FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I sat nervously in the waiting room, doing my best not to reach at the stench of acrid bleach that oozed from the pastel yellowed walls. The chair I was sitting on - if you could even call it a chair - was beyond uncomfortably, the burning plastic squeaking every time I so much as shifted a leg. I couldn't help it though. My anxiety and anticipation had collided in a boiling broth inside and were now cooking up some foul horror to plague my imagination with. I picked indifferently at the trailing thread of my sleeve, finding better fascination in it than in the clinical surroundings. Faintly I heard the buzz of some tannoy system, mumbled voices, the occasional cough, gurneys clattering along linoleum floors; the sounds of a place I'd rather not be. But needs must, and I mustn't be selfish. I was doing this for the both of us. I felt bad for denying him for so long.

We were, as far as I could tell, the only people to be sitting around waiting. My mate, sweet Foster, had been so patient with me. Every step of the way, no matter the trials or tribulations, the timber wolf had stuck by me right up until the bitter present. I was beyond just lucky to have found him. It was miraculous.

I cast a sidelong glance at him, taking just that reassuring look at the gentle angles of his face, the timber wolf's features always somehow retaining a remarkable quality of being both pensive and engaged at the same time. Those emerald eyes caught mine, a shy smile replying back to my curious stare. I blushed, naturally; only he can make me blush from just a look alone,

"Penny for your thoughts?" His voice sounded so sexy, especially when he slathered it in that tone he took as though he were regarding a disturbed child. He'd make an excellent dad someday. Here's hoping, right?

"Just the nerves..." I said frankly. There was little point in hiding it, it was probably already obvious enough, but he always needed to know before he acted on something. He slid his paw across the dividing arm rest between us and snuck into my own grip, fingers prising apart mine before interlacing his own. He gave me a soft squeeze, just enough to keep me grounded, to stop me from getting up there and then and storming off in a fit of panic.

"It'll be fine," he gave me that award-winning smile again, still showing the tension himself, but it was enough to keep me going for a little longer, "I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Now when have I ever let you down?" He was right, and we both knew it. I wasn't in the mood for banter, or even mild teasing. My stomach was knotted in all sorts of ways I didn't know was possible, like that special knot from folklore, the one supposed to be impossible to undo. Well my gut was like that, except ten times as worse and wound up so tightly I could feel it sitting there. We'd spent months working up to this, but I didn't think that the day would arrive so soon for the actual procedure. Foster had taken to affectionately calling it 'C-Day', but to me it was more like Doomsday. I didn't think I could really match his levels of enthusiasm for the whole thing. He was a whole lot calmer than I was, that's for sure, but then again he wasn't the one about to undergo experimental medical procedure.

A lioness was walking down the hall heading towards us. I only looked up at her because she'd been the one who had welcomed us to the clinic this morning. She was our liaison - a lovely girl really, studying at college to become a doctor herself. She was gaining experience at the clinic in order to cover that part of her exams. From the meetings we had, she was genuinely sweet. Keen to help, always a simple call away if we had any queries. Clara, her name was, Clara Jenkins. She'd moved up to Victory City a year ago. I'd learnt a lot about her, mostly because being confined to your home on indefinite sick leave tends to bore one to death. I think I was calling her up to chat more than to stress out over C-Day.

As she came closer, Foster looked up to, grinning and rising to greet her back,

"Dr Strauser will see you now." Even she sounded a little apprehensive. It was absurd really, I should have been annoyed at them. I was the one going through risky, unknown scientific nonsense that would drastically affect my life - all they were doing was hopping along for the ride. Still, I shouldn't be sour about it. They had both been excellent support, and honestly I would have folded long before were it not for them spurring me on.

I rose up, wiping my sweaty paws down along my thighs,

"Best get this over with, eh?" I joked, though my nerves must have caught the better of me, as they both gave me this awkward stare - the one where people look at you as you give some blatantly obvious signal that things are not as they seem. I could feel every heartbeat thump in my chest with a sickening pounding that echoed up into my head.

"This way please, Monty," Clara led the way, but as Foster was about to follow, the lioness put a paw against his chest, "I'm afraid you can't accompany him." This did not impress the wolf. It may sound mushy, but we were pretty much inseparable, particularly when it came to scenarios like these. Foster was, for lack of a better cliché, my rock.

"Why not?" he said in a levelled tone, though it was clear he was bristling. I would have expected him to have spat the words out had we not known the girl personally. She winced, and already I felt bad, even though it wasn't me who was treating her unfairly. She was just doing her job,

"Patients must be seen alone to ensure confidentiality and absolute control in the experiment. It could only take one individual to slip up which would endanger Monty's life. It's for his safety." Well... that was reassuring. My life was being given over to a total stranger who was about to do goodness knows what to my body, and I was to be utterly alone for it. Fantastic...

Clara led me down the corridor, and I looked back over my shoulder at my husband, rubbing the golden band about my finger. He might not be there in person, but I knew he was at least rooting for me. Poor thing, he looked so wounded. It must have been crippling to have to let me go alone. He was protective. He had been ever since we'd first found out about me. Throughout my treatment, he'd doted on my every way he could, which to some would be cloying, but when you're sick and frail, it's a godsend. As I left his receding figure back down the corridor, I was led round a corner and then he was gone. I wouldn't see him again for however long the procedure would take. Clara had told me over the phone that it'd be potentially an hour long, maybe more if complications arose, but for me it'd fly by before I knew it. I didn't hold out much hope for that. The steady stokes of adrenaline had kept me pumped. I hadn't slept a wink of sleep last night, whilst I'm sure Foster snored his head off as usual.

