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Let’s see… gotta wrap up this assignment, then there’s the two pages for bio, then I gotta ping Randal to see if he’s available for the project… and then that should still leave enough time to…

Ian tapped at his phone as he strode down the hall, the wild dog on reflex keeping his wide radar-dish ears back a bit so that they wouldn’t brush the walls or the ceiling when he dipped through the door. Down the way a bit he could hear the raucous enjoyment of whatever his older sister and their friends were doing – you’re in college, why in hell are you still having slumber parties? Do you want this to turn into a slasher movie? – muffled behind the mostly-closed door of her bedroom.

“Shut the fuck up!” he heard, followed by a peal of a laughter; that was Bailey, his sister. “What?” from Lillian, the only other voice he recognized; “All I’m saying is that he’s-” “That’s not what I meant, though!” “Then what did you mean?” “Here, I’m – come here-”

He rolled his eyes, sighed, and swiped his phone to the next screen as he walked, purposely keeping his head down just before going past her room. He wanted nothing to do with whatever they were up to tonight; thank God it was the weekend, but he still had a stack of homework to do and always preferred to get it knocked out ahead of time so that he could then enjoy the rest of his days off, and-

“Ian. Ian!” His stride broke for just a fraction of a second, but he tried to play it off and continued forward. “Oh, I know you heard me. I felt the gust of wind coming off your ears. Get your twinky ass in here.”

That one caught him off-guard, and he glanced up from his phone with a surprised grimace. ‘Twinky’? “Bailey,” he grumbled, reaching over to nudge the door further open, “I told you I have homework to do tonight, and you’re already being really loud so I had to turn my music up, and-”

And then he froze, words dying in his throat. There sat his sister, already prepared for bed in a shockingly thin nightdress that showed not only that she had already done away with her bra, but also showed each and every one of the smaller nipples lining her belly, visible through the sheer material. At her side lounged the lioness Lillian, who looked Ian up and down, smirked, then hid her smile behind her paw; and then two more friends he didn’t recognize, a wolfess and a mink, who murmured quietly between themselves in a way that just naturally made him uncomfortable; and then, for some reason, the family dog Ivy sat in between all of them, the feral German shepherd sitting on her haunches with her ears up, eyes bright, mouth open and tongue out, tail wagging for being so clearly the center of attention.

But it wasn’t the audience that made him freeze: it was the clearly freshly emptied bottle in the middle of the room atop a record album – that’s my limited edition Demon Days! I bought that for ninety bucks online and it’s probably worth five times that now! We don’t even have a record player but that’s not the point! – that pointed neck-end towards where he now stood in the door. Bailey looked from the bottle, to her brother, then to each of her friends in turn; she bit her lip, sharp fang nudging into the plush, succulent flesh, then reached slowly down to drum her claws along the empty glass.

“Fuck yeah,” Lillian chanted, “fuck yeah, fuck yeah-”

“Oh my God,” rumbled the mink, her voice lower than expected. “Oh, man. I gotta find my phone. Kara, did you-?”

Ian felt his ears swing again. “Bailey. Quit it. I’m not playing truth or dare with you.”

“Oh, that’s not it. We already finished with that.” Her claws clinked as she picked up the bottle, tilted it to her lips, then swirled her tongue just within the neck to clear off the last few dribbles, supple pink meat folding smoothly inside.

“So then what-? I thought…” He waved a dismissive paw at them. “...this, was just a thing in old movies to get folks to kiss.”

She plopped her tongue back out of the neck and pointed the bottle at him. A single drip of drink mixed with drool flung off. “Bingo. That’s why you’re salutatorian of your class and I’m barely floating a three-point-four.”

His heart skipped a beat, and once again he looked among the gathered crowd. Okay, first off, you know I don’t wanna kiss any of you – and second… “Bailey-”

“It’s no big deal.” The other wild dog rolled her eyes at him, dress just barely slipping from one shoulder a bit. She smirked again, nudged it back up on the neck of the bottle, and then motioned over at the lioness beside her. “Me and Lillian already kissed. So what.”

“Yeah, but y’all’ve known each other for, like-”

“Wouldn’t that make it weirder? That’s the fun of it.”

Lillian sat back and inspected her claws. “Not the best kiss I’ve had. But close, I think.”

Bailey rolled her head to look at her. “Honey, I didn’t give you my hundred percent.”

“Oh, I’m offended-”

“You can have another turn if it falls on you again.” She leaned forward to replace the bottle where it originally was. Ian glanced away; yep, definitely not wearing a bra. Just saw between her tits all the way down her belly. Ugh. “But Ian needs to do his, it’s only fair.”

“Bailey-”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Kara, can you get the door, please?”

The wolfess stood up, brushed herself off, and strode smoothly past Ian, her bushy tail brushing across his ankle as she approached. He pulled himself back, ears flattening; she scoffed softly, rolled her bright eyes, and nudged the door shut with her footpaw – then pushed him further into the room so that she could keep it closed.

