down the edge to stand on the opposite side of him. With her paws on her hips, she turned around and hiked her tail high, flaunting her pussy and ass, both of which continued to drool a dwindling stream of their combined juices down her legs.

She looked over her shoulder, smiled salaciously, and then winked at him.

“Well, Stud?" she purred. “Are you just going to sit there? Or, are we going to try to get clean while getting down and dirty in the shower?"

Swallowing hard, Wesley abruptly flailed off the mattress, narrowly falling as he sprinted over to Molleen's side and then fervently ushered her towards the bathroom.

“Jesus Christ," he exclaimed, approaching the shower with his lover in tow. “It's like I made you in a computer or something!"

Molleen giggle at his antics. “Maybe; but, at least you can do more than just watch me while you beat off!"

“Oh; and the things we'll do!" He started the water, and, once it was warm, proffered his hand to the canine. “After you, my saucy, sweet, concubine!"

“Still such a gentleman, I see!" she giggled as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the water. “Now, get in here and do me!"

“With gusto, madam!"