I remembered distinctly that it was the result of such sleepless nights which had brought me to such a predicament. He was awake, I was awake, and there was stuff that needed dealing with. I didn't like to be so morbid, but it was a necessity. Usually we just talked about the 'what if' cases, where we drafted up makeshift plans should certain scenarios happen, but it was all just hypothetical. Nothing was ever pegged down to be true. Except for this; this whole thing had been a huge debate that had gone on between me and him for months, long before I'd gotten sick.

"Just through here," We'd come to a row of numbered doors before I'd even realised. I must have been daydreaming on autopilot. I wasn't ready for the sudden shock, "Dr Strauser will be through in any minute, so make yourself comfortable," she paused, making the move to leave but she waited just a moment, pulling me abruptly into a huge hug. I stood there dumbfounded, politely returning the gesture, but she seemed to linger. As she broke off, she whispered to me, "Good luck," and then she was gone. I was left alone, utterly alone, in a clinic waiting for the doctor. Again, I reiterate, it was fantastic.

Sighing, there was little to do now but accept fate. With a trembling paw I opened the door and stepped inside, softly shutting it behind me with a resolute 'click'. I considered that my tolling bell, announcing that every chance to back out now had passed. I was doing this thing for definite.

I entered what could only be described as a morgue that had fucked a laboratory and their resulting child had turned out like this. There was barely any other way to describe it. Whilst of course it reflected the fact it was an examination room and a doctor's office, it certainly didn't look like any office I'd ever been in. To the back of the room perhaps was what roused my attention most; a bulky looking machine enclosed its jaws about a glass cylinder. It looked professional enough, with smooth white panels and a small glass display for the controls, but I couldn't figure out its purpose. Perhaps I wouldn't even need to. Whilst Clara had been helpful with dispelling some of my fears, it dawned on me there that she had never really specified anything about what I was about to do. All she had alluded to was gene therapy and accelerated growth procedures. I forget the fancy science words she used, but she spoke confidently, I remembered that much. Whatever it was, it wasn't some pseudo-science they were passing off. It was the real deal.

I took a seat on one of the spinning chairs, made from the same burning material as those back in the waiting room, and I waited out the long seconds until the doctor arrived. I'd never met him before, which was unnerving, but if he was anything like the numerous other consultants I'd been batted around with then I was expecting indifferent and calculating. The problem was, this clinic was a medical facility. It was run by scientists and not doctors. It was a privately run institute, so they didn't have to guarantee a pleasant bedside manner. It was probably best to keep one, but it was never grounded in their contracts. I think they've all been treating me like a stick of dynamite with the fuse lit because of my medical history; it's riddled with hiccups and disasters. I was potentially their biggest anomaly and couldn't in any way guarantee any success for my case. But that was fine, really. This was a last ditch attempt in all regards.

The door opened as I was tapping out a beat against my thighs. In came this towering Doberman, dressed in an immaculate white coat that draped to his knees, hiding the professorial clothing beneath. A pair of glasses was perched on his muzzle, and in his paws he held a clipboard bearing the clinic's name and logo. I assumed they were my files. They'd taken enough samples of everything they could from my body that I wouldn't have been surprised if he drew up a three dimensional model of myself to scrutinise. I could just make out the name tag clipped to his breast pocket. This was indeed the Dr Strauser I'd heard so little about,

"Arctic fox, male, aged twenty-five, five foot four... Montgomery Ardent?" He asked, addressing the unseen document on his clipboard,

"Just call me Monty." He took the other chair in the room, just a little away and opposite myself. He was a relatively attractive man, though getting on his years clearly by the streaks of grey in his muzzle. I had barely ever seen his face, perhaps maybe I'd passed him once or twice on my visits here, but mostly I was seen to by a Dr Chive, a wisened cheetah who always cracked me up with a joke he'd heard off his wife Pauline. It was always a pleasure to see him. Strauser though was a stranger. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with him performing the procedure...

"How are we today?"

"We're nervous..." I replied. There was little point hiding it. If my whole sketchy, tapping-against-my-leg antics hadn't alerted him to the fact my guts were doing somersaults then I'm sure the mere gravity of the situation would give him a hint. He fixed me with a warm, albeit stern smile,

"Understandable, but you have signed a waiver, yes?" I nodded, "If you back out now, you won't be refunded. Best to get on with it, yes?" Well... that was blunt. What a terrible bedside manner. But, I suppose I couldn't argue with him.

"Sure..." Clearly I sounded bitter, because he rubbed his eyes, doing his best to mask the exasperation. Kudos for trying Strauser, but I still saw it. That makes me feel real safe.

"I know it is scary, but we have been perfecting this procedure for a long time now. Currently, we are now merely testing its limitations - nothing more. You are in capable paws, Monty." He consulted his chart again, "Besides... Aren't you undergoing this procedure for medical reasons?"

"Cancer," I blurted the word out before I could even think, acknowledging his assumption, "I got prostate cancer... I found it a little too late though, so..." I trailed off. I didn't need to tell him. The hours of chemo, stuck in a hospital , throwing up all the time and barely having the energy to do anything. I'd fought hard, but it just hadn't been enough. When they'd removed as much as they could, the damn cells were just too aggressive and all the therapy just wouldn't make it budge. My paws drifted over my stomach, as though prepared to feel a hot ball of burning lead deep within me that sought only to end my life. It's a sickly feeling, if you're ever in that position. It's as though your body has turned against you and now wants you dead. It had been really hard on Foster. He married me before I went in for the first of many operations to remove the tumour, just in case, you know? I remembered him crying during our vows. It had felt like we were performing the final act and ending without an encore just to get all the pain over with. This, however, was supposed to be our miraculous second chance. It's why I'd decided to eventually opt out of chemo once we knew it wasn't doing any good other than making me cling on for a few months more. I'd got better, but I still was aware that inside my guts, I was dying slowly. But then this came along and dropped right into our laps from one of the hospital noticeboards alongside countless other drug trials one day at an appointment. From there, it was history; we'd sunk all our money into this, even borrowed off his brother and took out a loan. We'd be in debt for years...

