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Human Bitches

Chapter Seven: The Good Dog

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

That word, it always comes up. You know the word: bitch. What a word. I've heard it used all sorts of ways, and the meaning is never the same. Among humans, it's usually a derogatory term, the counterpart to women calling men "bastard," but only roughly, since it's a word with so much deeper meaning. It's a word meant to designate women as both sexually demanding and also sexually inhibited, made exceptionally unpleasant (to say the least) because of the disconnect between what they need and what they'll allow. It's also used to describe dominant women, the ones who push men around, who act bossy and dominant like alpha males, shoving their femininity aside as though it were a source of weakness, and instead taking up the worst features of dominant men to replace what they've lost.

Then there's how it's used to describe men. A male bitch is a guy that's been emasculated, disempowered, reduced to a state of womanly weakness. He's the submissive in a relationship, pushed and held down, unable to rise because of his lack of masculine strength. Passive-aggressiveness is the only danger that a male in this state can achieve, the meager strength of the omega. Among hard homosexuals or sadomasochists, it's not such a bad term, but among most hard straight men, it's usually considered one of the lowest states to which another man can sink.

That's for humans, though. For morphs, things are a little different. If you've ever listened in on a few morphmales talking about bitches, you might get offended at first, at least if you're a female, or a male with some sensitivity towards the feelings of women. Not too surprising, considering the human context I've just described, despite all efforts by humans to reclaim the term to mean something else. For morphs, though, the term is used mostly by canomorphs, the ones based on the various canid species, though it does see some use among other morphs, especially in cross-species relationships. To canomorphs, a bitch is a female who will let you have sex with her, or sometimes one who you'd like to have sex with if she'll have you. It also carries the connotation of a female who's willing to carry your children, which implies an intense degree of trust on the part of the female, meaning that this female is likely to do just about anything that you might want, or let you do just about anything you might want to her. That's about it, actually; there's no significant other meaning, at least with the relations between males and females. It means about the same when it's used by males to describe other males, though with more emphasis on dominance.

For some reason, a reason I just cannot wrap my head around, a great many humans, males and females alike, seem to think that people who love sex are somehow lessened by the enjoyment they take in the act, that it's somehow degrading and wrong to have sex at all, and an even worse sin to actually enjoy it when you do happen to have it. So, among many humans, even if you use the definition we morphs use for the word "bitch," it would still be derogatory in the typical human mindset, like being called a slut, except worse, since sluts often have some control over their relationships, while a good bitch has surrendered control in exchange for trust.

For morphs, though, it's anything but a mean term. You see, morphs have some mental controls so deeply ingrained into us, they're down on an instinctual level. One of those controls is that, if a female doesn't want us males to mate with her, we just can't. We'd lose our erection just from taking her scent of revulsion, disgust, fear, pain, simple disinterest, or whatever else. This isn't something that a morphfemme can fake: either she's interested or she's not, and if she's not, sex isn't going to happen. So, if a morphfemme is actually interested in having sex, a willing bitch as canomorphs would call her, that's not a bad thing at all. Quite the reverse: it's a compliment, an intensely erotic term that has a strong tendency to turn on any morph who gets to use it or have it applied. It's such an intense turn-on, actually, that you can almost always tell how aroused a morph is by watching for if and when he (and sometimes she) uses the word "bitch" to describe a partner. Once the word gets used, it means that mating is going to happen, and it is going to be hot, heavy, and rough. Little did I realize it then, but I was going to get really intimate with that word in the very near future, and have it applied to objects of affection that I'd never considered before.

I'm Dallas, and I'm Spike's friend. We're old war buddies, and we'd been through a lot of the same crap that filled the world at the collapse of civilization as people knew it then, and the rise of civilization as people know it now. With so few human males to take up the military slack with the worldwide Y-killer retrovirus (YKR, or 'whyker,' for short) epidemic, we morphs were desperately needed as a military presence, and our production, which had formerly been fairly low-level and almost as frequently for wealthy civilians as for the military, suddenly swung into overdrive, with the military machines of any nation that could afford facilities to make us pumping out thousands of morphs for use on the battlefield. Those times were a bloody mess, and I still don't know quite how to talk about some of the things that I had to do just to survive on the field of battle. I don't really feel regret for most of what I've done, since I never did anything without making sure either my mind or my instincts felt right about it first, but I do admit that I regret being in combat in the first place. I also regret killing people, humans and morphs. There's no guilt involved, not really...but there is regret.

Spike and me, though, we go way back. He was my first field unit's sergeant, actually, and he carried us through several human lieutenants of varying degrees of competence (since only humans could be officers). If it weren't for Spike, I'd have died more times than I have fingers, toes, and vestigial nipples. We've even been lovers when there weren't any females around, and I'm one of the few males that Spike's allowed to mount him, and he was one of the few that I've allowed to mount me, because we trusted each other enough not to think less of the other for receiving, and enjoying, anal sex.

When he got moved back to the States to train the next generation of morphs, I took over as unit sergeant. They say I did all right, and though morphs don't get medals for their service, I did get a few oral commendations from human officers, something only a few morphs can boast about. These translated into letters of recommendation for me after I got out, an honorable discharge when morphs were deemed too controversial to retain in the United States military (and incidentally crippling what remained of said military). With that kind of support, it was pretty easy for me to work my way through police academy and end up on a beat patrolling morphtown, keeping the peace in those places that humans vacated when the morphs moved in. They say I might make sergeant by the end of the year, as long as I keep my nose clean. Spike, well, he almost ended up dead on the killblocks after he punched out his commanding officer - a human, but a nasty piece of work - to keep the bastard from raping one of the younger canomorph trainees. It wasn't all that fair from our perspective, with Spike ending up on the morph equivalent of death row, while the human colonel just got a hasty and quiet shuffling into honorable discharge and early retirement, but there's not much a morph can do about the way the system works; times are tough all over.

Still, I guess it worked out all right. The former full bird went into politics right after he got out of the military, I hear, and while that sounds like a dangerous thing, judging from what I've read in the papers, he's had his schemes nipped off on every corner by his opponents, so there's not much danger left in that toothless muttscum, as far as I'm concerned. Knowing people like him, he'll probably eventually wander off somewhere alone after he's been suitably whipped and humiliated, then blow his brains out like any thoroughly disgraced and dishonored military man should, as part of the warrior values that make some believe only death can cleanse your sins. He'll probably use a service Colt to do it, too, and it still won't do the evil bastard a bit of good once he meets whatever judgment there might be waiting on the other side, no matter how things might get spun down here.

