FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There were simpler times for Heather. At least compared to her most recent predicament. A young vixen of about nineteen, she had studied in a decent high school, nothing too elite and unbearable, though she did make it a point for herself to give it her all in every subject. She had graduated with almost 100 percent. Without giving it too much thought, she chose a decent university a few cities over, about a six-hour trip by train. She studied economics, a four year program with a specialization after the second year. Since her parents were more on the wealthier side, being upper class with her father working as bank accountant and her mother a cardiologist, they could afford for her to have her own place, instead of living in the dorms.

She got along well with her colleagues at the university, quickly making new friends. She was always ready to help out with any homework and everybody was more than happy to return the favor. She wouldn't miss any classes, she would study every afternoon and would usually go to bed at a reasonable time, if there weren't any other plans. Except for the weekends, when she would most definitely go out with her colleagues. Sometimes their group would be quite large, with almost the entire class going together to a club. Other times it would be a girl's night out, with just three or four other girls going to a nice bar.

Whatever the venue, Heather always tried to have a good time. She would dance at the clubs, gossip at the bars, her drink always sweet, almost exclusively cocktails, since she didn't really like hard liquors. But there was always somebody who would offer her hard liquors. To her and her friends. Mostly to her friends. She was always left last. Although she always refused the drinks, she couldn't help but feel a bit down each time. She didn't consider herself ugly in any way. Sure her breasts were an A-cup, her butt was small and her hips weren't particularly wide and her haircut completed the look of a teenage boy who had just started growing his hair out, but she wasn't ugly. She thought herself as misunderstood on some fundamental level. But even if the guys at bars did find her attractive enough for her not to be at last place, she wouldn't do anything with them. She had promised herself that she would save herself for somebody important. She just needed to find that somebody, someday.

Or for him to find her.

It was all the same really.

At that particular point in time, love wasn't exactly on Heather's to do list. She was far too busy with uni, managing social cliques and trying to survive on a diet of hardboiled eggs, cheese, mayonnaise and bread. She had a habit of spending most of her money at the bars, leaving her with little for her actual needs. The thought of asking her parents for more crossed her mind from time to time, but it didn't really feel right. She didn't want to burden them. She felt like they had enough troubles on their mind for her to add another one.

A job was always an option, but most part time jobs didn't really offer that much money. And she couldn't take a full-time job since that would eat up her study time too much. She thought long and hard what she could don. She didn't possess any real artistic skills which she could sell online. Nor was she handy in any way that she could make money from.

One night it came to her.

The next day she bought herself a mask. She used the webcam that her parents had insisted on her buying for video calls. Hesitantly, she took some photos of herself In provocative positions at different states of undress and she shot few videos of her stripping and masturbating.

It was a simple plan really. Put a few porn clips online for someone to buy. If it went well enough, she just might do a few more. There wouldn't be any money troubles further down the line supposedly. She made sure to put on the mask real good, so no one would be able to recognize her face. She was a bit dubious of how the mask would exactly protect her identity, since it only covered the top half of her face, but that wasn't really that much of an issue. What was important now was for her to chin up and do what she believed to be the right thing.

She felt anxious, her hand trembling as the cursor hovered over the "upload" button. Her breathing shallow and cold, her jaw twitching. Was this really the best way to handle the situation? Heather was starting to rethink her decision, but she had already pressed the button.

Ten five minute clips. She danced, stripped and masturbated. Always a different song, dance and masturbation pose. It was okay. A few people are going to like them and buy them. She would get a few extra bucks and that would be the end of it.

She thought it all through. A few people would buy them. Then she would delete her account. A few people would buy them. Then she would delete her account.

She told herself that over and over and over until she finally felt good about what she had done.

The entire process was a roller-coaster of emotions, from the moment she had hatched up the plan until it all fell into place. It was quite a rush. She hadn't felt something like that in a long long time.

Now it was all out of her hands. She would just sit back and let the internet do its thing.

She waited. And waited. And waited.

