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She hadn't been thinking clearly.

Then again, it wasn't like the 17-year-old cattle dog hybrid bitch could do much of that anyway.

She never wondered why her parents named her Marcus. But it didn't take long for her to run with it. She quickly became a tomboy, always preferring action figures to dolls, boyshorts to panties, and boys to girls for friends and play.

She knew she was a female, but as she grew up, she grew a preference for pretending to be a guy. Keeping intensely fit allowed her to maintain small breasts after she blossomed, small enough to perpetuate her gender-queernees. In high school, she was able to use the boys' lockers, but she never dared to try to do sports in school. She kept fit elsewise. Nobody was the wiser: teachers, friends male and female, nobody ever gave any hint that she was anything but one of the guys.

None of that mattered on this particular night, late in the summer before her senior year.

She was in heat.

Feeling it come on, she had to cancel her plans, claiming sickness. Her parents hastily left town, leaving their beachfront house alone to her.

That evening, the sensations were particularly bad. Marcus was laying back in her bed, a paw jammed between her legs, roughly jilling her pussy, her fingerpads rubbing behind her clit. In the bottom shelf of her nightstand to her left was a canine dildo, something she once secretly bought with a fake ID.

Tonight, it remained shut away. She couldn't use it. She couldn't even bear to look at it.

It only made her think of him.

And she was scared of the idea of ruining the most awesome friendship in her life with thoughts of romance. Particularly since she was convinced he thought she was a male.

Marcus turned the stereo up a little bit and rolled on her knees, finger-fucking herself doggystyle, bucking backward onto each dig into her sweltering pussy. She had opened the window to try to cool down, but it was so hot outside it didn't help at all.

She wasn't thinking when she did it. Now she was faced away from the open window.

She never noticed a brief but rough commotion just outside her window.

Her moans and the music kept her from hearing someone go through the window and close it.

For her, nothing was amiss until a subtle weight shift on her mattress was followed by one arm around her waist, the other sweeping under her to trip up her other arm and put her face in the mattress. Her paw was overwhelmed when a surge forward drove something between her fingers and deep into her pussy.

Marcus gasped. It all happened so fast. But before the information added up to equate to rape, she put together some variables. The black and brown fur of the arm that took her down. A very familiar masculine scent filling the now-closed bedroom, mingling with her fertile odor.

She turned her head just enough to look up at her assailant as his hips proceed to rock.

Instead of spinning under him and driving a footpaw into his balls, she pulled her long tail aside, tilted her ass up and drove it back, hilting the Rottweiler inside her.

It was her best friend, Kitch. Her frequent classmate since Kindergarten, they grew up together, and were always best buds. Her relationship had grown so tight with him, she was deathly afraid of ruining it with romantic thoughts, even though seeing him naked so frequently in the locker room turned her on so much. It made her feel ashamed that she seemingly kept her true gender from him.

Now, Kitch was rocking his hips back and forth behind her, smoothly but eagerly pumping his whole length through her sweltering passage. She felt the very instrument that so conflicted her emotions, instinct dictating her response and clouding her judgment completely. A mix that was working to change things between them forever, whether she was ready for it or not.

Marcus shifted her elbows under her and laid her head to the side on them, panting and moaning shamelessly as her music cycled through. Kitch would occasionally let his rhythm move with the music, not yet drunk enough on her pheromones to go singularly toward breeding her. Those large testicles of his slapped on her mons, making her softer flesh jostle on her chest.

The Rottweiler suddenly flopped on the cattle dog's back, his somewhat plump belly pressing into the small of her back. He was giving in, his hips now shoving swiftly, her best friend barely jabbing his pointy tip against her cervix. His thickness, especially as his knot popped in and out past her labia, made her thank the spirits that her dildo claimed her physical virginity long ago.

Beyond that point, both canines allowed instinct to take over, neither one saying a thing, only communicating with ecstatic moans, grunts, huffs and growls. The young stud's forearms tugged Marcus's flanks back into each urgent thrust, his knot popping harder as it plumped further. Neither one thought of the full gravity of their situation, or the previous (public) lack of romance between them prior to that night.

Suddenly, Kitch yelped, his knot mushrooming inside and getting stuck where it belonged. Marcus's feral-shaped cuntlips held on possessively to his knot, her tunnel milking as he humped vigorously against their tie, panting desparately. It wasn't long before his balls began to pull in tightly.

The male arching above the female, his tip planted firmly against her cervix.

His penis surging very stiffly, then beginning to jump inside her.

*twitch* *gush*

*twitch* *gush*

*twitch* *gush*

"FUCK!!!!"

Suddenly, Marcus's eyes widened, and she blurted out that expletive.

The warmly soothing contact of Kitch's potent semen against the richly-lined inner flesh of her uterus eased her instinct after a few seconds, with a series of major revelations. Not the least of which was the fact that a male was cumming inside her bareback, and she wasn't on the pill.

Far slower on the uptake, Kitch was goofily panting over her right shoulder, gushing more of his thick cum inside his best friend's fertile womb.

Marcus was not stupid, and realized there was nothing she could do now that her friend was tied inside her. So she just rose up on her forepaws and moaned loudly with the shift, feeling his shaft quiver, jumping occasionally again as his orgasm waned, but never entirely.

She listened to a few songs, and the two quietly nuzzled on occasion, not yet sure what to say to each other. When his knot came down, Marcus pulled slightly up and slid her friend out of her pussy. He did a good job seeding her--it would be a while before her pussy would ooze his cum.

Marcus rolled under him on her back. He was still panting stupidly above her, drooling on her soft tits.

She cuffed him.

Startled out of his stupor, Kitch grabbed his muzzle."Ow! What the fuck was that?"

Marcus snarled up at him. "That was for sneaking into my bedroom and fucking me without a fucking condom, asshole."

She then grabbed the Rottweiler's scruff and yanked him down atop herself, kissing his lips. Kitch quickly got with it, and buried his long tongue in Marcus's mouth. The two snogged for an indeterminate length of time they both forgot.

Marcus nibbled up Kitch's muzzle to his left ear, growling playfully up to him. "So... did you know before tonight?"

He nibbled back on one of her ears, a paw sliding under her back and grabbing her ass reflexively. "mmmm.. Yeah. Just thought ya didn't want that kind of relationship."

Kitch snuck another deep kiss on his best friend, wrestling tongues for a while longer. With her lingering pheromones, eventually he was hard again. Marcus grinned and grabbed his shaft, teasing his tip to her still-swollen vulva.

He blushed above her. "mmmm, ya sure you wanna keep tempting fate?"

Marcus bared her fangs. "You already did your damage, fucker. Might as well enjoy it." With that, Kitch pushed between her spread thighs and buried back inside, making Marcus moan in ecstasy.

As his hips began to move, Kitch huffed, and looked down at her. "ahhhh...fuck... What's next?"

Marcus briefly bit her lip, muffling a cry of ecstasy. "Shit..." Her legs wrapped around his thick hips, ankles over his rump. "...we'll talk if I miss a period..."