Spike, on the other hand, is out and fine, thanks to Angel Lords' intervention, raising public interest and awareness of the killblocks, and of morphs in general. His junkyard is actually a part of my daily patrol, and we usually spend my days off together, just hanging out, doing some martial arts and other physical stuff, shooting the breeze, and generally having fun. Sometimes a few other morphs on the police force or in the neighborhood join us, the ones that served with Spike and me, and our closest friends. After all, Spike hasn't lost any of his edge, and he's still a better fighter than any of us. If you knew a martial arts master, one of the best in the world, and were good enough friends with him to get him to train you, wouldn't you jump at the chance? That's how me and the other boys and girls felt about the situation. So, as a general rule, Sundays were the days when we came over for lessons, though Spike would change that based on when I had to work - he never had a training session unless I was able to attend. I'm the one that came up with the idea of turning his empty back lot into a workout area, and me and the others that Spike knows are pretty much free to come and go as we please on that back lot, using it whenever we want to as an easy place to work out without interruption or distraction. We all keep tossing a few bucks into the gym pot every payday, and then adding in an hour or two every weekend to getting things set up right, and it's added up pretty quickly over the few years Spike's had his junkyard. These days, he's got a shocking amount of workout equipment, all of it free access to the neighborhood, just as long as you get Spike's permission first, and take care of the stuff you use after training. Yet another reason (genetics being the big one, of course) why you don't see many fat morphs in these parts.

Sunday training, actually, was the reason I pulled myself out of my warm bed, as much as I hated to do it on my one fairly consistent day off. Working as long hours as I usually do, I haven't really had time to find a mate for myself, and I'm not sure I'd be a good one anyway, as stressed out as I sometimes get on the force. I got close a couple times, and I haven't completely struck out with a few fine females, but I'd have to focus more on them than my career to land a permanent mate, so none of those relationships have gotten farther than a handful of dates and a few hot nights in bed, each of us trying out the other to see how well we mesh without really committing to anything. Since morphfemmes know when they're fertile, and so do we morphmales, thanks to our heightened senses, sex is a lot more casual for us than it is for humans. It's when a female wants you to mate with her while she's fertile that things get serious. Since I wasn't sharing my apartment with anyone at the time, though (and hadn't for what felt like far too long), it didn't take me long to hit the shower and get dressed in t-shirt and tan slacks. Actually, I was just finishing cinching my belt when I heard my cell ringing, and reached down to where I'd left it on the nightstand to answer the incoming message. Huh, it was Spike. Wonder what was so important that he couldn't wait for me to show up at his place in a couple hours?

"Dallas? Spike."

"Yeah," I said into the phone with a smirk. "I gathered that. You're the only guy not on the force that knows this number. What's up? You know I'm going to be there pretty soon."

"Yeah, that's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about," Spike continued, and I could hear the slightly sheepish shuffle of his feet and posture of his body just from the tone of his voice. "I'm not sure if I oughta have training today."

"Skipping a training session?" I said with a frown. "Spike, morphs don't get sick, and the only reason I can think of for you to cancel training would be if you were on death's door. What's going on?"

"It's...I've gotta confess something," Spike said, before I heard the rustle of toeclaws on carpet as he went into another room, then a click, followed by more rustling. "Check your inbox. Picture's worth a thousand words."

Blinking, I pulled the phone away from my ear and tapped on my inbox. The moment the image Spike had just shot loaded up, my jaw dropped, my eyes wide open.

"Spike, is this real?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm coming over right now."

I glanced again at my phone as I broke the connection, blinking in that dazed state that comes from a shock so great, it just blows out all the thinking parts of your mind. There on Spike's bed was Girl, lying with her cute spaniel face towards the camera, an even cuter little smile on her muzzle as she slept. But what knocked out all my faculties was where Girl was resting her chin: a human girl's naked shoulder, her smooth, pink-skinned, naked back clearly visible, along with the dimples of Venus at the top of her pert, small buttocks. Just a short distance from where Girl was resting her chin, I could see a collar, the ultimate mark of ownership among morphs. On Girl's other side I could just make out the upthrust, perfect breasts of a trimly-muscled colliemorph I didn't recognize, lying on her back, her mouth open, her tongue lolling out as she also stayed fast asleep, her pink nipples perked in the cooler air as they weren't covered by the blankets. Presumably this morphgirl belonged to the human lying closest to the camera, who I judged from the slimness of her hips had to still be in highschool, as she was obviously still in the later throes of puberty. Mature enough that statutory rape wouldn't be an issue, I'd guess, though sexual relations between humans and morphs was still a heavy grey area in the lawbooks. At least I wouldn't have to bring my best friend down to the station, but still, Spike mating with a human girl...I just hoped she hadn't been in season; or if she was, that he'd been wearing a condom.

Oh who was I kidding? Spike never wore a condom.

Fast as I could, I grabbed my keys and headed down to my car. This was going to take some serious talking time to work out.

*

Store-bought protein drinks never taste as good as the ones I make myself. I guess it's 'cause most of 'em, maybe all of 'em, are made for humans, not morphs. Since I didn't want to wake up the girls in the bedroom with the noise of a blender, though, I just tore off the tab of one of the cans of fruity crap I keep around for occasions like this and let it slide down my throat in small sips, doing my best to take it slow, letting the nutrients filter into my body all the way, while balancing the needs of my body against the needs of my tastebuds, doing all I could not to let the nasty stuff linger on my tongue more'n a few seconds at any time.

We morphmales are built different from our females, just like all morphs are built different from humans. In the 'enlightened' society of today, a female is supposed to be able to fit into any role she wants, and I can't say I disagree with that part - it's maybe the only part of our present society that really is enlightened, whatever that means. I like proactive females, the sort that'll let you know if you're doing something wrong, or who'll smack you around if you're being stupid and deserve it. Still, all morphs are strongly defined by their sex roles. In other words, we're made for making babies, our manufacturer's way of ensuring the perpetuation of the product. In practical terms, this means a lot more'n you'd think. Sure, a healthy morphmale can keep on mating through a dozen orgasms on a good day without much loss of sperm count or sexual interest, but that's nothing compared to what a morphfemme has to go through just to give birth to a single baby. It stands to reason: the female reproductive anatomy's a lot bigger'n that of the male in pretty much any vertebrate species you'd care to name, so it takes up a lot more of the energy needs of a female.

Now factor in one of the two secondary function of a morph: fighting. Sure, we're not in much use right now by most first-world militaries on account of recent controversies, but the truth remains: we were designed as soldiers, mass-produced and ready to jump into a scrap while we're still wet from being decanted. What this means is that, whatever combat-oriented parts of our base animal's instincts and nature might have existed before, it's been exaggerated to a crazy degree. Stealth, strength, speed, these'n more are just natural to us morphs. Which brings me back to one thing that makes us morphmales different from morphfemmes: we don't need much sleep. A morphfemme needs as much rest as a human, maybe a little less, and she's not gonna be as combat-oriented in her physique, just because her makers kept reproduction as their first goal when making us, while fighting ability was their first goal when making the males of the species. That's not to say that a morphfemme couldn't kick just about any human femme's butt in a fight, or the butts of most human males for that matter, but it's still a big factor that differentiates males from females among morphs. Me, for example, I don't really need more'n six hours of sleep, and that's just when I'm really tired from a hard day's work, and feel like sleeping in, like I did on Friday after the fights. Most days, though, I can get by just fine on three or four hours. Makes sense to me, though, since morphfemmes are expected to birth babies, while we morphmales are expected to protect 'em, protection and service being the other secondary function of morphs - it's why we've got such a low crime rate despite our violent impulses.