A few weeks had passed and there was no money coming in. Why was that? Didn't she do a good job? Wasn't she pretty enough? Heather got frustrated. She made a few more clips, this time without the mental gymnastics, and she uploaded them.

Again nothing.

It was infuriating. Why didn't anybody buy her videos? She continued chugging them out without a response. Until the day she got a response.

Somebody had bought a clip. Heather was ecstatic. She had received whole ten dollars. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She was a firm believer of the snowball effect. Once it got started it going to happen.

And it did happen. A few days later another video was bought. And then another. And another. Soon enough she had made 100 dollars from her venture. Heather was overjoyed. She was finally making some money. She could finally afford the classy mayonnaise and even some meat. Things were starting to look up.

Until interest once again fell.

And Heather, now less shy and unrulier, once again posted new videos and new pictures.

But this time it seemed like interest wasn't picking up as much.

After a few days of anxious sleep, she finally figured out what she should do.

She watched a few cam shows she had found online, trying to get the gist of what was expected by her. Her thoughts states ranged from indifference to utter disgust. But it had to be done. She had already convinced herself. And to turn back now would mean that the entire escapade had been for naught.

She gritted her teeth and after a few days of delaying she used what money she had saved up to buy a vibrating dildo and held a livestream.

Its' success was somewhat debatable, but three people had watched her and she managed to get fifty dollars from the show. She was surprised at how tame it was, the viewers just asking her questions, calling her cute and sending her tips so she would take off her clothes. The show's ending was a masturbation session and everyone seemed happy.

Fifty bucks wasn't so bad for about two hours of work. The next day, she decided to host another live show. This time she had ten viewers. And she came out with eighty dollars. The time after that were eleven viewers, but she ended up with forty dollars.

In any case, the live shows were much easier to do, they were more financially rewarding. But the cherry on the top was that she actually felt good while doing them. Strangers talking to her, asking her what she did, calling her cute, it was actually very nice. The most commonly asked question had been if she would take off her mask and she never did. Some of them wanted her to do anal and vaginal penetration with the dildo, which she always declined. She did do oral, which turned out was pretty hard to do, which she never expected, but the viewers liked it. But at the end of it all the one thing she actually enjoyed the most was showing the viewers her feet. It was easy and not as embarrassing as all the other things. She did feel silly when she was asked to lick her soles, but a twenty was a twenty, so she happily obliged.

Slowly but steadily she had formed a following, with each show having around ten constant viewers and between three and six newcomers. It wasn't so bad. She had learned the preferences of her fans - she wore the clothes which they liked, did their favorite poses and she even got better at sucking the dildo. She did still gag when she forced a bit too much, but each time she went a bit further. Strangely enough, she even started enjoying licking her feet.

Everything had been going pretty good. She did shows three times a week, each show lasting between two and three hours, she got between fifty and eighty dollars a night and on rare occasions even a hundred when more generous newcomers would show up. Financially she was doing pretty good.

Socially things hadn't changed. She still went out on weekends, drinking at bars and dancing in clubs. But this time around, when she was left as the last option for some macho wolf or a gentleman fox, she didn't feel embarrassed. There were people who wanted her, who would talk to her and he would do anything for her that she just might want, at least according to what they had told her. All she had to do was asking nicely, take their cock or, apparently, step on their balls. In any case, she started feeling good about her boyish figure. She had started to like herself.

All was well as well on the academic front. Even with her livestreams, she managed to keep up with all her homework and projects. She didn't have as much time to help out her colleagues, but nobody held it against her. She had been doing so well that she even managed to take preliminary exams in every class, releasing her from the midterm exams.

Despite her newfound free time, she couldn't really hang out with anyone, since most had to study for their exams, but she didn't really feel like going back home. So she made the most logical decision she could. She would up her camshows, streaming at more appropriate times of the day. Her viewership steadily grew and with that so did her savings.