"The procedure should eradicate all vicious cells, yes?" Strauser said openly, "You should be theoretically saved."

"Theoretically..." I repeated, mumbling softly. There was every chance it could go wrong. I could end up walking from this procedure and still have cancer, but it was a chance I'd have to take. I'd left everything I owned that was worth anything to Foster - Gods know he would need it should it not work. He'd need all the financial support he could get if I'm no longer around to work...

"Well, in order to meet safety criteria, I have to inform you that you must watch a short presentation and instructional video before we begin the procedure."

Oh joy, a boring video where I'm spoken to as though I'm five years old and still sucking on my thumb. I relented though, agreeing to whatever the doctor had to show me. Strauser turned a monitor to face me, taking a draw from out of his desk and fumbling with the buttons. Eventually the screen came on into life, and some female rabbit was standing in front of the facility I was in, all done up in abundant make-up and dressed impeccably in some smart suit. She had that very clinical feel to her, reflecting quite aptly the atmosphere of this place. Strauser stood up and began to head out the door, leaving me at the mercy of Miss I-wanted-to-be-a-news-reporter-really.

"Where are you going?" I asked, just as he had begun to slink out of the room.

"I just need to check one or two things and I'll be right back; it'll give you enough time to watch the video, yes?" But yes, of course...

The door clicked shut, and I was left to sour more in the room with this rabbit now wittering about something. I tuned in to listen for a brief while, wondering if it might actually be relevant.

"Here at Genus we are committed to the prosperity of our people, ranging from the simplest of medicines to ventures into the frontiers of experimental sciences. Funded through the OmniTech Eden Trust, we have for several decades now brought about great benefits that have since aided the world into a healthier and smarter tomorrow,"

So meaningless drivel it was going to be then. I'd had enough lectures on how the company had pushed through new frontiers of medicine and science to 'shake paws with the Gods', but really it was all just nonsense drummed up to fool the taxpayer into thinking this was some worthwhile cause. I'd checked into the background of Genus from the moment Foster had asked me to seriously consider it, and within the past twenty years the only leaps and bounds they've actually made compared to the stuff they like to spout out is that they've successfully treated one kid who had a damaged heart with the help of some government technology and another case where they've been trying to synthesise better aesthetics for the automatic prosthetics industry - you know, better response time, more life-like appearance, that sort of thing. This intersex campaign was supposed to be their main focus right now, though honestly it felt more like a sideshow.

"We have strived to break through the boundaries normally restricted for commercial use - with special grants given that allow us to move beyond ethics, our research and results have laid out new building blocks for everyday life."

She even had this annoying cheesy voice too. The woman, reading out what sounded like a script drafted together by some of the most amateurish writers ever in existence, had a tone that just dripped with fakery and sappy lines, to the point at which I couldn't tell whether she herself was being sarcastic or serious. I had to just lean back in my seat, huff out a sigh through clenched teeth that threatened to grind one another to dust, and wait this out. Part of me recalled the other reason I had ever so tactfully kept back from the Doberman, the one which had clinched the deal.

Before, when Foster had shown me the flyer, I had been apprehensive. The procedure could irreversibly turn me into a female downstairs, and that was something I was incredibly fearful of. Sure, I was with Foster, and when we'd started dating he'd felt obliged to tell me he was actually bisexual. Not that it mattered, but to him, he'd had past boyfriends who were put off by the fact he could look at anyone, girl or guy, and still be attracted to them. I wasn't bothered by it. People are all different and we all like different things, so as long as he proved himself loyal to me, I wasn't about whipping his ass if he made friends with some woman at work or what have you. But his flexible sexuality helped with the scenario; he would love me just the same if I had a vagina downstairs, since we'd already established he wanted to be on top all the time. For me, the problem was the huge 'what if' that hung over the entire situation. What if he leaves? It was a very bitter thought to have, and I knew he was downtrodden when I broached the subject to him, but I had to voice my concern. What if he left after the procedure, be it for another person or maybe he passed away suddenly... what do I do then? I'd have a very hard time explaining to any date of mine that if they wanted fucking they'd have to buy me a strap-on.

Foster took care of that though. Tying the knot certainly helped to alleviate my worries that he'd leave, not that I'd doubted him but it was reassuring to know he'd made the commitment regardless. But it had been perhaps a week or so after that doctor's appointment, after we'd learnt of the Genus Project, when Foster showed me this video...

"Have you seen this?"

"Seen what?"

"This."

He passed me his tablet, pushing it into my paws eagerly. I remembered being so confused, because we'd both just literally sat down were preparing to go to sleep. He was like a child, pestering the parent to play one last game or to stay up for an hour more before going to bed.

The tablet had been put onto this site, some cheap porno video place where amateurs could come post their homemade stuff. Frankly, I'd always steered clear of stuff like this. It gave overblown impressions of what sex was like and dulled someone to what could really be good to what they think they want. Foster had been a porn addict as a kid, often unable to go by a single day without jacking one off as adolescent needs kicked in. Still, he'd left puberty looking like a dream and frankly I'd been lucky to score so well. He'd found other interests to pacify his mind. Like weight-lifting or sports. You get the idea...