All that's the long way of saying I didn't expect either Girl or Benny to be up for a few more hours at least, Rachel a while after that, while I was having breakfast at 3 a.m., before most people were even starting to think about waking up on a weekend. Morning workout'd start in three hours, unless I called it off, which wouldn't be that hard, since the males in the training group would be waking up at this time almost for sure, and the females, fewer in number though they might be, were the sort that tended to wake up pretty early anyway, still sticking to military time for their daily schedules. It'd probably be as easy for me to get in touch with 'em all as it was for me to reach Dallas.

Dallas worked hard every day, regularly putting in double shifts, since most jobs that accepted morphs eventually figured it out about our dedication to duty and lack of need for sleep, and the laws about paying morphs overtime weren't especially regulated, so he needed a good six hours sleep most days, but on account of all his hard work, when he wanted a day off, he could get it. Sunday was that one day a week that he didn't let nobody touch, and he always spent his mornings over at my place, first in the workout, and then hanging around afterward with me'n Girl. It'd gotten to be a habit, actually, one of those pleasant rituals that make life a little more sane. About half the time, we'd spend a good part of the day nailing Girl, or whoever Girl arranged for us to enjoy instead, in case she wasn't feeling very interactive and just wanted to watch. It was pretty normal for me to share whatever bitch I was training and breeding at the time with Dallas, same as I shared 'em with Girl, except he wasn't allowed to do 'em in their pussies; after all, I was being paid for breeding services, so it'd be kinda like stealing from my employers, even if Dallas' genes are at least as good as mine. Any girl that Girl brought in, though, was fair game all around. Other days, we'd go'n do something fun, maybe take in a movie or go to the beach, or something else that'd take up our day and help Dallas to unwind some of the tight coil his constant work left inside of him. Sometimes we'd be joined by other morphs, either for the sex or for the outings, but that was always kinda irregular. Dallas, me, and Girl were the only constants.

Dallas, being the upstanding guy he is, is about as constant as they come. Even before I'd called him up, I knew what he was gonna say. First of all, he'd wanna know how it all got started, and how I was doing, let me let off some steam, do most of the talking while he'd just listen. Then he'd start asking some questions, most of 'em open-ended, to get me thinking, and to make sure he understood what I was thinking. Finally, he'd maybe offer some advice if I seemed to need it, and then we'd probably cap it off by getting in a quickie before the rest of the day got going. I kinda owed Dallas a blowjob after the last time we had one of these heart-to-hearts, and I had to admit, I was kinda looking forward to the feel of that smooth pink morphcock in my muzzle, and even the salty, thick taste of his cum, while I watched that shep's handsome face when he came. Dallas had those open, honest good looks that just make you wanna trust him, and I'm just glad that his looks go pretty well with the true-blue boy scout sort of guy he really was. It always felt a little sinful, really, whenever I had him doing 'things' with me, sort of like I was corrupting him, even when he was the one who started things. I guess it's the same sort of thrill that an adulterer feels, fooling around with someone who's promised to another. If that was the case, though, then Dallas was married to his job, and I was his back-door man.

More out of habit than anything else, I went outside and set out the mats and striking dummies we'd need for today's workout. Really, I wanted to have today's training session, same as always, 'cause it meant a point of stability, something ordinary and regular and normal in a life that had quite suddenly gotten really strange. I'd have to see what Dallas thought before I made my final decision, though. Right now, considering that I was the guy in the middle of this mess, I knew I wasn't gonna be any sort of objective, no matter how much I tried. I needed a second opinion.

I'd not only finished setting things up, I'd also gotten to fixing a few things that needed it, and had even managed to do a little work with the bulldozer in the back lot of the junkyard, far enough from the house that it probably wouldn't wake anybody inside, when I saw headlights up by the front gate. Hopping down from the bulldozer, I was there in less'n a minute to pound the entry button, while Dallas idled there quietly, knowing I'd be there when I could, not making any more noise'n necessary so as not to wake up the femmes inside. I kinda swallowed, and if I'd had more'n a stub of a tail I knew it'd tuck between my legs, just like my ears woulda turned down a whole lot more'n they did if they hadn't been docked shortly after decanting, to make 'em smaller targets in combat. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but I just couldn't help myself: old instincts die hard, and even though I'd told myself that I'd made my peace with it, that I wasn't doing anything wrong, I still couldn't get away from the feeling that I'd been a bad dog, sunk in good and deep by the subliminal training they gave me while my brain was developing in vitro. It's not hardwired into me like a lot of things are, but it's really close, and it's not something that you just get over in a weekend's time. As my friend got out of the car, I couldn't even meet his eyes. All I could do was stare down at my naked paws, and wait.

*

Oh Spike, what have you gotten yourself into this time? I've never seen you so vulnerable-looking, just standing there, naked, and unable to look me in the eyes. You're not the sort of guy to ever be vulnerable, especially not when naked.

If the subliminal training all us first gens had been through worked the way it was supposed to, he shouldn't have even been able to get himself into this situation in the first place; he just wouldn't have recognized human females as anything more than the master race, the ones we were supposed to protect and serve. That's what the official word on the subject says, anyway. The truth, though, is all that stuff gets kind of mixed up as a morph spends time in real-life situations, outside the safe confines of the lab where the testing of the psychological blocks was conducted. It might take years before they go out in the case of domestic, 'kept' morphs, maybe even their whole lives. Or they might blow out all at once, like Spike and I both saw happen to far too many morphs in the field of battle, when they were called upon to kill humans and their brains just broke from the strain in a variety of ways, most of them pretty horrific. For most of us, though, the conditioning fades in the face of reality, reason and instinct eventually winning out against the rigid rules stuffed into our heads like a finger in the dike of psychological domination.

Spike had always been a maverick among the morphs, charismatic and confident and tough, a true alpha male, the sort you'd want to lead a charge against the enemy, but that any sensible commander would want to throw in the brig the rest of the time to ensure that the troops weren't following Spike instead of the human commander. It made sense that he'd break out of his conditioning before most of us, as he demonstrated when he punched out his commanding officer and ended up on the killblock. Still, it's one thing to hit someone like Colonel Hedgeway - actually, just hitting a guy like that, when every instinct would be screaming to tear out his throat, could be termed incredible self-control - and quite another to have sex with a human. And even then, if it was just sex, well, it could happen to anybody; I mean, mistakes happen, it's something that's fun for all persons involved, and we morphs are pretty highly-keyed toward that sort of thing anyway. Now, if she was ovulating at the time, that's an entirely different set of problems. For starters, it means that Spike was trying to fill the role of our human masters. I can't even begin to describe how much of a Bad Thing that would be.

"You want to just stand out here and talk," I began with a gentle smile, my tail wagging a little, "or are you going to invite me inside?"

Spike chuckled, looking up at me at last.

"C'mon," he said, walking toward his smallish house. "Let's get inside so we can talk this over. You had breakfast?"

"No, I haven't, not yet anyway," I added, following after Spike, smiling a little wider now that his body language and scent indicated he was relaxing. "As long as it's not one of those awful protein drinks you always have."