Aside from actual food, she had made enough money to buy herself things that she actually wanted - clothes, trinkets, plushies and the like. But she did make sure to invest some of her earnings back into the shows. She bought herself a new, better camera. She found a lamp with changing colors as well as an intensity setting. On the wall she hung up little lamps, at first thinking they were Christmas lamps. She bought herself everything she saw other streamers had.

But she didn't forget the fans. She knew what they liked. She bought herself hoodies, both plain for business and personal use, as well as sillier ones with anime references she didn't really understand, exclusively for business purposes. She bought herself fishnets and knee-high socks. She started wearing rings, stainless steel only - she couldn't afford silver, but she reassured herself that it would be wasteful and tacky. She started wearing chained necklaces with pentagrams, or bats, or whatever she found cute at the time. She started doing heavier makeup, making a longer eyeline. As silly as it felt, she bought herself a few toerings as well and even an anklet. Oddly, the actually made it a habit to wear those in her free time.

She even bought herself new masks, each with a different design - from the minimalistic, to jester masks to bird masks. She customized the masks in different ways, either by simply painting them a new color or adding colorful swirls, lines, outlining the eyeholes or even making little drawings.

Everything had been going well for Heather. Her fanbase grew from ten to thirty a short span. She could afford to live anyway she wanted, parsimony being a distant memory by this point. The thought of actually investing some of the money into something profitable had popped up a few times. And why wouldn't she? She was studying economics after all. It made sense. Taking the profits of one investment and investing a percentage into something else. She had made a mental note to check up on some good investment options. If she played her cards right, she wouldn't even have to do the camwhoring for all that long. It was a nice idea, to be able to just live off some stocks and bonds. Fedex seemed like an interesting prospect. And the cryptocurrency market was an everpresent subject when the question of finances popped up in her friendgroups. But each time she thought about quitting the livestreams, there was a small part of her that protested. She really did feel liked there. But she knew that it wouldn't be long before they demanded from her penetration. And when she couldn't deliver, her fans would slowly stop showing up.

She always dismissed the entire thought process and she said to herself that she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

One day, when she had finally mustered up the courage to buy some stocks with her hard earned money of some small time digital firm called "Technomancy" while she was coming back home from grocery shopping, she stumbled onto a little box, right in front of her door.

Curious.

She hadn't been expecting any deliveries. The box didn't have any packaging nor any note on it. It just had the words "For Heather" hastily, almost unintelligibly, scribbled on top of it.

In her home, she left the box on her desk, planning on opening it later, after she had cooked herself some chicken stew - an old village recipe her grandmother had thought her. After dinner, she sat at her computer, searching up appropriate investment sites and settling on the one that had the best reviews. She did what she had planned and she bought five hundred dollars' worth of "Technomancy"'s stocks.

She felt pretty good about herself. She put on some music and took the box. She examined it from all sides, tossed it a few times and shook it sturdily. She cautiously undid the tape and opened it.

She was relieved to not find a bomb nor a mechanism that would spew anthrax onto her, but she found herself a bit perplexed. There was a flash drive and a note.

"Wait for further instructions."

Odd.

The flash drive, innocent looking enough, was about the size of her finger and was about sixteen megabytes. An old model most likely. She put in her computer, realizing way too late that it could have a virus on it.

The good thing was, that it didn't had a virus.

The bad thing was that it had something much worse.

With a virus, she could have given it for repairs, or at worse, buy herself a new one.

Her breathing quickened. Her heartbeat could have deafened her.

The flash drive contained videos.

Videos of her.

Right before or after her shows, putting on and taking off her mask. It had videos of her walking around naked in her apartment. Videos of her masturbating without her mask. Videos of her simply lying naked on her sofa. All the videos had been shot from the same angle. Right where her camera was.

Somebody knew. Somebody knew who she was, where she lived and most likely what she had been doing.

Tears formed in her eyes, while her jaw trembled, as she looked at the note once again.

"Wait for further instructions."

What did that mean?

What was going to happen to her?