He glared at her, met her return glare, then faltered and looked away again. The wild dog rubbed at his arm, other paw in the pocket of his pajamas. “Okay. Okay, whatever, you got me-” And then he leveled that attempted glare over at where Lillian now giggled with the mink where she still sat, both of them looking him suspiciously up and down. “So who am I kissing? I can just do that and then go?”

Immediately the chittering and giggling in the room fell silent – save for Kara, the wolfess, behind him stifling a snort behind her paw. It was only his sister who continued to look at him, tongue flicking out first across her upper lip and then her lower; slowly she smiled, a sly, evil look, and leaned back a bit. Ian watched, heart starting to thump.

No. Wait a second. No, no, that can’t be right…

And Bailey reached over, tapped Ivy on the shoulder, then murmured a few words of encouragement to the sitting feral. The German shepherd looked at her, wagged, then rose upright; Bailey cooed and coaxed her forward, taking her muzzle in both paws, touching her own nose to the dog’s, and brushed back across her fur.

“Bailey,” Ian interjected, “I am not going to kiss-”

“Yeah, yeah. You won’t be kissing her mouth.” Bailey hung one arm around the dog’s shoulders to pull her in against herself. “Does that change things?”

Ian tilted his head. There was that snort again.

His sister waited another second, rolled her head to her other shoulder, smiled again, and then with that arm still around the dog, turned her fully around. Ivy seemed confused at first but then went with it, turning her head this way and that so she could still see everyone else – and with her other paw Bailey reached over and smoothly, easily lifted the feral’s tail up and out of the way. Right underneath the base nestled the puckered reddish-pink of her tailhole, dank, greasy with naturally gathered scent; then the short rise of fur and flesh leading down to the rolls of succulent overlapping meat that formed her full, intact canine spade, the humid flesh jiggling slightly as she settled into her standing position.

Ian had urged their mother countless times before to get her fixed, only for the older wild dog to dismissively wave her paw and give something like “oh, it’s not that important” or “it hasn’t been an issue so far” and “but consider what it’ll do to her health” and-

And then Bailey just reached on in and pressed her fingers right up against the feral dog’s tailhole, forefinger and middle finger spread around the wrinkled pucker with one above and one below. She pressed in a little bit, squishing at the greasy folds; Ivy’s tail twitched and wagged a little bit more, and even from where he stood by the door Ian could see the way she flexed and clenched in response.

“You’re gonna be kissing,” and she did a little flourish with her other paw, only to poke a single finger right there at the center. Ivy clenched again. “Here.”

Beside her the mink groaned and sprawled back onto the beanbag chair where she sat. “And thank fucking God for that. It almost landed on me, and I was gonna tell her, look, last time was more than fucking enough-”

“And then you passed by.” This from Kara behind him. Ian stared; the wolfess leaned forward, arms crossed in front of her chest, fangs glittering. “And you’re not gonna deny the fates, are you?”

For a moment Ian didn’t know what to do. He looked from face to face, pointedly avoiding staring at the dog’s bared hind end again, and tried to reach for the door behind – then jumped when Kara caught his wrist, squeezed it, and tossed it back to him.

“Kiss the-” He wet his lips, frowned, blinked. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. But I’m not into-”

Bailey slid her fingers away from the feral’s tailhole, but kept her tail hiked by the base. “Dogs?” Then she shifted how she sat, once again leading to her nightdress slipping slightly down her shoulder. “Or… girls?”

I knew you would bring that up. I fucking knew it. I just- “Bailey, please-”

“I’m not into girls,” Lillian mused, “and I still did it. Again, that’s part of it.”

“Well, sure, but that’s-” Then suddenly there were strong paws on his shoulders from behind, and he looked over to see the wolfess’s muzzle smirking as she pushed him forward, and he could do nothing but follow. The mink nearby giggled and scooted back; Ivy’s wagging steadily picked up in pace and urgency as Ian was led closer, the feral glad to still be the apparent center of attention. “Wait. Wait, no, wait, wait-”

“Look, Ian.” Bailey nodded down at the waiting pucker, now flexing and tensing in a steady rhythm, the taut skin pulling slightly this way and that with each swing of her tail. “She wants it. She’s excited. She’s welcoming you in.”

“I, uh – I don’t think, I-” He tried to raise his paws in defense, not wanting to look, yet unable to pull himself away. “I don’t really – want to – uh-”

“Lillian,” Kara rumbled from behind him, “you wanna get his legs?”

The lioness scooted forward, grinned up at Ian, “sorry about this, but, y’know, not that sorry,” and then scooped an arm against his knees from behind, forcing his legs to buckle. He waved his arms out in an attempt to find support, and instead just allowed Bailey to catch one and Lillian the other: with Kara now holding him down by the shoulders, Lillian took his other arm as well and pulled them back so that he was forced to lean forward on his knees, coming closer and closer to the feral’s tailhole and jiggling spade. His sister watched him as he approached, her eyes flicking back and forth between his muzzle and Ivy’s rear.