"Huh?" said Spike, looking over his shoulder, just barely missing the look I had been giving his toned, white-furred butt as he walked. "Hey, the human-made ones might be crap, but the ones I make're good, Dallas."

"You believe what you want, Spike," I added with a laugh, reaching up to strip off my shirt as I entered his front door, knowing how Spike felt about clothing in the house. "But if you've got any steak and eggs, I'll gladly trade places with you on that blowjob you owe me."

"First you insult my health drinks," snorted Spike in mock indignation as he turned and walked into the kitchen while I shucked off my pants and followed after, "and now you wanna take away a major alternative protein source. I dunno, Dallas, I kinda think you're tryin' to make me all scrawny and weak like you."

"Who's scrawny?" I challenged and playfully tackled Spike, my shoulder hitting him straight in his rock-hard stomach as he turned to meet my charge, and we both went tumbling to the ground. After a few moments of rolling around, he reached down and grabbed my balls, giving them just enough of a squeeze to make me yelp in surprise before we rolled apart, and I gave him an answering smack to his tautly-muscled buns in revenge.

"Jerk," I said with a laugh. "You never fight fair."

"Who's the guy that tried to rape me from behind?" answered Spike, folding his arms authoritatively before his broad chest, before he reached one hand back down between my legs, and began to gently fondle my sac where he'd squeezed, making me hiss as I drew in my breath from the nice way his paws always felt on my body. "You're just a bundle of tension waiting to burst, Dallas," he said in a deep, suggestive rumble.

It took an effort of willpower to push Spike's hand away after he started to rub my swollen sheath, coaxing my still-soft member to flop out like the free-hanging penis of a human. I shook my head when Spike gave me a questioning look, and motioned with my muzzle toward his stove.

"You were making me breakfast, Spike," I reminded him. "And while you did that, you were going to tell me all about whatever happened last night."

"All weekend, actually," admitted Spike with a sigh as he turned and pulled the steak out of the freezer and the eggs from the fridge, then pulled on an apron from a nearby peg on the wall, tying it around his waist to keep his bits from getting sizzled by any stray grease spatters. "It's...kinda a long story."

"We've got the time," I replied, glancing at the wall clock. It was a little past four, which meant we had a little less than two hours before anyone was due to show up. "Start at the beginning, and work your way until this morning, when you called me."

So he did, and he didn't hold anything back. I watched his body language as the cute pit bull who was my best friend talked, reading those moments when he wanted to alter the truth as light flickers of tension on his upper back, then watching when they quickly faded as he plowed ahead - we morphs aren't any good at lying to each other, after all, and we're not much better at lying to humans. It was a little after four-thirty when he finished, and I'd seated myself at the kitchen table somewhere during the time he'd been talking, hoping he didn't notice my erection: it would seriously hurt my credibility when I tried to give him some advice on what to do next.

"So you've got one girl, Rachael McMichaels, the girl in your bed right now, probably pregnant, and have another one, Bridgette 'Bird' Phelps, who wants you to do the same to her as soon as she's in season," I summed up. "Besides that, you think Girl's got plans for even more sex with humans, because she wants to adopt their babies, and you like that idea. Is that about it?"

"In a nutshell, yeah," admitted Spike as he set the steak and eggs in front of me, the steak done just the way I liked them - Spike was a good cook when it came to making meat, though the eggs were always just a little bit off, this time slightly too rubbery. "I'm pretty sure Bird's gonna show up today as well for our workout, 'cept she doesn't know there'll be other morphs there, all of us naked." Spike winced, looking out the window as he rubbed his chin self-consciously. "I dunno. This just seems like all sorts of disaster waiting to happen, Dallas. I don't wanna break up anything with Bird: I like her, and I like having sex with her, too. But I also don't wanna break up our group. Bird didn't have a cell phone with her any of the times she came by, and I don't have her number anyway, so I can't get her to not show up, or give her any warning."

"Too bad you didn't think of this yesterday," I said with a sympathetic nod between bites, making sure to swallow down some of the milk he'd poured to go with my breakfast. "We might have been able to work something else out."

"Yeah," agreed Spike with a sigh. "I, uh, kinda got busy," he admitted with a grin over his shoulder at me, which I returned before tucking back into the steak and eggs, being careful to cut them into small pieces, eating with care to make sure I didn't get my fur greasy. "But you know about that. It's just...what'll she think, showing up here with a buncha naked morphs all over the place? I don't want her to get scared or get the wrong idea or anything."

"You want my advice?" I said, leaning back a little to give him a searching gaze. "If you'd asked me before all this started, I'd have recommended not getting started at all. But it sounds like all the humans that have gotten involved with you and Girl have ended up where they are very willingly. I think, if this Bird is going to get serious with you, she might as well see you when you're around your friends. We're all pretty responsible adults, so she won't be in any danger, and you and I both know nothing will happen that she doesn't allow."

"But what'll the others think?" said Spike, wincing again at the thought. "I mean, it's only been a little while since this sort of thing was even legal, and even without that, it's not something we morphs are supposed to do..."

"If they're your friends," I said with a shrug, "really your friends, they'll accept you whatever you do. You know that. Everybody in our group is somebody that we've had to trust with our lives at some point. You've saved the lives of a lot of them, just like you've saved mine, and many of us have returned the favor. They might not like the thought of you having sex with humans, but it's not like you're a rapist, or have done bestiality, whatever some humans might think. These girls can make their own choices, and they knew pretty well what they were getting into before they started. You even told me that you told Miss McMichaels..."

"What did Spike tell me?" asked a sleepy voice from the other side of the bead-chain-covered doorway, before a small hand brushed it open, and a slim, red-headed figure stepped into the kitchen.

Of course, I did try to say something else, but right then, my muzzle didn't want to work anymore.

*

Rachael McMichaels had never been able to sleep very well in an unfamiliar bed. It was just one of those things that had stuck with her since infancy, when she always needed things to be just right before she could settle down and go to sleep in her crib. This wasn't actually a bad thing most of the time, as it turned out, since it meant that, when she was much younger, Miss Benny could usually get Rachael to sleep without problems, relying on setting rather than people, specifically Rachael's mother, Rebecca McMichaels, who was pretty much always busy elsewhere. Not as much when she was sharing a bed with three morphs, one of whom had slipped away, leaving a little gap.

When Rachael had woken up about fifteen minutes ago, the first questions that had come to her sleep-befuddled mind were, in order: why am I so warm? Where are my clothes? How did I get in this strange bed? Why is my bottom so sore? The answers came flooding back in as soon as Rachael looked to her shoulder, where Girl was resting her soft-furred chin, and almost immediately afterward Rachael felt a pleasantly arousing warmth start to flood through her slim young body, before her small hands went to her stomach, stroking its smooth, flat surface, and then to the collar that fit so nicely around her neck. The thought of being owned by Spike, of being his willing slave and of having his puppies in her belly, forced Rachael to have to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from whimpering as her snug but still rather flushed slit began to flood with her juices.