Her stomach was in knots. She held it in as much as she could, but at the end she cried. She cried all night long, cuddled up in a ball underneath her blankets.

There was someone out there who knew her. Who had seen her at her most vulnerable. And she had no clue who he was. Or she. They could be anybody. They had even managed to track her down. What were they planning.

This had to be a prank.

Oh, God! How she wished this was some prank. Let the instructions be

"Have a pleasant day."

Or

"Eat more vegetables."

Or even

"Let your cunt hair grow out more."

Let it be something stupid.

She could go to the police. But what would that accomplish? Besides outing herself as a camera slut, whoring out online for perverts and degenerates. Her stalked probably knew her routine. They could have even hacked her phone.

She wasn't safe.

She didn't feel safe.

Was she going to get raped?

Or were they planning on releasing the videos of she didn't comply?

The thought ruined her.

She cherished her privacy the most at this point. She didn't want anybody to know what she had been up to.

Oh, God. If she could, she would have never started this sexstream.

She should have just eaten her eggs and mayo and been happy.

She cried the entire night. And finally when she was too tired of crying, she went to sleep.

She woke up the next day tired, her eyes and throat dry. Last night felt like a nightmare. There was a distant hope deep inside her that it was just that. She got up from her bed and sluggishly dragged herself into the living room. The box was still on her desk with the flash drive right next to it. She shuttered, her tail prickling.

There really wasn't much that she could do, so she tried to go on with her day as usual. She went for a walk in the park, she went to the postal office to pick up her lava lamp that had arrived and she came back home, passing through the grocery store, all the while trying to suppress the anxiety that had been building inside of her.

She had a show that night. She didn't feel like doing a show very much, but she had to. She needed the money. And skipping out on a show might mean a potential loss of fans. She couldn't really risk it.

She did her make-up, straightened her hair and put on her newest black sweater. Tonight was a kneesocks and kitty panties night. She put on her mask and stared at herself in the mirror.

Was this a mistake?

She could just quit right there and then. No more live shows. Money wasn't going to be an issue for some time.

But what if that freak leaked her videos? Would people understand that she was in the privacy of her home? And that person did was a crime?

Possibly.

It was highly possible.

But somehow she knew that he wouldn't just leak her private videos. Her livestreams, videos and photos would most certainly be attached. The entire world would know that she was just another camwhore, no better than any other slut online.

She held back her tears so as to not ruin her makeup.

She sat in her chair and hesitantly took off the shirt she had thrown on the camera.

For the first time in so long she felt uncomfortable in front of it.

The livestream that night went as well as she could have expected. Standard talks, standard tips and standard show. Some of the viewers had noticed that she didn't seem quite right, but she just told them that she was a bit sick.

The show went on as normal, but the more time passed the less she felt like talking. The striptease was purely mechanical at that point, stiff and lifeless. And when it came time for the masturbation finale, she couldn't even climax.

She said she was sorry and ended the stream earlier.

She covered the camera again and now as she sat there alone, she allowed herself to cry once more.

The days went by. She expected further instructions but none came. Her spirits slowly started to lift. Maybe it was all really just a prank in the end. Although her shows improved, she couldn't really calm down enough to do a proper stream like she used to. She also formed a habit of always covering up the camera when not in a show.

The days went buy. Things were really starting to look better.

And then came the second box.

The girl shuttered.

Opening the box revealed a black dog collar with Heather's name on the tag alongside a box of pills with the instructions written on them "take two per day". At the bottom there was a note.

"Wear it around the house. And don't cover up the camera. I want to see your pretty face =)"

With trembling hands she put on the collar and took the pills. There was nothing else written on them. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she swallowed two pills, gagging on them. She forced them down with a glass of water and her stomach turned.

Was she insane?

God knows what these things were.

She unveiled the camera - it's singular black eye staring at the poor, young vixen, penetrating her privacy with unblinking sadism.

Heather stood at the gates of Hell.

