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"It's not because I don't love you enough, Eric."

The Dalmatian stopped in the middle of cutting off a bit of his steak and looked up at Tiffany. It was early evening, but he had set up some nice red candles for a Valentine's Day dinner anyway, because it was just his habit all his life to eat before seven and he wanted to have plenty of time after dinner for perhaps a film; they had a few still recorded and plenty of episodes of their favorite dramas and sitcoms.

She'd been a little surprised when she came home from work, but really, who wouldn't see such a move coming ten miles away? Eric was a sweet and predictable guy: he chose the obvious-but-appreciated routes of buying flowers and chocolates and other simple-but-effective means of endearment. He'd used those same treats to woo Tiffany three years ago and secure a wonderful relationship, and he'd used them repeatedly over those same years to work his magic on her time and again, but she always liked it and he'd just kept doing it.

Tonight was to be no exception. They had their routine, having dinner and then snuggling up while viewing the latest episode of Dowse, V.M.D. or Faking Brad. For Eric, the snuggling, the sense of warmth and closeness, the intimacy and belonging, that was the most important aspect of a relationship. Just bundling up together and saying nothing while enjoying your special someone's presence. He supposed it had a tiny bit to do with being a dog, but he much more preferred that it had to be with his being a romantic, hopelessly so.

At first, things had started off well enough: Tiffany had sat down and begun on her seafood salad and he on his steak and potatoes, some chitchat between them about maybe where to go for their next vacation (he wanted Nova Scotia, but she insisted Spain) and maybe finding a small house rather than their current townhouse, because having a yard would probably ease that feeling of being crowded by the neighbors.

But when she said she didn't know about that, he felt this shadow pass over his face, and he grew quiet. It was all he could do to stare at his plate for a moment, nothing said by either of them, before starting on his meal again.

And then she said it, like some kind of salve for the ache that was budding in his chest.

"I know you don't believe me," she continued, "but I really mean it." She fidgeted for a second and then put her fork down, looking him in the eye as she spoke. "I'm not just dating you, I'm in love with you. It means a lot to me that you ask what I want more often than not. You have this sweet and sincere attitude and whenever you screw up and forget something important I just can't stay mad at you because I know you meant well and didn't fully realize what you did wrong. I wish you would take the transfer your boss offered you last month, because I honestly think a move would be good for us both and especially in finding a better place to live, but I...Eric, I don't blame you for saying no."

She paused, taking deep breaths and looking away as if tears were coming out, but he couldn't see any. When she turned back to him, she was more composed and went on.

"Eric, I know how badly you want to have children, to have a few puppies of your own. I'm not going to lie to you and say that I don't want to be mother to your litter, it's just--"

She broke off again and started breathing deeply, and the canine found his voice.

"Then what is it?" he asked. He didn't sound demanding or accusatory or even the least bit suggestive. He sounded curious and needy. "I've asked you a few times about having cubs, if you'd be embarrassed to death if I named a daughter after you, but you would always just smile a bit and blush and look away from me. I told myself it was cute and you'd say something when you were ready, but the next time would happen and things would just repeat without ever progressing at all. Tiffany, I swear that I'm not angry with you for not giving me an answer before now, but for heaven's sake, just tell me why you keep putting off the answer."

For several minutes, she didn't respond, and stared at her food unmoving. Eric almost got up and embraced her and apologized for upsetting her, but before he rose from his seat, she met his eyes, and he could see she was about to really cry this time.

"Eric, it's because I love you too much."

He froze, staring at her uncomprehendingly. "That doesn't make any sense! How can you feel that you love me so much that you're afraid of having children? Do you mean you're afraid I'll turn into an abusive monster, getting drunk and beating you or the kids? That I'll run out and leave you to take care of them all by yourself, or that I'll leave you for another, younger female who doesn't have the baggage of cubs?"

He ran a hand over his head, sighing in exasperation. He tried to go on, but he found himself short and breath, and it took him a few moments to calm down and regain control of his breathing. When he did, he continued, though his voice was audibly strained.

"Tiffany, I'd rather contract some horrible illness and suffer an agonizing death than treat you or our children like dirt beneath my nails. You've met my father, you remember me telling you about how he never showed up to my Little League games, right? I've told you before how crushed I was not having both my parents there, even though my mom made a thousand excuses and a lot of them were good. Tiffany, I don't ever want to become some absentee parent or some neglectful bastard. I don't want my kids to hear that I'm dead when I'm not, or that I'm a no-good loser who hated his own, or anything. That's something that's always disgusted me, how someone can just not care for their own son or daughter, and especially to the point where they walk out on the family."