“C’mon guys, this is – I don’t-”

“Do it,” chanted the mink. “Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it…”

Bit by bit Ian felt himself pushed closer and closer, the thick, dank heat radiating off the beast’s hind end growing stronger and stronger, the musky scent building as well. He wrinkled his nose, wrenched his eyes mostly shut, and tried to turn his head away as he was forced closer, but the paw between his ears kept him mostly steady. He grumbled deep in his throat, felt his broad ears flick and sway in protest, drew in a deep breath, held it as long as he could…

...and the girls fell silent in their chanting as he was finally forced to make contact, his lips pressed tightly together and now bunching up against the dog’s wrinkled, slick, slightly sticky tailhole. A little gasp issued from somewhere within the crowd; Ian worked his shoulders as he tried to free himself, then swallowed with his mouth still closed – and in front of him Ivy flexed the muscular ring, as though making a move to kiss him back.

That first touch almost made him gag, but then the paw on his head tightened and pushed him in deeper. He felt the skin and meat surrounding the dog’s tailhole squish with the pressure; Ivy’s tail wagged faster and she actually pressed back against him, hind legs straining a bit so that she could partially sit against the welcome presence underneath.

“Come on, Ian,” Kara growled, and forced his head in further. “Pucker up. The sooner you kiss her, the sooner you can go. Unless you like being down there?”

Oh God, he thought, and squeezed his legs tighter together. Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. Why am I-? This is… so fucking disgusting, but I’m…

Slowly, carefully, he sighed that held breath out between his lips, where he could feel it waft back around the dog’s tailhole and space and then curl back in across him. Then he drew in another, this time through his nose nestled right along the underside of Ivy’s lifted tail: there was that rich, hot scent again, wet dog and old dirt and the bittersweet stench that just had to be her. And he wiggled his head from one side to the other, dragging his lips across the obviously well-used ring of her tailhole, feeling the texture, the heat, the tacky grip, the trembling weight of the muscles just inside, tensing back against each of his movements. And he tightened himself down a bit, and squirmed against where the girls held his arms back and forced his head forward… and throbbed in his pants, just a little bit, maybe, and then finally relaxed his mouth, pursed his lips forward – and kissed the feral dog’s tailhole.

Just a little bit at first, just a quick, soft peck – but it was more than enough for her to feel his interest, tighten up, and then press back, once again puckering out like another pair of lips, that sticky warmth welling up from inside to fold out against him. Ian swallowed, reflexively licked his lips, and caught the exterior of her rim in doing so: behind him one of the girls gasped again, he couldn’t tell who, and then went on into a low, amused giggle. Eyes still wrenched shut, not wanting to see them or, God forbid, his own sister watching him do this, he tilted his head a little bit, met the protruding pucker in that warm, sticky kiss, then flicked his tongue out again…

...and again, and again, letting it curl around the rolls of slightly straining meat, the wrinkles of muscle, the overlapping folds of skin. Another sigh out from his parted lips, and this time he breathed slowly in through his mouth, drawing the dog’s scent and taste in to fill his maw, his throat, his lungs; they want me to make out with her, he recalled, the thought seeming foggy and distant, and so I’ll…

Ian leaned in closer so that now he could seal his lips around the feral’s pucker, and suckled softly. His tongue cupped up along the underside of her tailhole, right along the buried line of muscle that reached down to her plump spade below, jiggling with her pulse and her breathing, constantly wafting off a thick, intoxicating heat like steam that curled its fingers around his senses. Ian swallowed again, tasted that thick musk as it rolled down his throat, then swirled his tongue around, around, across, over – and finally teased at the center, nudging in until the dog tensed and clenched around it, then in again, and again. He felt his shoulders relax, and his legs spread around what had to be his own growing arousal; the wild dog sighed out from his nose, again feeling the heat of the dog’s rump trickled across his muzzle, and dug in deeper, deeper, so that he could fully suck at the feral’s hole as he tried to sleeve it around his tongue, feeling where the rough velvet of the exterior gave way to the smooth, sleek, slick wet silk of the interior, the swampy heat continuing to build up and swell out.

And then, suddenly, he realized he was no longer being held in. Ian’s eyes fluttered open, affording him an up-close view of the underside of the German shepherd’s tail where he could see her rhythmic flexing and tensing, and the ongoing wags that he felt pulling at his lips. He swallowed, then did so again to work down the combination of slime and drool that had gathered around his tongue, and drew himself back – then had to wipe his wrist across his mouth to break the clinging ropes of slightly discolored saliva that hung down, linking his mouth to Ivy’s rear.

He coughed, cleared his throat, swallowed again, then realized he could smell the dog’s rear on his own breath. Ian wiped his mouth again and looked from one face to the next, his embarrassment growing at the range of amused disgust, interest, concern, and disbelief visible there. Yet again he licked his lips, glanced over at Ivy’s wagging tail and slightly parted tailhole, and finally realized what it was he had just done. His heart leapt into his chest, pounding, pulsing; his head swam, his ears flicked, his face burned.