That night she didn't sleep. Her mind raced with thoughts of escaping. It still wasn't too late to quit everything. Even if she got outed, it wouldn't be so bad. It would be better than walking with a collar and taking pills. People would understand. She just needed money and someone took advantage of her. Her colleagues at the university were good and reasonable folk. They would be sympathetic to her plights.

And the professors seemed like nice people all around. Surely nobody would try and take advantage of her situation.

And finding a job wasn't going to be too big of a hassle. No boss would have any sort of prejudice against an exploited former sex worker.

Right?

The days passed and so did her shows. The collar was surprisingly well received. And somehow, this time around, Heather didn't feel so anxious as before. The pills started becoming a routine.

Sometime later, she received another box, this time with a simple comic taken from an instructional guide for dog behaviors and a note saying "be a good pup".

She understood what was being asked of her. She started walking around on four legs, rolling on her pack and panting heavily. And once again, it had been well received by her supporters, garnering her more fans and more money. She would whimper when she felt uneasy and would bark excitedly when she got donations. It took some time, but she started presenting herself like a dog whenever she would masturbate.

And people went wild for it. Adding the dog routine seemed to work wonders. Heather even started to believe that the stalker didn't mean her any harm and was only trying to help her out. It seemed plausible at this point. Nothing new had happened for some time. Strangely enough, she actually felt better than even before she started livestreaming. Maybe it had been the pills. She did feel much happier and a bit hornier. Her tits getting more sensitive and she felt like they might have grown a little bit. The nipples for sure had become more sensitive to the touch and a bit pointier than they were.

And once again everything seemed fine and well. And on the day she ran out of pills, a new box came.

This time it said "take three per day".

There was another note.

"Love your tails, but sadly, it isn't a dog tail."

The same night she had a show. She was nervous and the fans noticed. They asked her what was going on and if everything was alright, to which she replied that she just felt tired and she might be catching something.

Then she received a donation.

The biggest one she had gotten up until then.

One thousand dollars.

And the text that came with it was

"I want you to shove something up your butt >=)"

This time, she broke down.

In front of all her viewers she started sobbing. Whimpering and crying she took out the lubricant that was in the box.

She squirted some lube on her finger and gently massaged her asshole, her finger trembling and her hole quivering to the cold touch of the lube.

She then pulled out the butt-plug and started lubing it up, pouring the contents of the bottle onto it and rubbed it. It felt unreal, like she was some puppet on strings, her actions not feeling like her own.

She didn't dare look at her screening. It was exploding with texts and tips but she couldn't look at it. She didn't have the heart to do it.

With tears on her eyes she pressed the butt-plug to her asshole, a dog tail hanging from one end of it. She pushed. She pushed hard.

Heather clenched her teeth. The lube helped, but it didn't help enough. The butt-plug stretched her asshole as it slowly got deeper. She yelled from the paint, clutched the armrest of her chair and squirmed back and forth.

It finally popped inside her. It was done. Her asshole tightened around the butt-plug, squeezing it viciously. Excluding the pain during entrance, it wasn't so bad. The foreign body was nestled nicely inside her anal cavity. It wasn't going anywhere for sure. Maybe she could get used to it.

Still not looking at the screen, she started masturbating. Her clitoris plump and red and engorged, flicked between her fingers. It was much more sensitive that night. It could have been because of the butt-plug itself, or the stress from doing in in front of a live audience. Maybe it was because of the pills. But it felt...good. Oddly satisfying. Her movement quickened as she panted harder and harder. Drool slipped down her open mouth. Her eyes, partially closed, but clearly pointed upwards, not looking at anything in particular. Her mind was blank. A void of darkness without any other thought, but achieving orgasm.

To the orchestra of new messages and received tips, she masturbated. More violently and more furiously than ever before. It had never felt this good. They wanted to see her. And she wanted to be seen. This was it. Pure ecstasy. With a loud scream, she climaxed, squirting all over her desk.

As she came back from the high, she opened her eyes and sensually liked her fingers with a smile. Her latest message, paired with a five hundred dollar tip, read

"Now pull it out >=)".