For a moment Rachael considered masturbating, but then she glanced at the other females on the bed, and decided she didn't want to wake them: they looked too peaceful and cute for her to disturb. Very carefully, then, Rachael disentangled herself from Girl's soft, warm embrace, resisting the urge to molest the two adorable sleeping morphgirls only with an act of will; they just looked so vulnerable as they were, all splayed out and sexy, it was almost as hard as fighting the impulse to rub a sleeping dog or cat's belly when they were splayed out on their backs. Instead, once she was out of the bed, she gently covered the two sleeping morphgirls with the blanket, and started toward the bedroom door.

It was when she reached the curtain-covered doorframe that Rachael's ears picked up the sound of voices coming from a nearby room, along with the good smells of cooking steak and eggs. Spike had a visitor! Daring to creep out, careful not to step too heavily on the carpeted floorboards so as not to make them squeak, Rachael risked a quick peek into the room where she heard the voices coming from. Her eyes immediately widened as she saw Spike cooking up steak and eggs on the stove of the kitchen (for so the room was), while not far off, sitting at the small table, was an absolutely gorgeous German Shepherd morph. Rachael wasn't really paying much attention to what Spike was saying, her eyes instead focusing on the fawn-furred male's sexy butt and Spike's own cute buns as he cooked while wearing nothing but an apron. Craning her head slightly, Rachael could see that the new morph, obviously a friend of Spike's judging from how they were acting around each other, their body language telling the whole story better than words, was sporting a more-than-sizable erection. This discovery made Rachael's heart speed up, even as she wondered to herself if all morphmales were hung like porn stars.

Ever since Bird had shared that video of what she's done with Spike, something had been building up inside of the normally shy and reserved Rachael McMichaels. All her life, she'd always been dismissed as "the quiet one," the carrot-topped girl who hung out at the back of the class and didn't dare to talk much. This wasn't so much from her choice, as much because Rachael just didn't know how to reach out to others, the lack of closeness with her mother having transferred over into the rest of her relationships, leading her to fear closeness, even while she craved it. She was friends with Bird and Yoko and Shania and a few others because they'd always looked past her quietness and took her into their group anyway, accepting her in spite of her shyness. Now Rachael had an entirely new sort of world opened up before her, the world of raw and primal passion that Spike represented. It had been weighing on Rachael heavily ever since she'd seen Bird and Benny making out on screen, had seen Spike bury his immense pink penis in Bird's cunny. Then, when she'd been there in the flesh, been an active part of that world, drawn in by Spike's gentle hands on her body, his words in her ears as he coaxed her to dominate Benny, Rachael had felt herself hesitate, like a diver on the high board, staring down at an impossible-seeming gulf...before she flung herself forward freely, willingly, eagerly...completely. Now the shy and quiet girl at the back of the class was contemplating further perversion, letting herself become utterly engulfed in the fantasy. There weren't any limits here, not for her, and she wasn't going to hold herself back any more. Not when she'd learned that Spike accepted her for what she really was, or really wanted to be, deep down inside.

Finally Rachael tuned in to what Spike was saying, to what it was that was making the handsome German Shepherd so very aroused. Oh my...it was...it was everything about yesterday! And unless Rachael missed her guess, Spike had already gone over what had happened with Bird before. She could see that the new morphmale was trying to hide his erection beneath the table, probably because, as everyone knew, it was supposed to be wrong for humans and morphs to have sex. He was probably Spike's good friend, who'd just come over to hear the pit bull let out all his problems, only to learn they were a lot sexier than he'd thought they'd be. Rachael, like many quiet ones, could be very observant, and she could pick out so many details like these and more when she put her mind to it.

The thought of movies she'd seen online where a girl was sandwiched between two guys flashed strongly in Rachael's mind, and she almost walked into the kitchen right then and there to offer to serve her master and his friend like any good slavegirl should. But then she stopped herself: what if this new male got scared off by such slutty behavior? What if he didn't want to have sex with a human, however much it might arouse him to hear about it? The thought of possibly being turned down sent a momentary cold chill into the pit of Rachael's stomach: rejection like that would break the fantasy apart, letting all her old shyness come crashing back into place with a vengeance, and leaving her feeling worthless besides. No, she wasn't going to risk that. Better to take a more subtle approach.

Sparing a few minutes to slip back into the bedroom, Rachael grabbed the first halfway sensible bit of clothing she could find, one of Spike's white t-shirts, hanging over a chair by the dresser, and slipped it on over her head. On Spike, these shirts would be nicely stretched out, showing off his powerful physique without hindering his movements too much, and sometimes even exposing a bit of his hard stomach. On Rachael, the shirt didn't fit quite right on her slender shoulders, always leaving one of them exposed, and she could feel a breeze on her bottom where the shirt didn't quite cover her nethers. Of course, this made the carrot-topped teen feel terribly exposed. Then again, it meant that she'd found what she could call a happy medium: if the new male wasn't interested in being a part of her fantasy, then she could just laugh it off, since she had some clothes on at least, and wasn't just throwing herself at him like some trollop on the streets. On the other hand, if he was interested, she'd be able to send him a pretty clear invitation to let him know she wasn't unwilling at all; all she'd have to do is bend over and wiggle.

Her strategy all planned out, Rachael started back toward the kitchen. She heard the two talking, and smiled as she heard the sweetly sexy voice of the German Shepherd morph. It wasn't like the throaty growl of Spike's voice, but rather a lighter baritone, and very easy on the ears to say the least. It was the sort of voice that was perfect for whispering sweet nothings in your ear, a stark contrast to the bestial tones of Spike's voice, which seemed far better suited to telling you straight-out what he was going to do to you, and how much you were going to enjoy it. Just as she was nearing the beaded curtain, Rachael heard the German Shepherd say her name, and that seemed like as good a sign as any for her to forge ahead into the erotic unknown.

"These girls can make their own choices, and they knew pretty well what they were getting into before they started," came the sweet voice of the handsome German Shepherd to his friend, Spike. "You even told me that you told Miss McMichaels..."

"What did Spike tell me?" said Rachael, stepping into the room, catching the eyes of the new male, and then deliberately letting her eyes stray downward, to what he was trying to keep concealed from Spike. The blush that colored her cheeks was anything but an affectation as she shyly turned away, walking instead towards Spike as he stood near the stove, reaching forward to give him a hug. "Who's your friend, Spike?" she asked with a shy smile over her shoulder.

*

I'd told myself I was ready for this, that I wasn't the sort to ever give into temptation. All my life, I've been above reproach, never even entertaining something like the wicked thoughts that were now flooding my mind. I'm a good dog!

Now, though, as the slip of a girl walked past me, her eyes so knowing as they played down my naked body to my most vulnerable places, her face at once innocent and yet fully aware of the great secret of carnal pleasure as she blushed and yet didn't look away, my eyes couldn't turn away from her no matter how hard I tried. When she finally did turn her body to walk to Spike, I followed the slim curve of her back vaguely outlined by the oversized white wifebeater she was wearing, all the way down to the barely-visible gluteal crease of her pert buttocks, glimpsed in little flashes with the hypnotic sway of her hips. Then she bent forward slightly, wrapping her arms around Spike's waist, and I suddenly could only barely hear her asking Spike who I was, so rapt was my attention on the perfect pink treasures presented before me, lightly dusted in a healthy ginger muff. It had been almost a full week since I'd last had any sort of sexual contact outside of a few sessions with Rosie Palms between my shifts at work. As the smell of a female, young, healthy, aroused, and so very in-season, filled my nostrils, I realized that it had been far too long. I should never have let myself get into this desperate state, where I was almost beyond all points of reason. My instincts only knew that a willing female was standing there, presented before me; they didn't care about her species or social taboo, only about the needs of a male to fulfill the needs of a female.