“Um.” He brought a paw to his muzzle to stifle a little cough. “There. I – I did what you… I’ll just… get up and head on out, and…”

But as soon as he started to move, he realized that that would be a very bad idea. Bailey had already picked it out as well: as his gaze shifted to his sister he saw her brows lift and her eyes drop, and she nodded down between his legs towards the twitching, throbbing arousal that he had tried so hard to ignore. It rubbed against the interior of his pants with each movement, tenting fully out, straining against the fabric; the wild dog crossed his legs again and then tried to cover himself with his paws, but another quick glance around the room showed that everyone else had already noticed as well.

“Oh my God,” murmured Kara, who had resumed her original position at his other side. “I wish I had my fucking camera on that…”

Then the mink: “Well, of course he got hard from making out with an asshole. He’s gay; isn’t that what they do?”

Bailey reached over and playfully nudged at the mustelid’s leg. “Hey. A nice ass is a nice ass. I bet if we made you do mine, you wouldn’t be complaining quite as much.”

She turned to the wild dog, looked her up and down, then pursed her lips and turned back to her phone. “Well,” she mused, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, huh?”

Then Lillian, shifting where she sat to reach for the bottle again. “Yeah. Wait and see. Gotta spin it again. I saw what that tongue was doing; I hope he gets to do mine next…”

Throughout all of this Ian couldn’t keep his eyes away from Ivy’s backside still offered to him: nobody held the dog in place, and yet the feral German shepherd still stood with her tail raised, spade hanging, flexed tailhole twitching and dribbling with saliva – with his drool. She looked back at him expectantly, in much the same way as she had done so many times before when he had gotten distracted while taking her for a walk. Yet again he reached up, wiped at his mouth, and then peered at the sticky globs that tracked across the fur of his wrist… and still he was hard, even amid all this talk, all this shame, all this embarrassment.

“No, no. We’re done with that.” Bailey reached forward for the bottle instead, batting Lillian’s paw away as she did so. For a moment a bit of the shame turned to relief, and Ian looked up at her; oh thank God, she’s coming to save me. We’re all done and I can go back to my room, and- “Whoever it lands on next,” she said, deliberately staring her brother in the face, “has to do Ivy’s pussy. I mean, look at her – you got her all worked up. She wants more. It’d be rude to just leave her hanging, wouldn’t it?”

The mink scoffed again. “God. I am not putting my mouth on that – fat slab of ham.”

Across the room, Kara’s ears perked and then folded back, and the wolfess tilted her head. “Hey,” she hissed, “you know half of us in here also have that fat slab of ham, right?”

The mustelid blinked, looked at her, looked over at Bailey, then back to the feral. She swallowed, stammered a bit, started to say something – and then the wild dog’s claws tapping along the bottle drew everyone’s attention.

“Oh. Oh, my.” Without looking down at the result, Bailey waited for her brother to notice. “Would you just look at that.”

He didn’t need to look, either, but still did. His sister’s paw rested lightly along the bottle where it lay sideways, pointing straight at him – at the tented arousal between his legs, twitching again with the revisit in attention. “Bailey…”

“Like we said.” She pulled herself up, brushed herself off, and then began to step around her brother. Her scent wafted down across him as she did so, warm and soft yet rich, so similar to his own yet so different – and with him sitting here on the ground, a stray glance revealed that, just like with a bra underneath her dress, she had also decided to forego the panties as well. “Can’t argue with the fates, right?”

“Bailey, what are you-”

“Come on, little brother.” Then suddenly her muzzle was next to his as she crouched down from behind, her chest pushing gently against his back. Bit by bit her arms made their way underneath his shoulders. “Just like old times, when you used to ask me to lift you up into the tree out back. Remember?”

“What are you-”

“One, two… three-” And on that count she suddenly hooked her arms around his and hoisted him upright, lifting him fully off the ground for a moment until his footpaws touched back down again. The breath puffed out from Ian’s chest, once again wafting with the bittersweet richness of feral dog rump; startled, Ivy in front of him jerked forward and stared back, yet still halfway showed her hind end.

“Wait, wait, wait – no, I don’t – I thought I was going to-”

His sister tightened her grip around him. “I did say,” she purred, her breath tickling his ear, “the next person has to do her.”

Again his heart did a flip – and, despite everything else going on, he strained in his pants. “Wait. I didn’t agree to-”

“You agreed the moment you walked in the door and sat down to play with us.” Bailey glanced around at her friends, her whiskers brushing across his cheek. “Someone hold him?”