The experience had certainly been different. Now Heather, fully aware that she was into anal play, started incorporating it into her shows. Firstly she did fingering, followed by the butt-plug. Taking it out was always a bit of a hassle, but with time she eased herself into. But it didn't take long for her to get a tad more adventurous. One night, as she fingered her ass during a show, someone put a fifty dollar tip, asking her two fingers inside. She complied. Fifty dollars more and she put a third finger. Fifty more and the forth finger was jammed inside. And with one hundred more dollars she stuffed her fist inside. Moving it back and forth, never actually pulling it out or pushing it further in, she screamed in joy. More and more tips rolled as her fans eagerly watched the vixen fuck herself until she finally climaxed.

It was another one of those weird experiences - being able to cum from only anal stimulation. But for some time she had been feeling much, much hornier than she had ever had. Her tits were now bigger, heavier even and her hips were much more defined. She would masturbate much more frequently throughout the day. At times even in front of her camera. She would bark and pant as she rubbed her pussy, thinking to herself that this is what her stalker wanted most likely. It was the least she could do for that sick fuck, who had somehow managed to gently push her towards a much more sexually free lifestyle, getting rid of her old taboos and fears. With her newfound sexual freedom came also a much deserved financial one. Yes, that bastard probably enjoyed watching this fox/dog girl howling as she climaxed over and over.

One day came another box.

The box was bigger. And besides the pills, it had a dog inside it.

"A new friend." Said the note this time around.

It was odd, for sure, but Heather didn't really think much of it. The landlord needn't know that there was a dog in the flat. What would the stalker actually want for the girl to do with the little golden retriever? Probably play around. It made sense. He treated as if she were a dog, so...it was time for puppy play.

She took the dog on walks, fed it well and played with it in front of the camera.

And one day, as she fell asleep naked on the couch after another show, the dog fucked her. She jumped awake, screaming from the shock and pain. In a vicious instant, her virginity was gone. The dog was quick, fucking her speedily before ejaculating inside her and jumping off her.

Her cunt quivered, drenched in cum and blood.

This is what the dog was for.

This is what the stalker wanted.

She was raped by a dog in front of the camera as she slept.

It was way beyond painful. Way beyond humiliating. The freak got what he wanted. A dog with a dog show.

She didn't dare throw the dog out, fearing what might happen if she did.

That night she took a long shower, emptying and entire bottle of vaginal soap. As she scrubbed herself clean, she cried. When she remembered what had happened, her stomach turned, barely stopping herself from throwing up.

She slept with her bedroom door locked. Sleeping wasn't the right word. Throughout the night she would wake up in cold sweats, her eyes dry. She would cry herself back to sleep, her hands tucked between her legs. And then she would wake up again, with visions of a mutt ramming her.

In the morning, there was ringing at the door.

The dog was gone. But the new box contained a new, slightly larger dog. And a note with a webaddress, name and password.

It was another streaming site. This one of a more...specialized variety.

As she browsed the models, she continually gasped in horror from the clips. Girls of all ages and sizes, mounted by dogs, horses, even dolphins. The name and password were for an account. Her account. There was one video uploaded. It was from the night before, how she got fucked while she slept.

A message on her dashboard stated

"Watch my show, every Friday, as I fuck bigger and meaner dogs."

It was Friday.

She looked at the new pet. Wide eyed, happily wagging its tail. Heather's breathing got shallower and her hands started trembling. The dog looked at her and barked happily.

She downed her new dose of pills with a glass of whiskey and began the show as it had been promised. There fifty people watching. She lifted up the dog and gently kissed his snout, to which he excitedly started licking her face. Cringing, she did the same, licking his face and tongue. Then the tips began.

Eight hundred dollars worth of tips. Heather smiled sheepishly, not sure of what exactly to do. She rubbed the dogs belly, slowly reaching down towards his cock. She felt it in her hand, how it got bigger.

Five hundred more dollars.