Anyway, he'd already loaded up some video on the screen. I had been shocked it was even showing me something like that, but I trusted him enough to know it wasn't just because. There had been a reason.

"What is it?" I recalled the title so distinctly just because of its ludicrous spelling. It read 'Fuckin ma boi's pussy', well it read it somewhere on the page I remember. There had been so many tacky adverts littering the page it was hard to tell which the actual video was and what was some scam promising sexy singles in your area or an extra ten inches on your dick. Part of me just assumed what I could from what I saw. The description of the video was pretty much just the title except lengthened out a bit with a few more adjectives and other than that, the video was non-descript.

"Have you watched it?"

"Yes, clearly..." Of course I'd never seen anything quite like it. He knew then as he does now that I never watched stuff like that. I remembered him pulling a face at my dry comment, but he had persisted,

"Liar. Just watch it, trust me." He flopped down beside me, leaning over so that we could share the screen as he intended.

He hit play, and instantly some crappy quality background noise had kicked in. Somebody shuffling about, footsteps and mumbled voices, just your average amateur's attempt at shooting some sex. But then the camera lurched upon what we were supposed to be seeing. A guy, at least by my accounts I could say he was a guy, lounged on a bed with his legs spread wide, crotch facing the camera and propped up on one elbow. A feline, much like myself, perhaps a puma but the video quality was dire so I couldn't really distinguish the species, had his free paw rubbing between his legs. Now normally this comes as no surprise. What man doesn't like to feel himself up in the anticipation before a good rutting, but this seemed off... His cock, going off where he was rubbing exactly, was awkwardly placed and possibly pretty small in size.

Then the camera got closer... That's when I properly saw it.

This cat, whoever he was, wasn't so much a 'he' as I had first thought. To put it bluntly, he didn't have a dick. Or balls, for that matter, he didn't have a single piece of manly junk down there. Not a single ounce. I wasn't a fool to think that men might not have had something removed down there either as a childhood accident or health reasons, but what shocked me more was that in place of those beautiful crown jewels was the one thing I'd never found myself in bed with. A vagina. A cunt, a pussy, a velvety hole, whatever you want to call it, he had one. He or she, I don't know... But they had one, and looked completely male. I just watched on in awe as the cameraman whipped out this reptilian cock and mounted this pussy, both of them...

It was hot, don't get me wrong, it certainly got me hard watching, just thinking about how that dude could be a dude but still take it like a bitch that some bottoms and subs longed to be. I had been envious, I had to say, but I was still nervous. Now I knew why Foster had shown me the video. He wanted to try and reassure me that things would still be interesting, that we'd still have sex and that it could be just as mind-blowing for me as it was for him.

"You think it's sexy, don't you?"

"A little, maybe..." I had to be somewhat honest with him on that part. But back then, back when I hadn't made up my mind over the whole thing, I guess I must have needed some kind of push. Part of me wanted to live, as I'm sure most people would have felt in my position, but to give up my manhood in the hopes that I'd live just as long a life as everyone else was a hard call. You might be annoyed to think I was weighing up my options of my life or my dick, but it's a difficult decision, more so than you think. Especially when the result wouldn't be just living without a cock, but it would mean living life with a female's genitals, explaining to people you're not some weird guy stuck in a phase of post-op for turning into a woman. Imagine it like this; you're giving up a broken paw that won't ever heal, and in return you're getting a hoof attached there - sorry ladies, no offense meant. Your nether region is splendid, I'm sure, but I was then being faced with the decision of whether I'd willingly switch to save my life.

Foster had me caught back then. It was the point which I remember most because it was then that he had me make up my mind. His paw had reached across the bed, cupping my groin just as the cat had done in the video with his lover, groping my swelling sheath that would soon be gone, breathing into my ear in that gruff voice,

"Liar. You though it was hot."

It was. I couldn't have denied him.

"Yeah... yeah it was..."

It looked fucking amazing.

I lurched to when the video began to scroll through credits of the few people who'd cobbled it together just as Strauser came back into the room. He carried a folder with him, bearing my name in lovely bold red letters. I straightened myself out and stealthy wiped my face, pretending to stifle a yawn. He didn't seem the least bit interested as he plopped himself right back down.

"Was the video informative?" He asked, not that he seemed to be fairly interested in the response as I mumbled some kind of affirmation back. "Good, good..." Rippling sheets could be heard from the file until he found something he was looking for, pulling it out and flattening it against his clipboard, "I have a few questions which I must go over with you to check the responses, is that alright?"

"Sure," Go ahead; draw this out for longer than it has to be. I'm not nervous, he said sarcastically. Let's just hope this was the home stretch...

"Have you experienced any medical issues with your genitalia or the surrounding area - aside from the cancer, of course?"

"No, not that I'm aware."

"Do you experience a healthy sex life?" I blushed. It was hardly a question you asked anyone, but he was a doctor, I suppose, and if things were confidential I could hardly complain. Besides, it was all for my benefit and safety. Being prudish would only risk my health.

"Yes." Best to be blunt but vague - I don't want him learning the details.

"How often do you engage in sexual activity?" Fuck! Details it was then.

"Roughly once a day, sometimes two if my husband is up to it." Strauser fixed me with a curious look,

"You are in a relationship?" He seemed to be surprised by that information. It seemed odd that that should concern him.

