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**Carrying on the Pack

By: Veronica Foxx

For: Bloodgod245**

Lita snuggled in her den with her one-year-olds, cozily warm with their furred forms pressed tight against her scales. The hermaphroditic dragoness was content with the changed direction of her life and no longer held any regret for the lost bet that had caused it. She had spent a night in the forest outside of town after losing that bet, but it had facilitated her introduction to her mate. The dire wolf had been stalking any humanoid female that passed through his territory, taking them by force, and leaving them to deal with the consequences. Lita, however, had not needed force to be taken. Having a willing bitch to hand hadn't completely sated the wolf's appetites, but he certainly kept her own well satisfied.

After nearly two years, she was itching to have a third litter and had done her best to communicate it to him, but to no avail. She had tried presenting herself as usual, sucking him to hardness and leaving him blue-balled, and even gone so far as to slather her dripping snatch all over his nose without getting the response she wanted. It was the first time that he had left her wanting, for a whole week at least, and her fingers just wouldn't do after having had his knot so many times. She needed his gigantic wolf cock, and badly, and he absolutely refused to give it to her!

She planned to turn up the heat to the nines once he returned from hunting with her first litter. Soon enough, she knew, they would be splitting off to form their own packs or join existing ones, and he would start teaching her second litter to hunt, as he had taught the first. Perhaps he was getting ready to send them off and was focusing all of his attention on ensuring that their training was complete. Her children were no more communicative, though they could speak to both their mother and father.

The combination of draconic and dire genetics had given her offspring that were not quite so large as their father as young adults but far larger than the average wolf. The traces of their heritage lay across them in scales that added further armor to their hides, along with an additional quirk: they could shift between humanoid and feral forms. The five-strong brood was a mix of features that gave some dragon-clawed feet, others dragon tails and horns, and one had wings. Her second litter was a similar mix, and she looked forward to seeing how the third set would come out.

Even as she thought it, she heard the heavy thud of her mate's paws on the beaten trail home. It was the only time he made any sound, otherwise as silent as an owl in the night, with his dark fur helping to camouflage him on his nightly hunts. As always, he carried a bloody deer haunch between his jaws for her, laying it at the entrance to their den before padding in to lick at her cheek and nuzzle her neck, then he flopped down to wait while she cooked her food. Thankfully, he had never been afraid of fire and had quickly grown accustomed to the fact that she cooked her food rather than eating it raw.

While he rested and she cooked, her first litter romped outside the den with the exuberance of those just coming into adulthood and still thought of themselves as pups, tusseling and playing, drawing their younger siblings into their games, and occasionally begging for scraps whenever she cut off a bit of deer to test the cook on it. She tossed them the bones to fight over after she had eaten her fill and moved back into the den to snuggle up against her mate, scratching at the wolf's ear and throat the way he liked best while whining plaintively and grinding herself against him.

Surprisingly, this time he reacted, but not in the way she expected. After ten minutes or so, he rose, tumbling her off of him, and began butting at her with his nose. Confused but eager, she presented herself as he liked, chest to the floor and rear hiked high with her tail arched over her back, but he only slipped his nose beneath her and pushed her a foot or two forward across the dirt floor of their den. Confused, she rose to all fours to look back at him, and he nudged her again, butting his nose against her rump. She moved forward a few steps, and he nudged her again, so she stood.

He pressed his head firmly against her back and urged her forward, out of the den and into the small clearing in front of it, towards their children. She allowed him to guide her towards them, then stood baffled as he moved around her to growl and wuff at the kids. The elder litter came close to sit attentively in front of him while the younger moved to the edges of the clearing.

"What's this all about?" she asked of her favorite son, Shadowrun. "What does he want? You haven't told me all week, but it seems like he's ready for me to know."

The half-dragon wolf shifted to humanoid form, standing head and shoulders taller than her. A stripe of scales ran from his nose up over his head and down along his spine to a draconic tail, spreading across his shoulders to sprout into his wings.

"Sire says that it is nearly time for us to form our own packs," he answered. "He says that we must know how to do so, and so it is time for us to learn how to do so properly. We have seen the act, but we must know it fully to understand."

"Oh? Ohhhhh..." The dragoness thought she understood.

Considering the first litter had three sons and two daughters, it made sense that there might be a need for a third female in this demonstration. She had noticed the swelling of her daughter's tear-drop-shaped pussies, and guessed that it meant their bodies were getting ready for pups, the same as most anthros went into heat. This only confirmed her assumption, and she grinned widely. She was finally going to get the fuck she'd been missing for the last week.

Turning and dropping into the presenting pose again, she reached a hand back to smack her rump and ask, "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? I hope you're as well-endowed as your sire, or I'm going to be very disappointed."

Shadowrun smirked and answered before shifting back into his feral form. "I think that I will compare favorably..."