He stopped again, feeling like his throat was tightening up from the welling of his emotions. A part of him thought it best that he just hold his tongue for the time being, give her a chance to process what he'd said and respond if she wanted to. Or could. He listed to that part and cast his eyes down, holding his silence.

Sounds of sniffling reached his ears a moment later. He looked up to find tears were crawling down her cheeks (she seemed to be fighting them back and succeeding a bit), her fur wet and her shoulders twitching every few seconds.

"Tiffany?" he asked cautiously, afraid that he'd really hurt her feelings somehow. God, he was so stupid sometimes!

"It's not--" she started but a sniffle cut her off. When she started again, she maintained an even tone, no overwhelming emotions ruining her reply. "It's not because I'm afraid you'll hurt our family. I know you would never do something like that. You're too nice and caring to do something as cruel as abandonment. That's why...that's why I like it when you apologize for everything, because I know it means you're a truly good and kind person. You're the total and exact opposite of your father. You're the kind of person who'd show up to every game, drive them to karate practice, try to bake the birthday cake because the local shops don't have what our child wants, make sure the nightlight works every time, just..."

When she trailed off, he stayed silent, letting her get a second wind and wipe her cheeks before going on.

"You'd mess up sometimes in your attempts to get things right, but you'd never, ever intentionally hurt someone. You're just too nice to be mean. It really makes me sad that there aren't a lot more people like you. Eric, don't you get it? If we had a child, he'd have to be exactly like you or I wouldn't know what to do. I'm not obsessed with you, I'm not crazy, I'd love with all my heart any bundle of joy you gave me, but unless our baby was an exact copy of you, I just--I think I'd ache inside. I don't know why, but I know there'd be this kind of pain within me. Eric, I'm so sorry you have to hear all this, but it's the god's-honest truth."

The canine swallowed and realized his throat had gone dry listening to Tiffany's confession. He felt like his body was made of lead as he slowly took his glass in hand and downed a good bit of his drink. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, looking away to the corner of the room. Inside, he felt just awful. Awful, and lost. Up until then, it had been so easy to just go with the flow of life, Tiffany agreeing to many of his ideas on what to do for their next night out or what to watch and he had so few qualms about when she had a light bulb of her own. There had always, always been this warmth, a feeling of fullness from the love they shared.

Right now, he wasn't feeling any of that. He knew he still loved her and she loved him, and he somehow knew they weren't going to stop being together, but...but there was this sensation in his mind, as if he was in the middle of a huge, dark and cold room, with no idea how to get out.

"Why didn't...why didn't you tell me this before?" he croaked out, his voice starting to fail him.

She hesitated and had to force the words out. "Because I was afraid you would be disappointed in me. Like I wasn't right for you because I wanted any cub we had to be not the least bit different than you, and you'd find someone else, some surrogate or something. Eric, I swear, I was haunted by this fear no matter how much I told myself it was absurd."

That revelation, that confession, seemed to take so much out of her, and she curled into herself, her arms wrapping around her torso and her head hanging. This time, he got up immediately and was at her side in a heartbeat, embracing her even as he told her over and over that it was all right, he wasn't mad at her and she didn't need to cry anymore...

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After she'd had a good cry and tuckered herself out, he'd helped her to the couch and let her get some rest. Naturally he had settled in next to her, pulling a soft navy blanket over the both of them. It was habit for them to hold hands when drifting off on the sofa, and so it was again as he fell into his own slumber upon her shoulder, her head resting upon his.

It was a couple of hours before the otter's eyes fluttered awake, their owner reluctant to shift from her lover's embrace. But eventually Tiffany squirmed out from under Eric, being absolutely careful not to wake him as she made her way to their little table and began cleaning up. Though her steps were light and her hands were nimble, she performed every action with a heavy heart, feeling as guilty as one person could feel.

She knew that Eric wasn't upset with her, not really upset, but she could not bring herself to let go of her feelings no matter how hard she tried. In her mind, it would mean the world to him if she could give him a boy that was just the same as him, all the spots and upbeat attitude and gentleness.

But I don't know if any pup will turn out that good, she thought dismally. I wish I could just clone Eric, that would solve things.