"Yeah, to the wolf in reception, is that a problem?"

"So he's aware of the procedure you're undergoing today?" I nod, bemused that this was a problem. It didn't go amiss, "Often we get a lot of women and men coming here in secrecy and volunteering for the project without the knowledge of their partners or relatives - the work that goes on here can do without all the drama we have to cope with. This isn't really any of my or the company's business, but what is his opinion on the procedure? I mean, if you're in a homosexual marriage, surely then there will be consequences when one of you turns female where it arguably matters most."

"That's okay; Foster's actually bi so he's not too bothered. He just wants me to live." The Doberman hummed in thought, still seeming perturbed.

"I feel then I must also inform you that clinically speaking, we are stepping into the unknown here. Whilst simulations have proven positive, we have no way of knowing what will happen to you after the procedure. Biologically speaking, we won't know if you could bear a child, even menstruate, or if your body can accept the new stimulations. Are you still certain that you want to go through with this?" At least the man was being forthright. It had taken me a week to riddle that out of Dr Chive, even then he'd given me some washy explanation that I was just a trial run and that the likelihood of anything being in anatomically functioning order was low. Still, the odds were there. I was on the fence about them.

"It's not like I have much of a choice." I sounded far more serious than I had meant to, but it was stupid pretending like this was something I could walk away from if I wanted. Walking away would mean passing up an opportunity at living. Even if it didn't eradicate the cancer, Foster and I could still have fun with the result. A win-win slash potential lose.

"Very well..." Strauser said soberly, reaching out across to the other side of the room from his chair and dragging across a trolley. It looked very medical-like, laden with stuff I didn't even know could exist, and plenty of sharp and terrifying things, all upon a silver tea trolley as though I was in the laboratory of a mad scientist. Perhaps I was. Who even knows at this point?

The Doberman plucked up a hypodermic needle from the trolley, fixing it all together with such flourish as though he'd done this countless times before. Part of me suspected he has, and my mind strayed to all the other men and women who'd opted for the procedure. How were they holding up? Maybe we could form some sort of club, all meet up for tea and coffee and a cream-custard to discuss the funk about our junk.

Speaking up again, Strauser plunged the needle tip into a bottle of a clear, colourless fluid and extracted a hefty load into the syringe,

"Please can you strip down for me."

"Buy me a drink first," I chipped in, but he didn't laugh. So much for funny, I thought, as I began to take off my clothes. It felt weird. Normally I'd have Foster telling me to get my clothes off, and normally he'd have me put on a show as he told me to strip in that sexy voice of his, already donning the gear we'd be playing with that evening, but here it was like one of those freaky medical fantasies people get playing out right in front of me. I wondered if I'd wake up in a minute and realise it was all some fucked up wet dream.

I slipped off my shirt and gormlessly folded it up and put it on the chair I'd just been sitting on. I wasn't quite sure where it was going to go, but Strauser didn't really give me any direction. He just busied himself preparing the injection for me when I was ready. I unbuckled the belt to my jeans and tugged them down. Strauser watched me then, even if it was just a glance, but it had me suspecting maybe he got more of this job than just a pay cheque. I wasn't exactly that well-endowed, not that it mattered to me, but I bulged out nice in the jockstrap I'd been wearing today. Probably after this I'd have to start wearing women's underwear and legwear, so I figured I might as well go out with a bang and wear the most masculine underwear I could. I stopped at the underwear.

"All of it."

I couldn't help but blush. Of course, it seemed obvious I would have to be nude at some point, but I didn't think it would be there and now. With my face glowing a furious red, and hooked my thumbs under the waistband and wiggled my hips, pulling the underwear down and exposing the entirety of my body to the harsh clinical air. I felt like every angle of my being was getting scrutinised all at once, prodded and probed like I was some kind of dummy. I suppose I was, in a way, but it was so very wrong. Strauser gave another glance at my crotch before he straightened up, bringing himself to attention,

"Hold out your arm please."

Obediently, I did as I was told. The Doberman took a firm grip of my wrist and pulled me toward him, me stumbling the extra step that was necessary for him to be working conveniently in reach of everything. My free paw covered up my man bits that I'd soon be losing. I could feel cool pre stuck to the edges of my sheath - a remnant of this morning. I'd been so wound up and tense that Foster had suggested I take one last chance to indulge in my maleness before I'd change, so my morning wood ended up being utilised to the maximum. I wondered if the wolf still tasted my cum on his tongue. It'd be the last time he'd ever get that. It was almost sad that I had to say goodbye to it all, but the decision was out of my paws at this point.

A sharp prick jabbed at the soft tissue at my elbow, wincing as the needle slid into my body. I hated needles. It was such a horrible feeling, and as a kid I used to always get so skittish around them. I kept thinking that someday, someday where the Gods would abandon all creation, the needle would snap inside my body like a twig and I'd have it cut through my veins. It had made me so fearful of medical stuff. I had to get over that fear pretty quickly once the test results came back positive for cancer.

"What's that for?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"You said you watched the video." Strauser retorted. I guess I wouldn't know then... "It's a marker, to identify all the blood vessels in your body for the machine to detect. The finer vessels are hard to recognise from the organs and muscles." Oh. We were now talking about machines? Images flashed in my head of those kinds of contraptions you see in horror films, with loads of mechanical appendages and arms all adorned with some kind of torture device, all whirring away at my crotch whilst I was strapped down. My heart was already racing.

I cast a look back to the thing that sat at the back of the room. Would that be my operating table? It seemed so out of place. I knew that the procedure involved unconventional surgical methods, but I had expected some sort of theatre maybe, not an examination room.