“Guess that’s me, then.” Lillian pushed herself up from where she sat, briefly adjusted her clothing, and then stepped over towards Ian’s front where his sister still held him from behind. Soon the lioness’s paws came under his arms instead, and she leaned in to make a mocking kissing face at him – then recoiled just as quickly, her snout curling, her whiskers flicking, her ears twitching. “Oh, God. You smell like dog ass. I mean, I don’t know what I expected, but-”

“Well,” Ian complained, his ears going back as well, “if you hadn’t dragged me in here to-”

Then Bailey from behind him, her short claws teasing at the middle of his back: “Got him, Lil?”

“Yeah. I got him. He’s not squirming much but-”

“Oh, he will. Three, two…”

Ian turned his head. “What are you-” And then suddenly every muscle in his body tightened, all at once, as his sister slid her thumbs beneath the waistband of his pants and boxers underneath, hooked tight, and then yanked down. He felt the sensation of cloth dragging across short, smooth fur, the pull of the elastic, the stretch where it had held tight along his waist and hard cock – and then immediately after the slightly cooler touch of the air curling around him, the swing and bob of his shaft tugged down under his pants and then bouncing back up once free, and the slow curl of his sack back in towards his body beneath the coolness and the attention.

At first there was only silence. Then from somewhere behind him, his mind too empty, his heart thumping too loud, for him to put together who it was: “Oh my fucking God…” Flustered, starting to panic a bit, Ian shakily reached down to cover himself, both paws entwining to quite easily hide his full length – but Bailey, still kneeling behind him, squished her muzzle sideways against his rump and also quite easily drew his paws away from himself, her wrist brushing across his shaft as she did so.

Right here in front of him Lillian glanced down, looked back to his muzzle, then looked down again, frowned, and squinted. “Wait.” She leaned over to look at the other wild dog. “That’s all? Are you fucking serious?”

“Wait,” Ian croaked, “it’s – it’s not-”

“I almost…” The lioness reached down, then waggled her paw in the air. “Don’t wanna touch it. Holy shit.”

“Don’t be – so-” Ian swallowed, squirmed, and bit his lip, Bailey’s paw finally wrapping in around his length, his sister having to keep one finger stuck out around his diminutive length. She gave him one stroke, slowly, down towards his base, and in doing so had to lift another finger as well; first and middle fingers right there at the rim of his foreskin, the sleek hood easily drew back, well-slickened by dribbles of pre caught in the succulent folds inside, then forward again so that one of those globs welled up and rolled down across her fingers. “Ah – hah…”

Then the mink, beanbag chair rustling as she leaned over to struggle to find a better vantage: “Ah. I see. That’s why he’s gay.” Then the tapping of her claws across her phone screen. “Your brother takes it up the tail ‘cause he’s too fuckin’ small to get anything done himself, is that it?”

What is – happening, I… I was just… Ian bit his lip again as Bailey rolled his skin all the way forward, bunching it up over itself, squishing and rolling it between her forefinger and thumb. He couldn’t help but thrust into her paw, into his sister’s paw, right here in front of all of her friends from class, and knew that even that still would not be enough. When he looked down he saw how small he looked in her paw, how she had to keep at least one finger away from him, and how this did not change no matter how much he tried to thrust or throb. Was just… on my way to get a snack in between studying… exams are coming up, and now I’m… I’m…

“Is what it is,” Bailey cooed, her breath tickling at his bare rump. “We can’t all have it in the size department.” She scooped her other paw behind him and gave him a push from there, knocking him briefly into Lillian in front of him, who gasped and stepped away. This left the male wild dog stumbling forward around his own pants and then falling to the floor, getting all wrapped up in half-removed clothing – until his sister and one of her friends tugged them the rest of the way off, leaving him there on the floor, embarrassed, humiliated, fully hard. “You know what to do next, Ian. Or do you?”

He swallowed, moved as if to cover himself again, then stopped himself – and jerked his head to the side as a wet nose shoveled in along his cheek, sniffed at him, and then gave way to a loose tongue slopping across his fur.

Nearby, Kara threw her head back and laughed, the wolfess’s sharp fangs glittering. “See? She certainly knows. Ivy ain’t about to let you off the fuckin’ hook, small-fry.”

“That’s right, lover boy.” This from his sister again, who crawled forward towards him. Her dress once again fell partially away from her body, showing her hanging breasts, her flat chest and belly, and then the thicker, darker bush of pubic fur nestled between her legs, struggling to hide the mound of thick, supple pink meat of her spade, just like what he knew jiggled beneath the tail of the German shepherd here beside him. “Bottle landed on you. Anyone gonna record this?”

The mink waved her phone. “Already on it. I got you jerkin’ him off a bit, too. Kept your face out of frame.”

“Good. I’ll wanna see that later-”

“Me, too,” said Lillian, wiggling her fingers.

“But, yeah, Ian… stage is yours.” Bailey came forward far enough that she could reach forward, nudge the tip of one single finger down within the overhang of his wrinkled skin, and then tease him back and forth, pad sliding smoothly underneath with the coating of pre. “Someone wanna get the dog ready for my dear sweet brother here?”