"Rachael," said Spike, as much to her as to me. "Meet Dallas. He's one of my buddies from back when we were both military morphs." He grinned toothily down at her, and then reached down, both his huge paws gripping her pert, tight little tushie, squeezing it, rolling it, and then spreading it apart, while the human girl, Rachael, made the cutest little noises of first surprise and then arousal before she looked shyly over her shoulder at me. "Dallas, meet Rachael. She's the owner of Benny," he paused a moment, leaning over to kiss Rachael on the cheek. "And the girl who shared my bed last night."

It was as I was looking at Rachael's cute face, so full of trepidation, obviously hoping that I wouldn't condemn her for what she'd done, but instead eager for my approval, that I realized I was staring. No, staring would have just been a social faux pas. I was outright drooling as my senses were flooded with the sight and scent of a ready and willing female. I was staring at her bare little quim like some stray dog would a piece of juicy meat. My senses were telling me that, while she had the obvious scent of another male on her (Spike's scent, of course), she was still "fresh," her womb unfilled. This made sense, of course: she'd only been bred yesterday and last night, and it generally took at least forty-eight hours, give or take, before a female's scent would change to reflect her new state, if she'd actually been impregnated. It wasn't a sure thing by any means, after all, not even for morphsperm - the process of making babies was always a chancy thing, no matter the species.

Forcing my eyes to her face, and nowhere else, I half-opened my muzzle, trying to think of something to say, something that would somehow convey that I would, of course, support Rachael's choice, and Spike's as well, and wished them every happiness, even though, of course, what they were doing wasn't something that I would ever do. Of course I was a good dog, and good dog's never gave into temptation. The best dogs never felt it at all, so of course the feelings I was having must just be a passing event, nothing for me to worry about...

"Rach," Spike growled in Rachael's ear, gripping her hips easily in his big paws, "it's bad manners to leave a houseguest with a hardon. Go and show Dallas what a good little hostess you are."

As he spoke, my red-eyed friend turned the hot, skinny human teen toward me, and then gave her a gentle nudge forward, patting her bottom encouragingly. She briefly glanced back at Spike, her eyes growing wide with the implications of what he'd told her to do. Then her face quickly turned back to look at mine, before they dropped to my rock-hard erection, and she bit her lower lip with a soft whimper, her arousal flooding my senses right along with her aching ripeness. Body and mind, this young hottie wasn't just ready for making babies: she was eager! And she pretty obviously wanted to make them with me.

I'd pushed out my chair from the table when Rachael had first come into the kitchen, a reaction to being startled by her appearance, and this had left me so very exposed, my pink penis at full-mast and bobbing slightly with the movements of my stomach as I breathed. The oversized shirt she was wearing having ridden up when she was in Spike's grip, the orange-haired girl's snug navel and flat belly were bared to my view, along with everything below them, and as she knelt between my legs, her face flushed and eager as she openly admired my cock, I could pretty easily see the cute little heart-shape of her skinny buns. Her skin was smooth, clear, and it was obvious from her scent as well as from looking her over that she was healthy, truly choice breeding stock. Those were my instincts talking, along with the last remaining rational part of my brain. That little part of me also reminded me that this female was supposed to be off-limits, and if she put my penis into her.... Then Rachael popped the head of my cock into her mouth, and that mental voice quickly died in obscurity.

Gently kneading my lighter-furred sac in her hands, her sweet green eyes watching my face with such a hot expression, so eager-to-please, so vulnerable and obviously hoping that she was doing it right, I couldn't do anything else except watch her, my hands clenching and unclenching before they finally just grabbed the legs of the chair beneath me. That tight grip was all that kept me from bucking my hips, and likely choking little Rachael, when she hollowed out her cheeks and started to bob her head, humming to herself as her own arousal began to flood the room. Several times, I felt her throat constrict around my swollen glans as the tip of my cock kissed the back of her tongue, leaking precum all along her tastebuds. Her tiny-looking hands rested on my thighs, and those eyes continued to watch me, seeking my approval of her efforts. Idly, I had to wonder how I tasted to her, and what it was like, kneeling there, looking up at me as she gave me pleasure. I had some idea, since I'd been in that situation for Spike more than a few times, but to actually be able to experience things from the perspective of someone actually giving me pleasure was just too much to hope for.

*

He was delicious. It wasn't just the taste of the beautiful German Shepherd morph's copious precum, which was sort of like a thick cream-based soup in flavor, or that wonderful masculine scent that seemed ready to overwhelm her senses at any moment. There was also the absolutely wonderful texture of his thick, smooth length as Rachael tightened her mouth around Dallas' shaft, her tongue lovingly caressing the blood-swollen bump that ran along the underside of the handsome male's penis. Rachael remembered that it was called the corpus spongiosum from her copious reading on the subject of sex from the sadly-limited collection of such books at her highschool, and that it was filled with powerful heartblood to get the tube of the urethra ready to carry a male's load of sperm-rich semen. Semen filled with strong, healthy morphsperm. Morphsperm intended for making babies...inside of her. The thought of being taken and ravished by this beautiful male was enough to make Rachael's eyes roll back into her head, her eyelids closing, with the last thing she'd seen Dallas' handsome face as he struggled desperately in the throes of pleasure, his jaw tight, his expression so sexy as he was obviously still trying to be a good dog, to not move his hips and maybe hurt her. But Rachael didn't want the beautiful male to be nice to her: she deserved to taken and used like the slutty little slavegirl she was and, as she realized with a sensation of sweet release, had always wanted to be, but never had the courage before.

Spike's paw on Rachael's shoulder snapped her back to reality, though it did nothing to diminish the nearly insane level of arousal the carrot-topped teen was feeling right then. His hands stroked down her skinny body, then over her flat tummy, and down the bump of her lightly-furred pubis, slowly but firmly caressing her soaking wet cunny.

"Cum for me," growled the sexily-scary pit bull in Rachael's ear, before his fingers parted her labia, driving deep into her before curling up, squeezing down on that extra-sensitive space between her vagina and her pubic bone...before he started to pump his hand good and hard and fast. Rachael's whole world exploded in flashes of white light as she very literally gushed her juices from the raw intensity of the orgasm that hit her like a physical blow. Her entire body seized up, going on automatic as she started to buck and gyrate, her mouth tightening up as her head bobbed at a desperate pace, her scream muffled by the wonderfully thick penis plugging her throat. As the white light slowly shattered into sparks and flashes across her vision, Rachael was only dimly aware of Dallas' startled bark of orgasm, his clawtips digging gouges into the legs and underside of the chair as he held on as though for dear life. Instead, her throat convulsed, and she instinctively gulped down the almost overwhelmingly copious load of cum Dallas shared with her. If she hadn't been on automatic, Rachael would surely have choked herself and spilled some of the precious seed. As it was, however, she just gulped harder, swallowing down every drop in the throes of her own fantastic orgasm.