"Please sit down and spread your legs."

Again, I did as I was told, picking up my folded piles of clothes and placing them on the side before sitting back down. I was hesitant about parting my legs for the doctor, but I did so anyway. It would be useless trying to argue with a man who'd just yanked my arm to him and stabbed it with a needle. Strauser leant in and brushed my paws away, picking up some kind of shaving device. I couldn't help but whimper softly to myself as he promptly began to shear away my fur down below. My thick white fur was slowly peeling away to reveal the peachy skin beneath, my body shivering and feeling utterly ashamed. I didn't know what to say. I actually wanted to leave. I think Strauser noticed, because he spoke softly for once, actually like he cared,

"It's alright. The procedure will regrow any lost fur. It's just that contaminants in your fur currently might confuse the system. This way, there is clean, safe access to your genitals." He put a reassuring paw on my shoulder and squeezed firmly, giving me this apologetic smile. It made sense, but it didn't lessen the shame. I just bit my lip and trudged on through; I waited for whatever next had to be done.

"If you'd like to just step up into the chamber..."

Strauser rose up from his chair and strode over to the contraption in the back. He tapped a few buttons the console that were fixed to its side and it lit up, buzzing in all sorts of worrying noises until the whole thing churned into life. The chamber the Doberman was referring to was the tube, with its light blue glass making up the pod itself. Inside was my worst nightmare. Just as I feared, it was some kind of table fashioned into the silhouette of a person, with restraints fixed at every possible point. Nervously, I took a step forward as Strauser lifted away the pod's door for me to head inside. The smell of thick chemicals poured across my nose like a rich soup, and even as I came closer it was practically rancid. I just held my breath as I turned around and shuffled my way inside, doing my best to focus on slowing my heart down rather than breathing in the questionable stench. I was getting a bit concerned about the cleanliness of this facility, but it was too late to really file a complaint. As I settled back against the 'table', the Doberman reached in and began to attach the cuffs around my body,

"What are you doing?"

"It's to hold you in position during the procedure. You'll be put under anaesthetic through the surgery, and to avoid you moving," he picked up one of the restraints, "...these are here to prevent that." I just swallowed down my fear and nodded like I understood. Honestly, I was petrified, and the whole experience was doing nothing to calm me down. I just did my best to keep as pacified as I could. It was no easy feat, let me tell you.

When the final restraint was fitted down, leaving me trapped to the table in the foul-smelling tube, Strauser stood back and admired his work, as though he were an artist taking in the scale of a masterpiece. It didn't feel good. He disappeared for a moment more and returned with a marker pen, squatting down and uncapping the pen. I looked away whilst he drew on the dotted lines because frankly I believed that if I did I'd begin imagining what was gonna happen to me during the operation, then I'd start freaking out and then I'd just be sick everywhere. He stopped eventually, after all the little jabbing scrapes of felt against my loins, and put the pen back aside. Next he began fitting electrodes to my body, some at my elbows, others at my temple, on the backs of my paws, sides, chest, all over it felt like - probably to monitor me whilst I was inside and he was outside in the safe room. He then fitted a mask over my muzzle, tubes dangling down from overhead connected to the clear plastic front, operated via a series of valves and gizmos that I didn't recognise; something to breathe through then, perhaps a method to apply the anaesthetic too. Naked, wired up, and strapped down, this definitely must have been one of those fucked up sex videos that belong on those tacky amateur porn sites.

With both paws, he began to swing the tube's front back shut again, clamping down the metal locks which now sealed me inside. My heart rate jumped to a thousand, the organ thundering in my chest as I began to breathe rapidly in shallow lurches. I wanted out. I wanted out now.

From over an intercom, in some sort of speaker inside the chamber, I heard Strauer's voice crackle through,

"You need to calm down, Monty; otherwise I can't start the procedure."

I forced myself to cool off, breathing in the stale pumped air that was fed to me. I just had to be calm that was all, to just calm down and breathe deeply. Let my eyes close shut gently and...

Wait... I felt drowsy. Like delirious and dizzy kind of drowsy. Not the nice kind of drowsy you get before drifting off to sleep, but the kind of drowsy where you're standing in the middle of the road with oncoming traffic hurtling towards you, but all your body wants to do is stand there and wait sluggishly kind of drowsy. I tried to fight back, wildly opening my eyes each time I realised they were slipping shut, but it was pointless. Strauser must have gassed me with anaesthetic whilst I'd been unaware, maybe to maximise its effectiveness - I don't know. I was too busy freaking out just as I'd predicted to mull over the petty details.

Some kind of gloopy liquid began to fill in from the bottom of the tube. Though I was losing sensation in my limbs as they began to strain at their bonds less and less, I could feel the warmth goo rise up from my footpaws up my shins. I tried to look down, but I wasn't given much room to manoeuvre in; I could just wait as this gel slithered up my body, gulping me down whole. I was so scared, all I wanted was Foster, just to see his face at least on the other side of the glass to let me know I was gonna make it out of this on the other side. But he wasn't there, and as the gel slipped up to my face I could see my reflection, eyes wide and frightened, my face a look of distress. The liquid itself was a blue sludge, thick and slimy, which clung to my body and fur and swallowed me entirely. As it went past my eyes, I had to blink blindly for a couple of seconds, trying to see through the murky sea of blue, until my eyesight fogged over entirely, blue turning to black and my mind growing to a quiet whisper, then silent.

I don't remember anything after that.