“No,” Lillian said instantly. “I already held him so you could whip his dick out. That was gross enough. I think it might’ve – fucking touched me…”

When she looked to Kara the wolfess just shrugged, and then the mink pretended to be too wrapped up in her phone to notice. So Bailey heaved a theatrical sigh, slipped her finger back out of her brother’s foreskin, licked the gathered sticky wetness from the end, and hoisted herself up.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll do it.” Then she snapped and whistled. “Ivy. Ivy! Who’s a good girl? C’mon, come over here… let’s just get you… nice and turned around for little brother Ian, okay? Ivy…”

Now’s my chance, Ian thought, for a moment glancing back over his shoulder at the door. Bailey let him go to guide the dog into place instead; paws folded in front of his chest, pants around his ankles, still twitching fully hard in front of these strangers, he thought about it, considered it… and then instead took a half-step, another, towards the feral German shepherd here in the middle of the room. His sister had turned her back around so that her rear once again faced him, and on hearing his approaching footsteps the dog turned her head over her shoulder, lapped her chops, and then began wagging all over again, the puckered skin of her tailhole still glistening with his drool from before.

“Alright,” Bailey began, drawing his attention briefly back up. Not for long, though; she hoisted the dog’s tail with one paw, waved it around a bit to draw her brother’s gaze, and then reached down with her other… and fully squished the feral’s plump, hanging spade in her fingers, grasping from either side and squeezing forward, pressing the succulent meat against itself so that it squelched audibly. Ivy twitched and lifted up with the contact, her tail briefly pausing and then continuing its pace. “Now’s your time to shine, Ian. Show us all what you can do with…” She glanced down. “That.”

“Do I – really have-?”

“Do it,” the mink started chanting again, “do it, do it, do it…”

“W-well…” How in the world could I keep stalling this? And I… thought I’d be grossed out, but I’m… actually… The wild dog swallowed, wet his lips, and watched the way the feral’s plump, full sex jiggled with Bailey’s touch. Rich wet meat glistened glossy with natural slickness, those wide lips sticking to each other and then parting partially open to show sleek, silken velvet inside, the high, soft scent wafting off to lure him in closer… Ian set his jaw, reached down to angle himself closer, took a breath in preparation-

-and then someone behind him placed her paws on his lower back and pushed him forcefully forward. He yelped, gasped, and put his paws out, only for Bailey to catch him – and for his still-hard cock to nudge inside Ivy’s waiting spade, the dog immediately clenching around him, slick meat sleeving surprisingly snug.

“There you go,” his sister cooed, caressing his arms. “That’s a good boy. Keep going, Ian.”

“But I-” He scrunched his eyes shut. “I didn’t…”

And the paws at his waist continued pushing, teasing him in deeper… sinking him further and further into warm, squeezing depths, so slick and soft, wrapping deliciously around him. Every beat of the dog’s heart he could feel pulsing through her loins, clinging tight around him; each time she clenched, his body could do nothing but throb in turn, every nerve firing with intense delight, rim of his already-slickened foreskin rolling back further, sensitivity sparkling, tingling, sizzling.

This is… He swallowed again, gritted his teeth, and sank deeper, even deeper, until his waist nudged against her haunches. Holy fuck… oh my God… this…

With a sweet, slow exhalation of breath Ian sighed out, focused himself, and reached forward to grasp at the dog’s lower body. Ivy’s ongoing wagging felt so wonderful with him buried deep inside of her, the folds of flesh slurping and sucking around him; and at this point he was so far beyond belief that he could do nothing but give in and enjoy it, the sensations nearly overwhelming. He could feel the wetness of her arousal already soaking into his fur and dribbling down his sack, and with each throb he could already sense his own approaching peak there on the distance; gosh, I could cum just from… staying inside and squeezing like this, and…

“Holy fuck,” he heard Kara murmur from somewhere over one of his shoulders. The paws drifted away from his waist. “He’s actually doing it. He’s actually fucking doing it…”

“So fucking disgusting,” said the mink, leaning over to get a better angle. Ian gritted his teeth, dug his fingers into Ivy’s fur – this is my dog, the family dog, a fucking – dog… - and then slowly, carefully drew himself back. The feral’s spade sucked out around his shaft as he went, smearing him in glistening sticky wetness, then pulled free and audibly slurped around him. “Doesn’t this make him, like – a sexual criminal, of some kind?”

Around him the words all devolved into just noise. Ian bent forward over the dog, not even noticing his sister as she sat back to watch; he worked himself into a somewhat more comfortable position, legs bent, back arched, thrusting to bury inside of her and then drawing back again, loving the way her lips sucked around him, how she welcomed him inside, squeezed around, then pushed gently on his way out again.

“I… don’t think so,” Lillian mused, reclining where she sat so she, too, could get a better look. “Damn. He’s really going at it, though, with that tiny thing. Don’t all gays fuck dogs, though? Isn’t that kinda their thing?”