"...got about a fifty-fifty chance of knocking you up," Spike was telling her as he helped Rachael get to her feet, her mind slowly coming back to her. Shuddering as Spike's hands stroked up her body, rolling the shirt she was wearing until it bunched up just above her pert breasts, which he then began to stroke and then to caress, her little nipples as hard as bb's under his fingers, Rachael suddenly realized what Spike was telling her, even as he realized he was slowly walking her forward, positioning her over that beautiful big penis. She could end up pregnant by Dallas as easily as she could by Spike! That thought was enough to drive the human girl almost insane with arousal, a feeling that only grew stronger as Dallas' strong, gentle paws gripped her hips, his expression still adorably dazed from his recent orgasm as he leaned his muzzle forward, Spike's fingers moving out of the way as the German Shepherd started to lick Rachael's breasts with his long, wonderfully smooth tongue, before he started to suckle on her nipples, turning his head slightly every few minutes to ensure both breasts got equal time.

"W-wait!" Rachael gasped out as she felt herself lowered down by Spike's and Dallas' strong, loving hands on her body, her shoulders and hips, until she felt her soaking wet cunny lips just barely starting to part around Dallas' swollen gland. "Wait, please, I don't want to choose; I want both of youuuuuuooooOOOOH!"

"Greedy little thing," chuckled Spike as Rachael's words were lost in the throes of her passionate cries as she slid smoothly, easily down Dallas' big, beautiful cock, until she could feel his soft-furred balls pressed against her perky bottom. "So you want it all, huh, Rach?" He licked her back slowly, starting just above her dimples of Venus, all the way up her clearly-defined spine to the base of her neck, making Rachael shiver and squirm on Dallas' wonderfully fulfilling penis. "Be careful what you wish for, cute stuff."

For just a moment, Rachael wondered what Spike could mean. Then she looked down, watching as his hands touched Dallas' shoulders, and gently tugged a little. Dallas could read his friend's body language almost perfectly, even in the throes of such exquisite pleasure, and though his face registered a brief look of concern, he also trusted his friend completely, and slowly rose to his feet, his strong, gentle hands lifting Rachael's legs, wrapping them around his hips, while his palms went to the backs of her thighs, holding her up against his firm, masculine body. Rachael hung there, confused, for only a moment more, before she felt Spike's big hands gripping her sweet little buns, then the thick, blunt tip of his cockhead prodding at her already well-stretched quim. Surely he couldn't mean to...? But he did, as Rachael's own eyes confirmed for her as she glanced over at the reflection of the scene on the silver surface of the stove, watching as Spike and Dallas together lifted her up, while Spike arched his hips underneath her bottom, his cock pointing almost straight up, before the two morphmales lowered her down, nice and slow. Spike's glans caught for a moment on Rachael's tiny anal bud, and for a moment she thought that he might doublestuff her there instead. But no, he shifted his hips slightly, and his cockhead caught next on the scant span where Dallas' big dogcock didn't quite fill her completely to the brim. Rachael cried out loudly, though whether in pleasure or sheer sensation - or both! - she wasn't quite sure as both big dogs pressed their bodies together, their cocks squeezing firmly against each other, swollen sacs slightly deforming as they touched so closely. For a moment, Spike's cock started to bend, and Rachael's whole world seemed to consist of the sensation of stretching to what she'd always thought were impossible limits. Then, with what Rachael was sure in her dazed state had to be an audible pop, Spike's cock suddenly straightened out once more, squeezing its way into her quivering cunny.

Instantly Rachael started to sink down on the two rampant pricks now filling her to the very brim of her existence, her entire body starting to spasm almost uncontrollably. Shuddering, jerking, and then outright thrashing between the two gorgeous, powerful, big-cocked males, Rachael felt herself growing drunk on endorphins, more full than she'd thought could ever be possible. She was cumming, she knew, could feel herself orgasm again and again and again, but the raw, primal intensity of those orgasms was so much, it was almost like an out-of-body experience, and she was looking down on her body like a spectator, watching this sexy, skinny, orange-haired girl's whole body shudder like a bowl of gelatin in an earthquake as she was driven almost out of her mind by the raw, explosive power of the pleasure now coursing through her.

Then Dallas lay back on the cool stone countertop, Spike lying on top of him, using his greater body control to guide his friend's movements, with Rachael snugly sandwiched in between, and she felt herself almost roughly snapped back into her body once more at the weight of reality that this new position brought upon her.

"It's so good," she got out, her voice tiny, tense, knowing she was smiling like a fool and not caring one bit, not as long as it kept feeling as good as it did right then. Of course, it didn't keep feeling that good: it just got better.

After giving Rachael only a matter of seconds to adjust to the new position, letting her brain catch up with her body, Spike gripped her hips firmly, while Dallas took hold of her smooth pink bottom, his clawtips leaving tiny red trails on her delicate skin as he used his strong hands to brace her against what was surely to come next, and incidentally spreading her buns apart in the process, lewdly showing off her anus as it pulsed in the midst of each shudder of pleasure. Then, with a harsh, throaty grunt, Spike drove his hips forward, and Rachael saw his arms tense, his teeth bared and tightly grit, as he squeezed himself into Rachael's impossibly-stretched tightness. Her eyes turned down to Dallas' face as Spike began to pull back, the force of his movements matching the upward thrust of the German Shepherd's hips to ensure that the skinny teen was filled up just as much as she was emptied, never once losing that sensation of mind-blowing fullness. Spike's hips plunged forward again, while Dallas' penis pulled back when Rachael slid up the gorgeous fawn-furred male's body, then pulled back as she was once again filled by Dallas. Dallas' handsome face was almost angelic, Rachael thought, as his muzzle parted, his back arching, when Spike started to pick up his pace, his hips slapping Rachael's tushie loudly, wetly, turning her cheeks nice and red and so very sensitive as he began to give her the truly bestial humping she needed. Dallas' hunching hips beneath her gave Rachael no less an intense sensation as the pair showed her no mercy - she didn't want any! - and no respite from the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her completely.

It was as though Rachael's entire world was now filled with the loud sounds of wet slapping of fur-on-flesh as she drenched both Spike's and Dallas' balls and bellies with her copious juices, forced out of her at a high-speed squirt from the power of the next orgasm to wrench her body and soul to their very roots. The two powerful, wonderful males using her as the filling in their sandwich snarled and grunted and bared their sharp teeth like animals, and Rachael desperately wished that she could explore their beautiful male bodies with her hands. She could only just barely hold on right then, though, her little fingers balled into fists as she clung to Dallas' chest, her pert breasts bouncing forward and back just as her bottom also bounced with each slapping impact of Spike's hips against her eagerly presented butt. This feeling...this was what she'd always wanted, all her life. It was the feeling of the most ultimate fulfillment, of being lovingly ravished, allowing herself to surrender herself utterly to these two males, trusting them, letting them do with her as they pleased. She was theirs, a willing slave whose only purpose in life was to give pleasure to her master and his friends, for by giving pleasure, she would also receive it in equal or even greater measure.