What I do remember is waking up after however long later lying down in a hospital bed, my mind groggy and my body more so. Foster was at my side, thank the heavens, and when he heard me gurgling, trying to talk amongst all the beeps and dings of the machines around me, he leapt up from the chair and took my paw in his, keeping me lying down with a push against my shoulder. In my weakened state, I could hardly resist. He pushed me down like I was a domino waiting to fall.

"Hey sweetie," he cooed, brushing my headfur away from my eyes as I blinked, trying to get used to the bright lights, "It's okay, just take it easy. You've been asleep for a few days."

A few days? Bloody hell, what exactly happened to me?

As I slowly got acclimatised to the light, I turned my head as much as I was allowed to look at my new environment. Gone was that infernal tube, and no longer was I in the ghastly examination room; I'd been put into some kind of private room, possibly something Foster forked out for in my package without telling me - the sneaky bastard, I love him too much - and it was relatively quiet, aside from the busy doctors, nurses and orderlies who scurried past my doorway.

"Do you want to sit up?" I gurgled yes and he reached down to the side of the bed, picking up that remote all hospital beds have and tapped one of the buttons. A soft whir started up behind my head and gradually I rose up, my body lifting from its flat posture into that of a reclining one. Once it got to a certain point though, my abdomen flared up in blistering pain and I clenched my eyes, grunting aloud in discomfort. Immediately Foster stopped and made his gentle apology, "Sorry sweetheart, Clara tells me that you're to expect some pain down there for a few hours after wakening. Apparently it's unavoidable, even with painkillers, since the body's getting used to the new... changes."

Changes? Oh... that's right. The changes. My gut dropped instantly. Did I want to know? Did I really have it in me to investigate there and then? I suppose I ought to. After all, it was my body from now on. I couldn't just ignore everything down there now until the day I died. Nerves rose up in my throat, sticky bile threatening to be spewed, but I held it all down, forcing myself to remain calm. I tried to move my paw under the covers, but Foster leaned onto the bed and took a hold of my wrist gently, stopping me before I did.

"Just wait and recover, will you? You've had me scared half to death these past few days... It's not just hard for you, you know..."

Damn... I hadn't thought of the toll this was taking on Foster. I'd been pretty selfish, wrapped up in my own disputes over whether or not I could go through with it, dealing with the ever present issue of cancer, I hadn't even begun to think about what this was all doing to the timber wolf. He'd been supportive because naturally I was the one suffering the most, having to make huge decisions and being the bravest I could possibly be, but he was just as much a victim too. As I looked at his relieved face, finally noting the redness of his eyes and the black bags under them, I realised now he had been having the worst time of his life whilst I was out. I just wanted to pull him into bed with me and cuddle him to death, telling him I was okay now, that we'd be fine, but all I managed was a rough, rasping 'sorry' and then 'kiss?'. He just chuckled, leaning down and put his lips to mine, the fleeting touch enough to lift both our spirits.

"I forgive you, sleeping beauty." He drew his chair closer to my bed and sat back down, practically inches away from me and still holding my paw in his, "Now, Clara's going to be here soon with Dr Strauser to examine you, and since you're now awake they can start prepping you for release, so you'll be discharged I hope..." Foster trailed off, "I hope everything's ready at home... I've tried to stock up on the things we'd need, making sure I can keep you comfy and entertain in the bedroom."

"What about..." I mumbled, coughing as I tried to speak properly for the first time in days, "Wha..." Another cough. Damn, this was harder than I thought.

"What is it?" Foster asked, fetching a glass of water from the side and putting it to my muzzle. He tipped the glass gently, letting me take tiny, heavenly sips until I felt my thirst was wetted.

"What about 'Ladies of Leisure'?" I said, smiling wryly, "Have you recorded the latest episode?"

Ladies of Leisure was a comedy drama about housewives and househusbands, aptly named for the stuff they get up to whilst their oddly absent partners are off elsewhere. When it first came out, people thought it was going to be a typical reality show about rich men and women living out lives of luxury whilst spatting between each other, but the producers fooled everyone when it went on to be a big hit. Foster gave me a huge grin,

"Oh yeah! You're not gonna believe what Maria Delaware gets up to when she finds out she ca-" I hushed him silent, coughing a little as the gesture put a strain on my throat,

"Dude!" I said, "Spoilers, geez..."

He giggled, giving my paw a tight squeeze, his thumb rubbing over the back,

"Fuck, it's so good to have you back."

I don't remember what we spoke about. We just talked and talked endlessly whilst I caught up on all that had happened whilst I'd been asleep. I learnt through it all that my brother had flown in from out of state to see me when I woke up, that Andrea our next door neighbour had given birth to a little girl which she'd called Isabelle, and that her husband had finally come back from serving, so everything was good with them. It was nice really, to hear the happy stories Foster had to tell, though I was a bit sad I'd missed it all. Not that this wasn't the best way to wake up from a life-altering procedure, but I would have preferred to have been there to witness the news first-paw.

Slowly, as time went on, I began to recover my strength and senses. I was able to start moving my arms about, able to hold things in my paw and soon after that Foster didn't have to hold my glass for me whilst I gulped down a gallon of water. My throat was parched, being fed nutrients and fluids through a tube hardly a fitting substitute for the real thing. He just kept pouring me glass after refreshing glass. I was hungry, but I wasn't sure if I could eat yet without being given the all clear. Foster didn't offer to get me any food, so I assumed that was the case. He asked me how the procedure went.