Holy fuck, was meanwhile all that Ian could think. Holy fuck, holy fuck… Bailey leaned in before him, chin resting on one paw, nightdress falling away to again show her cleavage and down across her belly. Her brother let his gaze wander there for a moment, then back down to the feral dog hunched over underneath him, Ivy’s head bowed and mouth open, tail wagging, the entire lower half of her body grinding back against him with each thrust forward. His paws shifted further down toward her haunches, finding a nice handhold there where her legs lifted away from her body; he grasped here there, pulled her back again, felt her squeeze and clench and slurp all the way down around him, and couldn’t help but arch his back and moan out into the room.

“Wait,” someone else in the room said – at this point he couldn’t tell who, “he’s actually liking it.”

“Not only that, but I think he’s…” One of the beanbag chairs shifted. “I think he’s getting close. Already?”

“Well, I mean, that’s usually how it goes. Small dick and short fuse… God fucking damn, Bailey, and to think I used to have a crush on him…”

Then to his surprise, a paw reached out from behind, pushed against his lower back to nudge him deeper inside the dog, and continued down to his rump. Firm fingers squished in along the plush squish of his rear, even as he continued fervently, awkwardly thrusting; the murmuring and giggles continued, pulling his radar-dish ears this way and that, and bit by bit that searing pressure continued to grow, higher and higher.

“Are you recording this?” “Of fucking course I am-” “His butt’s twitching! It’s kinda cute…” “Cute like that tiny dick of his?” “Hey, at least she’s liking it, and-”

And it built up, swelling within him like a balloon filled from a faucet. Ian gritted his teeth, sucked in a breath, felt it simmer back out in a low, hungry growl – and then he pounded forward, and did so again, and again, and for a moment thought he might black out from the way the world spun around him. His body moved all on its own, hips thrusting, abdomen tensing, as he pumped inside of the feral German shepherd: Ivy reflexively pressed back against him, lifting her hind end into his hips, clenching in rhythm with his spurts to coax him deeper.

It went on longer than he had expected, and by the time he had fully finished Ian was bent fully over the dog, arms wrapped around her chest, his own body shifting with her ongoing breathing and wagging. He struggled to lift himself up, heart pounding, every muscle in his body strained to exhaustion; then he moved back, pressed his hips to her haunches again, and carefully slid himself back out from inside… and shuddered again with the sleek, slick slurp of her feral’s full spade tugging along his now slickened shaft, rolling the sensitive skin forward, dumping out a thick glob of his own load as he went.

And then the girls around him burst out into giggles and murmurs all over again, this time encouraging him to struggle to get himself covered again.

“Wait. That’s all?” “God, I saw his – fucking little dick twitch…” “What’s that – fucking smell? Is that her pussy or his dick? Smells like… like someone wiped an old fish across a wet dog…”

Embarrassment flooding in, he looked across the still-wagging Ivy towards where Bailey now sat back again, apparently not caring that with her legs spread he could see right up her hem of her dress, towards where her own full, fat spade sat halfway buried among the thick ruff of her pubes, pink flesh glistening with the telltale wetness of simmering arousal.

“Can…” His throat was dry. Ian swallowed, then tasted feral dog tailhole all over again. Ashamed, he scooted away from Ivy underneath him – who just turned to look expectantly up at him, wanting more. “Can I go now? I did what you wanted, and I have… homework to do…”

The other wild dog appraised him from one head to the other. Bailey crossed her legs, bit her lip, and took her time in looking across all her friends as well, judging their expressions; then she sighed, stood up, and came over to her brother. Ian half-turned away from her, tensed as she moved to drop down in front of him, and then jerked as she yanked his pants and underwear back up his legs.

“Yeah,” she agreed, then smiled. “I think we’re done here. We’ve got girl stuff to do, and your nerdy ass needs to get back to studying. Can’t have both of us disappointing our parents, right?”

For a moment Ian didn’t know what to say. He blinked, looked from her to Ivy to the mink and then back, and then with one paw slowly started on his pants fly again. His half-hard shaft stuck and slid across the fabric of his underwear, and already he could feel the stains starting to soak through; I’m gonna smell like dog for days…

“What, j… just like that?”

He looked around the room, and then immediately regretted it. The mink was tapping through her phone, likely going through what she had just recorded; Kara was struggling to suppress her laughter behind her paw, but every time she looked at him, the wolfess snorted again; and then Lillian just plain couldn’t look at him, disgust warping her muzzle just before she glanced away again.

“Yeah,” the mink purred, “oh yeah, this is good. Got all of it on camera, Bailey. You fucking bet this is gonna be all over campus tomorrow…”

“Good. Send that to me.” The other wild dog knelt back down, motioning for Ivy to come towards her. The dog did so, tail wagging, spade dripping; Ian watched for a moment longer, the shame continuing to build up inside of him, and then had to force himself to turn away. “Well, Ian, what are you waiting for? Go on. Go get back to work.”