Suddenly, with a loud snarl from Spike above her and an equally loud moan from Dallas beneath her, Rachael felt her trim breasts mashed against the German Shepherd's chest, her skinny buns compressing against Spike's hips as the two truly sandwiched her between them, their huge paws roaming all of her body that was not pressed against their furry, muscular frames. This sudden and total loss of her ability to move, while the two males continued to grind their hips as they once again stretched her wide with both their cocks at the same time was the last straw for Rachael. Her mouth opened as she pressed her chin against Dallas' firm chest, no sound coming out, at least not at first, from the sheer intensity of the feelings rushing through her young body. Then, a fraction of an instant later, Rachael felt the powerful, potent gush of both males filling her at the same time with their cum. And she'd thought that Spike and Dallas produced a lot of cum on their own! As her inner walls started to convulse violently, eager to accept as much sperm as possible and draw it upward, toward the egg surely waiting in her fallopian tubes, Rachael could hold back no longer, and screamed with all her might, thrashing and kicking with her legs and flailing with her arms as she seemed to lose total control of her body. Then, when the two morphmales' powerful hands gripped her, holding her still only with an effort, before their hips started to move once more, working to milk out every last drop of their cum, Rachael had a clear mental image flash before her of herself, on her knees, stroking her hands over her heavily gravid belly and milk-leaking breasts, eagerly wagging her smooth little bottom as she was petted by her master and praised for being such a good, obedient dog. The image of who her master was, however, wasn't so clear in her mind...not that it mattered, in the end, for a moment later, Rachael's strength failed her, and she slumped against Dallas, resting her full weight on his chest and belly, breathing hard as she closed her eyes, her whole body flushed and twitching slightly as she felt the two gorgeous males continuing to move, continuing to fill her receptive womb with their potent seed.

*

Ngh. Now that...that was satisfying! I slowly straightened up behind Rachael, my hands going to the pert mounds of her bottom, squeezing and stroking her there slowly, gently, letting her cool down as I gradually worked my hips back, not wanting to spend more than one orgasm in her just yet. Maybe later I'd make her squirm some more, but for now, I wanted to save some of my lust for the events of the day. It helped me be a better instructor if I'd let off a little steam, but not enough to make me go all relaxed and completely loose. That little bit of extra tension really did wonders for my combat performance. Besides those reasons, of course, Bird was probably going to be by later that day, and it wouldn't be right of me to use up all my cum on Rachael, not when Bird, Benny, and maybe Girl and Dallas and some others in our little group might want some of my attention in that way. An image of the sexy vixen Red's swaying rump, the motion enhanced by the sway of her tail, came unbidden to my mind, and I had to forcibly steel my will to force it out, my stomach tightening as I gradually, with great effort, made my cock squeeze itself back into my sheath.

Looking down, I saw Dallas going through the same sort of tension, his teeth gritting as he concentrated...and then jerked his hips slightly, making his cock pop free of Rachael's clinging cunny, letting a huge flow of our mingled juices leak out. Closing his eyes, his face visibly relaxed as the hot shep's dick slid back into its sheath.

"Guess I'll have to take a rain check on that blowjob I owe ya," I told the other male with a grin, gently lifting Rachael off of him and letting her lie cradled in my arms like a baby.

"...yeah," Dallas admitted, his eyes still closed, his breathing slowly getting back under control. Then his eyes opened once more, and he glanced at the clock. "Only forty-five minutes before the others show up."

"Mistress Rachael?" came a worried voice, and I turned to look at Miss Benny as she pushed past the bead curtain and into the kitchen, her eyes surveying the scene in a heartbeat. Seeing her mistress lying in my arms, the colliegirl leaned forward, sniffing at Rachael's head and face, then letting her muzzle stroke down the human girl's smooth body, until she nudged lightly at Rachael's heavily-flushed, cum-leaking cunny, taking a brief, experimental lick that made the poor, overwrought carrot-topped cutie moan slightly in her pleasured half-daze. Then, deciding her young mistress wasn't in any danger, Benny looked at Dallas, leaning over to sniff at his exposed crotch, and then down a little to beneath his tail. He watched this calmly, since it wasn't that unusual a way for morphs of many sorts to greet each other when we're in private, though he gave a light chuckle and gently pushed her head away when she started to nuzzle at his tailhole a little more forcefully, apparently intending to start rimming him out.

"You must be Benny," said Dallas as he carefully rose to his feet, heaving a long, satisfied sigh as he stroked his ruffled fur back into place. "I've, uh, met your mistress," he added, his ears turning down, fine whiskers spreading out, and tail tucking down in canine embarrassment.

"It's not a big shock for us morphfemmes," Benny answered with a grin of her own. "You males have all those heavy controls put into place to keep you off the human girls. We morphfemmes, though, we've got almost nothing put in place." She snorted with amusement. "Guess those human males that worked on us were hoping to get a piece of tail however they could."

"Even if it meant literally," I chimed in with a laugh, before I held out Rachael to Benny, letting the colliemorph gently hold her mistress, cuddling the girl against her trim, soft-furred breasts. "Benny, you an' Girl should take Rachael into the bedroom and show her how much you love her. Rachael may be your mistress, Benny, but Girl's the alpha female in this house, so you just do whatever she wants."

"Yes master...and mistress," answered Benny, looking first and me, and then past me, to where Girl was standing, holding the bead parted with one hand while she looked in on us.

"Hello Dallas," she greeted the German Shepherd with a happy smile and wag of her tail. "Glad to see you here." Then she looked at Benny, nodding once, and holding the curtain parted so that Benny could step out of the kitchen once more. "We'll keep Miss Rachael occupied until the morning workout is over," she told me in a softer voice, before she followed after Benny, heading back toward the bedroom.

"I," started Dallas, before he had to clear his throat, looking down at his paws as sheepishly as I'd done just earlier that morning, "I guess we'll have the workout, same as usual."

"Yeah," I said, then reached over and patted my friend on the shoulder. "Kinda addictive, isn't it?" I asked him, to which Dallas nodded.

"I've never felt anything so intense," Dallas said in a hushed voice. "I may not be a heavy breeder like you, Spike, but I'm registered First Gen breeding stock, and I'm no stranger to sex. But sex with a human..." he shook his head, "that just blew my mind."

"It feels even more right than it does wrong," I added with a nod, which Dallas answered with a nod in kind. "Like letting the goblins out of Pandora's box: there's no putting 'em back in. Guess we just hafta deal with these feelings as best as we can."

"I've got to go," said Dallas suddenly, before he stepped past me, patting my shoulder as he went. "Slade and Gregor are expecting me to give them a ride, and you know how that tigerguy hates walking."

"It's a wonder that Gregor puts up with police work at all," I responded with a grin, giving Dallas a final pat on his naked, furry back before I let him go, pulling on his clothes before he headed back out to his car, with me following a short distance behind.

"I don't know how I'm gonna explain this to the guys," Dallas said finally before he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. "But this much I do know: maybe what we did was wrong, but I don't have any regrets."