She gently stroked it, hoping she was doing it right. Hoping the mutt wouldn't get angry and bite her. Hoping that her stalker wouldn't get angry.

She could have stopped before. A few tapes in the privacy of her home were one thing. Getting fucked by a dog while she slept was a whole different story. There was no turning back now.

She continued stroking his cock to the sounds of more and more tips. He was bigger than the last one, not by much. Nervously, she bent down and licked the bright red dick. It wasn't as bad as she thought it might be.

She licked a few more times, before putting it in her mouth. It wasn't so bad. She bobbed her head back and forth. Then the dog started fucking her face, its cock sliding in and out of her throat.

She started chocking and violently pushed it away. Gasping for air, she looked towards her screen. Already she had managed to gather fifteen hundred dollars.

It wasn't bad. Maybe...maybe this was good.

She started massaging her pussy, getting wet quite fast and then she got on all fours, presenting herself to the dog.

Without much hesitation, the dog jumped her. She had clenched her teeth, prepared for a barrage of pain. But, oddly enough it wasn't so bad. It was quite pleasurable in fact. She moaned softly as the excited dog humped her, going in and out over and over again until finally he came inside her.

The first time, she had been humiliated. The second time, she embarrassed. The third time, she felt awkward. The fourth she felt shy. From then one, she craved it.

Weeks went by. Her shows became twice weekly. Than thrice. Finally it was every day. The money just kept on coming, but money wasn't that important by then. She just wanted to be fucked by bigger and bigger dogs, in front of an audience.

The breeds changed, from the small golden retriever that had taken her virginity, to the bigger pooch that fucked her for the first time, to bigger and stronger species.

University had begun, but she didn't care. Why would she need to go to university? She made all the money she could possibly need, getting fucked by dogs. And she fucked well. She could take a dick like a champ, and she screamed in delight when she got knotted.

She would let her dogs fuck her in the cunt, in the ass and she would even blow them when she felt a bit more romantic. When she didn't, she'd just let them fuck her face. Although she enjoyed being stuffed and cummed inside, whether it be her cunt or ass, she also liked it very much when a dog would cum in her mouth. She loved the salty taste of semen, she loved swishing and splashing the thick, salty substance in her mouth, rubbing it against her teeth and cheeks. She loved the burning sensation in her throat when she swallowed it, getting particularly hot when she would gag on it and she could almost climax herself simply by the sensation of the cum slipping down her insides and into her stomach.

Then came Brutus. Brutus was a German Sheppard, almost as big as her, muscular, powerful. She had learned to appreciate the beauty of a dog in a way that she believed no woman could. When he was delivered, she fell in love with this perfect specimen. His broad back, his thick fur. The first thing she did when he arrived was to grab him by his huge balls. They barely fit in her hand. She massaged them, licked them and sucked them, until his dick got out. And what a dick it was, bigger than any she had seen before. She wanted him.

She didn't bother doing liveshows anymore. She would just fuck her dogs infront of the camera and videos got uploaded to her page. All of them paid. All of them topsellers. The money got transferred directly to her account.

She presented herself to Brutus in front of the camera. He mounted her, unlike any other. He fucked her like an animal. Like a bitch. And she felt it. She as his bitch. It had never felt so good. She moaned and screamed. Her tits, bigger than ever flopped back and forward, slapping against her belly, as Brutus took what was his. He came five times. She came twelve. At the end of their session, she was left ass up, face planted on the ground, grinning in a pile of her own saliva, her eyes crossed and her tongue outstretched.

When she finally got ahold of her sense, Brutus had already fallen asleep on her couch. She got up, her belly engorged with cum. She could swear that it was almost a liter.

And so the days went on. He got fucked her like a whore, better than any man could. She would let Brutus fuck her cunt, her ass, her mouth. Whatever he might wish. And he did seem to have different preferences on different days - fucking her cunt and then cumming in her ass; or fucking her mouth and then cumming in her cunt. But her favorite was when she fucked her cunt, then her ass and finally her face.