He looked around at all of them one more time. “Yeah,” he murmured, then buttoned his pants fly. “Yeah. Sure…”

~ ~ ~

Ian’s ears perked back towards a series of short knocks on his bedroom door. He lifted his head, blinked, then turned back to his work at hand; he had to focus on this equation to keep all the various pieces in mind, and then comparing it against the initial formula from his lecture notes – and then the knocks again, so he sighed, wrote down what he had so far, and halfway turned in his chair.

“Um. Come in. I guess.” The knob turned, the hinges squeaked a little bit, and when he saw Bailey’s muzzle poke in to the space of the threshold, Ian rolled his eyes, sighed again, and turned right back to his work. “What do you want now? Haven’t you done enough to me tonight?”

She said nothing, but one of his ears perked that way let him know that she was still there, still coming into his room, now slowly approaching. He glanced over his shoulder again to see her walking slowly, one arm at her side and the other across her body, her own ears splayed out a bit.

“That was really mean, what you guys did. Mean and gross and-” Ian swallowed, clenching his pencil so tight that his claws began to dig through the enameled wood. “-uncalled for. I really wish that I’d never-”

Then, though, the soft rustle of footpaws brushing across the carpet right behind his chair, and as he moved to turn again, one of Bailey’s paws slid in across his shoulder, pushed along the back of his neck, then continued in, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt, spreading down over his chest. She pushed her claws gently through his thick fur as she went, fingers splaying out; a shiver began deep inside of him and vibrated up and out, but his sister’s muzzle coming in along his other shoulder held him in place. Her breath wafted down across him, warm and soft, sweet.

“Sorry about them,” Bailey murmured, rubbing her paw back and forth across his chest. Ian swallowed, suddenly halfway between very uncomfortable – his sister had never done this sort of thing to him before – and vaguely turned on, despite the circumstances. “They get a bit rowdy, and I do kinda play into it, and I… thought that, y’know… maybe you were liking it. A little bit.”

His throat felt dry. Homework forgotten, Ian swallowed, stuttered, and dropped his pencil. “I-I… I mean, well, I, um…”

Bailey scoffed, the puff of breath from her nose tickling his whiskers. “I felt you twitch, y’know. When I was… touching you, after getting your pants off, and they were… saying that you were…”

Ian jerked his head away. “I know. I remember.”

“So I just thought that, maybe you were…”

“It’s – it’s just that, um…” Why am I bothering to explain this? “I thought it was… kind of, y’know, really-”

Her paw tightened along his chest, pulling him back against the chair. “Don’t worry. I know. I think the did, too; they’re all a little bit… fucked up, y’know?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t see how closely Lillian was watching you when you and Ivy were… you know, did you?” And after you left she was staring, and I could tell she wanted to try, so when we spun the bottle again…” Bailey shrugged. “I let it fall on her, and she had her turn. And she pretended to be disgusted by it, but we all knew.”

“She…”

“And Kara eats ass like she just spent forty days in the desert. I learned that myself just before coming to see you now, and – that was actually why Ivy got involved in the first place, but then you walked by, so...”

It was so, so hard for him not to lift up underneath her touch, or to grab her wrist and guide her down further, but Ian figured that she could already tell the effect her presence was having on him. What in the world is wrong with me? he thought, heart thumping, breath shallow; first the dog, now my own sister… why now? Why tonight? Why all at once? Why don’t I…

But then as if in response to these thoughts, Bailey’s paw and muzzle drew back away from him – and left him with an odd sense of loss, already missing the contact. Trying not to look too eager, Ian waited a moment, tried to catch his breath, then turned in his chair to face her again, where the other wild dog took a step and a half back. She met his eyes, blinked, then glanced away; that can’t be embarrassment, he thought, not after everything she put me through tonight. Her tail swayed, her ears twitched, and she reached down in front of herself, fingers curling around the hem of her nightdress halfway to her knees – and then, still without looking at him, lifted it up, up past her legs, her thighs, her waist.

The ridge of the fabric caught the protruding rim of her plump, full spade, briefly pulling the succulent meat upwards to nestle deeper into the thick bush of her wiry pubes, before it jiggled free again. Sweet, rich pink glistened and glimmered in the light from Ian’s desk lamp, snugged halfway within the dense puff surrounding it, rising out from her otherwise smooth, soft fur. For a moment she said nothing, and Ian didn’t know what to say. But then his sister cleared her throat.

“I know you’re…” She wavered. “I know you’re gay, and I don’t want to push those boundaries any more than I already have, but… you can… take a turn on mine. If you want. As…” Then she glanced at him again, blushed, and looked away once more. “As compensation. Or in apology, I guess. Just – just make it quick.”

This can’t be happening. Ian swallowed again, throat dry. He was unable to tear his gaze away; Bailey’s certainly looked bigger than Ivy’s, hanging a little heavier, glistening a little more wetly, and just thinking about how much of it remained hidden within that curly bush… This can’t be happening. What in the…

“But…” She waited for him to look up at her muzzle again. The other wild dog smirked. “Not as quick as on Ivy.”