They had all seen her mated dozens of times, bred by their sire at least once a day save during her fertile periods except in fall, when he wanted her to have his litter. Her daughters took similar poses to her own, lining up beside her like obedient little bitches, though they were also twice her size. There was enough space between them on either side for Lita to look over her shoulder and watch as their brothers approached them. Even as one nosed at the daughter on her right, she felt Shadowrun's cold, wet pad brushing against her neglected folds. Looking to her left, she saw her third son's tongue part his lips to lap at his sibling's womanhood, and felt a tongue part her own folds.

From there, she was more focused on her own sensations. That it was her son performing the deed meant nothing to her at this point, only that she was finally getting some attention. His first lap between her netherlips set her to dripping, leaking her tempting fluids to tease his tastebuds. And he took to it as though dying of thirt. His tongue dove into her hole, the wide muscle pressing past her entrance to lap at her inner walls with fervor and eagerness. The feeling of something filling her, even if not quite as much as she wanted, had her squirming her hips and digging her claws into the dirt, bucking back against her son's snout with the neediness of any bitch in heat.

It seemed to last for hours, though she knew it could only be minutes. Their sire never was much of a one for foreplay, but her current state of arousal was such that any attention was enough to set a blaze alight in the pit of her stomach. Then the tongue pulled away, leaving her wanting more, feeling the cool night breeze replace the warmth that had lapped at her. A heavy weight landed on her back as paws grasped firmly at her waist, soft pants huffing warm breath against the back of her neck while furred hips bucked against her rear end. She could feel the emerging tip of Shadowrun's shaft bumping against her scales and sliming them with the copious pre-cum that canine cocks were wont to drool.

Whimpers from either side of her drew her attention while she was lacking in other areas, and she saw both daughters looking at her with fear and concern in their eyes. Reaching out to either side, she took their paws in her hands to comfort them. First one, then the other in short order, let out a yelp as their brothers found their marks, thrusting incestuous cocks into their virgin pussies. And then she was lost to anything else but the one that speared into her own.

Shadowrun did indeed compare favorably to his sire, his tip spreading her at least as wide, though as he grew and pressed further into her depths, she found an exciting difference between the two. Her son's shaft was ridged along the underside, like plated scales, with soft spines along the top, taking yet another bit of his anatomy from his draconic dame. Her hands clamped tight on her daughter's paws as he pounded deeper and deeper into her, not a hint of hesitation in his thrusts.

His tapered cock grew wider, much like his sire's, as it neared the base, stretching her entrance more and more. Each withdrawal pulled at her inner walls in ways that her mate never could, stroking at pleasure spots she had forgotten existed. This cock was made to mate with her, to breed her, to stimulate her anatomy into dropping eggs into her womb while providing her such pleasure that she wanted to be bred. Perhaps living with a rapist dire wolf had changed her sensibilities, but she wanted more than anything to feel her son tie with her, feel his shaft spearing into her womb, feel his knot locked tight inside her, feel his seed filling her womb.

After so many breedings by his sire, her womb offered little resistance when he forced himself deeper, the ridges and spines flaring to lock at its entrance. Her cervix strained backwards with each pull back, as if he were trying to pull her inside out, and each new thrust slid another set inside, ratcheting his cock into its rightful place. Soon enough, though an eternity of pleasure and enjoyable pain, she felt him bumping against the rear wall of her egg chamber, the swelling at his base bumping against her outer lips. He was not denting it as much as his sire, but she only cared that he was preparing to pump a fresh litter into her.

"Fuck me, Shadowrun!" she demanded. "Knot me! Breed me! Give me your puppies!"

Shadowrun, ever a momma's boy, was happy to oblige. His claws dug into her hips as he thrust even harder, driving his knot against her entrance. She felt herself readily spreading, stretching, though there was always that last bit of resistance. Her son had seen his sire breeding her time and again, and he felt no qualms about forcing his knot into her, no matter how much she was stretched. She felt it finally slip past the last of her body's defenses then swell inside her, ballooning to twice its width. Then came the flood of incestuous spunk to fill her womb to brimming and more.

Her howl joined her daughters as she came on her son's cock, milking at him for every last drop that he had to give. He lay panting atop her until her clenching slowed to a near halt, then dismounted and turned to stand rump to rump with her. This caused his shaft to twist within her as well, dragging those spines and ridges against her walls in a circular motion that tickled all new places. Accompanied by the tight tug at her entrance caused by the shift in position, she was sent into another bout of orgasmic bliss, another cry of pleasure echoing through the trees.

She didn't really come down until his knot shrank free and allowed him to pull free of her. Each pulse of his shaft caused the ridges and spinse to flex, driving at her pleasure spots yet again, and his final withdrawal left her shivering and clenching at nothing, leaking her son's seed. When at last, she regained her senses, she found her daughters in similar states to either side of her, both just as limp and panting as she.

Unlike them, however, her mate stood over her with what must have been a painfully erect shaft, drizzling pre down onto her muzzle. After a week of abstention, it seemed like he was finally ready for her once more, but he was going to be disappointed. Tonight, he was going to have to make do with his own tongue. She wanted to make good and sure that Shadowrun was very, very well acquainted with the art of breeding a bitch.

The End