And this went on. Her parents would call her from time to time, wanting to video-chat, but she always said that her camera wasn't working. They would ask her about school and she would tell them it was going well. And it was. From all the money she managed to acquire, one day she simply went the headmaster and bought her diploma. By that time, it was just chump-change to her. The headmaster eagerly agreed. She then fucked him. She fucked his brains out. She just wanted to see if it was any different with a person. And it was. He wasn't as good as Brutus. When she came home that night, she cried. It was because of her conscience. She was surprised to find out that she still had one. But it wasn't because she bought her diploma, or that she felt shame from fucking her headmaster. Well, she did feel shame, but it had nothing to do with what one might expect. It was because she felt like she cheated on Brutus. That night, she made sure that he knew that she loved him.

She would suck and fuck her days away. When summer came around, she told her parents she would be staying there, working. During the hotter days, when they both felt like fucking, but couldn't really move, she would give him a handjob while she blew him. He would lay on his back, panting excitedly and she would fist her cunt viciously. Sometimes her ass. And sometimes still - both.

Everything was going wonderful. She would order take out for herself and Brutus. There was no need to leave her flat for anything. But this wasn't a flat anymore. It was now a home. She didn't need anything but her Brutus to carry on living. She was in love. And she knew Brutus loved her too. The fucking was great, but there were tender moments as well. He always slept by her side, he licked her face whenever she might feel down. And he let her kiss him as deep as she could. He even started eating her out regularly while she blew him.

Everything was going wonderful. But one day, the unthinkable happened.

After a long night of fucking, she woke up in the afternoon. Drowsy and horny, she called out for her lover, but he didn't come. She called again and again there was nothing. He wasn't there. He wasn't in the flat. On the desk there was a note.

"You've done everything I wanted from you. You are free to go. The money you made and will continue to make from the videos is yours. Have a happy life."

She crumpled up the note. Have a happy life. She started crying. How could she have a happy life without Brutus? What sick joke was this?

She went to her computer and started yelling and screaming and begging and threatening. She went hysterical over the loss of Brutus. She bargained and sobbed and begged until she lost her voice. And even then she tried to reason with her stalker to bring Brutus back.

After three hours, she fell asleep, exhausted on the couch. And she was woken up by a mighty thrust. She opened her eyes and saw Brutus fucking her once again, ravaging her. She hugged him tight and they fucked the entire night and the next day and the next night, until both of them were completely drained.

Heather had been a bright, young girl, a bit shy, but friendly enough. She had been saving herself for the right man. And, although she didn't exactly manage to save herself for him, he didn't mind. He was more than happy to be with her. And to have a family with her.

One night, Heather gave birth to twelve pups. Each one, a stunning image of his father. By then, whether from the pills, which never really stopped coming, or from the pregnancy, or from some combination of both, Heather's tits and ass had grown to absurd sizes, her tits reaching her hips, and yet big and fat and plump as ever. And oh, her boys loved sucking on her tits. Sucking their mother's milk while their father fucked her. And soon enough, as they grew to resemble their father more and more in size, build and strength, as well as cocks, they would fuck her as well.

And oh, how she loved it when she got fucked. She loved it when she fucked her sons and their dad at the same time. She loved it having three dicks in her cunt, four dicks in her ass and three more in her mouth. She loved it when they all came at the same time, filling her up. She loved it when they fucked her on the floor, or on the bed, or in the bathroom. She loved it when they licked her pussy. She even liked it when they liked her feet. She loved being filled with cum and being covered in cum. She loved that the floor and sofa and bed was sticky from all the dried up semen. She loved the smell of her flat. And she loved it when the entire family slept together and she made out with Brutus before falling asleep.

As time passed, more and more videos got uploaded and her bank account grew. That was nice. But money wasn't as important as what she had here. She had love. True love. And a family of her own. A loving family, for which she cared for. In her own eyes, she was the perfect picture of a happy and devoted wife, mother and soon to be grandmother.