The idea struck her then and there. She'd heard the stories the same as anyone, tales of strange and exciting sexual romps or shocking acts of depravity and lust in which a woman would spread her legs and somehow, impossibly, use her vagina to swallow up a partner. They would be pulled into her womb, that much was in common among the stories, but then they began to differ on whether the consumed was released after a short while or if they were forced to undergo a months-long period of rebirth; again, those latter tales diverged as to the reborn partner bearing hybrid traits from their second mother.

The idea was absurd, surely. Outrageous, definitely. In fact, the more thought one put into it, the more it was made clear that the entire thing was wholly mad!

...And yet the young female otter felt her heart stir at the prospect of it all, a little Eric of her own, the actual Eric made little making it even more appealing. She'd be able to mother the exact child she desired, Eric would be there to help with the rearing because he would be the puppy--everything about the idea screamed at her to go straight for it.

Setting a dish aside, Tiffany looked over her shoulder at the sleeping Dalmatian...

...And chose to do it.

She dried her hands and went back to the living room, butterflies filling her stomach. Feeling as if her pants were suddenly constricting, she removed them, her underwear immediately following. Unsure of whether keeping her sweater on would be okay, she flung it aside as well, fumbling with her bra for a second before it too was discarded.

Fully denuded, Tiffany cautiously crept forward and began to shift Eric so that he was entirely on the couch, being very careful not to move him too fast or rough lest he awaken. Once that was done, she moved to the end where his head rested, straddling the arm and back of the couch awkwardly as her pussy sat next to him.

This is it, she told herself. Now or never.

Taking a deep breath, she eased her crotch forward until the top of his head pressed against her labial lips. She pushed against his skull a bit more firmly, fear of him waking coursing through her, when she felt her nethers warm up.

Right in front of her widened eyes, Eric's head began to actually slip inside of her, the tight confines of her vagina bizarrely expanding to accommodate his girth. Tiffany gritted her teeth and ground her hips farther forward. In response, her snatch swallowed up the canine's head, bulging obscenely to take his muzzle, her honey-slicked lips stopping at the middle of his neck.

"Oh, god!" she gasped, her head thrown back as she took deep breaths. The pressure was annoying, sure, but she was being all but overwhelmed by the sexual pleasure. She'd never tried fisting, nor had she shoved any particularly large or decorated toys up there. Hell, she had not once been plowed by an equine! Wracked with so much physical bliss, she could easily see why unbirthing was something people could actually get into.

"Need to...finish," she growled, knitting her brow as she pushed on.

If her mind was in any sort of clear state, she would have been bewildered that his shoulders seemed to be shrinking in order to squeeze into her pussy. Unfortunately (or perhaps _very_fortunately), the otter was completely focused upon the bliss she was experiencing. Each shift, no matter the slightness, elicited a shiver and a moan from the otter. What would normally have been marked discomfort from having the arm of the couch pressing against the middle of her back was reduced to a minor notice as she rocked her hips and kneaded her tits, eyes screwed shut.

At this point, with nearly half of her boyfriend swallowed up, her vaginal walls began to finish the work on their own. Rather than clenching down and releasing, her folds adopting a milking motion, contracting back even as they contracted down so as to draw the Dalmatian deeper within lover's womb. Using this tactic, it took only a couple of minutes for Tiffany to engulf Eric save for his feet, the female sliding farther onto the furniture in the process.

She was barely able to hold onto the couch's back from how drenched in pleasure her mind and body were. Huffing, gritting her teeth, she managed to raise her head from the cushions and take notice of her new belly. It was lewdly distended, resembling the gut of a pregnant female easily six months along.

"Oh...oh my god..." she gasped.

Her hands slowly roamed over her expanded middle, feeling the taut muscle beneath all the fur. She could feel the warmth of Eric's body through her flesh, and a small part of her thought she could feel his heartbeat as well. A delirious smile crossed her face, her eyes sparkling with amazement and satisfaction.

Abruptly, her pussy contracted again, sucking in Eric's feet and sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through her. She went utterly rigid, her body and mind seizing up for just a second as the bliss of a near-orgasm washed over her. Breaths came ragged to her for a minute afterwards as she dearly wished that she could have orgasmed wholly, but she knew it wouldn't have helped, and might have in fact reversed the process by expelling her new pup.

With the canine completely encased in his second womb, a placenta formed and filled around him. As she lay on the couch, steadily descending into a slumber of her own, Tiffany felt a small pinch within her, but paid it little heed before her eyelids closed. What she had felt was an umbilical cord attaching to her lover-child, connecting them both for the next few months.

Soft snoring could be made out as Tiffany sank into a happy, restful dream, her hand unconsciously caressing her belly.

_ The End. _