"It was... scary," I admitted, "It's like one of those torture devices you see in horror films like 'Blade'. It was this big tube that filled up with some kind of gel, and I was really scared because you know I don't like medical stuff." He nodded, quietly listening to my story with a sombre expression, "But I just tried to bear through it all. I have to come clean, there was a moment where I was prepared to just walk out of there and say no, but I guess I didn't really have a choice..."

"Sweetheart..." he took my one paw within both of his, thumbs rubbing across my own, "You always had a choice. No matter what, I'd stand by whatever decision you make, no matter how hard it is. Are you at least glad you've got through it?"

I don't know... was I glad I've done it now?

"We'll see..." I said, somewhat ominously if I'm honest, but I didn't have room for optimism. Optimism in my position always led to crushing disappointment. It was best to expect the worst and be surprised by the best, "Once I get checked out for cancer, we'll see... Can we get them to take a sample now?" Foster shook his head sadly,

"No. They don't offer that service. They were just here to perform the procedure and make sure nothing's going wrong down there." He pointed to my crotch, and again I got the burning desire to investigate just exactly what it was down there. I restrained myself from trying to have a grope again, but I had to voice my curiosity,

"Have you... seen it?" Foster blushed, eyes darting away. Fuck! "Oh Gods, you have!"

"Clara wanted me to see!" He blurted out, doing his best not to laugh. I wasn't amused though, not when this was my body, "I looked at it for maybe a second or two, just so I knew what I was to expect."

"Thanks!" I spat venomously, crossing my arms in a huff, "I bet the lack of my manhood was so funny to gawp and laugh at!"

"Hey!" Foster said, stifling down his chortles until he was back to normal, speaking in that soft, sultry voice I couldn't deny, "Hey... You, Mr Grumpy Pants, chill. Everything's fine. It looks fine. In fact..." He leant in close to my ear, "It looks hot..."

I blushed, feeling arousal growing in my body. His hot breath warmed my ear and his presence so close to mine set off a chain reaction that coursed through my body.

"So fuckable... I can't wait to mount you and breed you like the bitch you now are..."

Now normally under these circumstances he'd have me popping a boner, squirming about as I got hard with him teasing me, but instead something very peculiar and very alien happened. Unlike the normal throbs of blood I'd feel pumping into my dick, there was no pulses. There was no hardness. I could just feel a soft burning in my crotch, something stirring to life. It had me writhing on the bed and desperate to put my paws down to my crotch, to give it a rub around. It took me an impressive amount of willpower just to hold me back, but the whole sensation had me petrified. I whimpered as I tried to calm down, hoping the sensations would abate and go away. Foster cooed softly,

"Sorry baby, didn't mean to startle you. Maybe it's a little too soon for all the dirty talk and flirting. Guess I need to let my balls stew for a while longer." He smiled bashfully, nuzzling my neck and pecking my cheek. The bastard... but, as always, I forgave him. I was still fairly rattled by the whole experience though.

"Is that... Is that how girls feel down there?"

"How would I know?" he asked, bemused, sitting back properly in his chair.

"You've dated them before; you're bisexual, remember? You should know these things."

"Yeah, I've never gone to a girl after and asked 'Excuse me miss, thanks for letting me blow my load, now can you tell me how it felt for you? In detail please, not just 'good'."

"You're a dick."

"And you're a pussy... literally." I had to laugh. He was just too sweet. "There we go; that's better. Now I'm getting my Monty back." I smiled, matching his warm beaming grin. It was so good that I had him with me. I'd have been lost throughout all this without him. Truly, I was the luckiest guy-without-a-penis in the world. We went back to talking, just about anything that came to mind, like we always did when we take days out to ourselves.

It must have been a couple of hours until the Doberman and lioness came through the door. Foster and I had just been passionately discussing who the better kisser was when they turned up. Clara rushed to the bedside and promptly pushed my husband aside to give me a massive hug, something which I fondly returned. She smelt like lavender, which was nice.

"Gods, Monty!" she exclaimed, "It's so good to see you! Awake, I mean."

"It's good to be back." I smile politely to let them all know I was okay, but Strauser seemed indifferent to me being conscious. Stoic as ever, he acted as though the news mattered little,

"Welcome back Monty, I trust you slept well?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "Now that you're conscious, we'll need to perform the invasive examination. Mr Ardent, if you'd like to leave the room."

"No." Oh wow... You should have seen the look on his face when I'd said that. It was priceless.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said no." I said. I really did say. "Foster stays here with me. I've spent enough time without him and he without me. I want him here."

"I can't allow tha-" Clara cut him off with a stern glance, some unspoken words exchanged between them, until Strauser visibly deflated, relenting to the nurse, "Very well, just this once... But he is not to observe the examination." Foster just shrugged. Like he really cared what they did when prodding around down there.

That's when it hit me, and my mind remembered they'd said 'invasive'. They were actually going to prod down there. Immediately I began to stiffen up, panic hitting me like a slow wave, rolling up my body like a tide might crawl up a shore. Even as Clara begin to lift away my sheets, I shivered nervously, my paw clutching Foster's in a steel vice, refusing to let go. He just pulled me close and let me rest my head against his own, knowing there was little he could do to help me calm down except simply be there in company. Clara lifted some stirrups up from the sides of the bed, slotting them into place before gently lifting up my legs. I dutifully obliged and helped move them into the footholds, but I was by no means okay with this. From what had happened when getting aroused before, I didn't want to know what it felt like having some blunt doctor poking about inside me. With my lower body raised as though I was about to give birth, the Doberman lifted up my gown to reveal what lay below.

I struggled to see, so Clara went and fetched me a mirror, placing it in front of my groin so that for the first time I could look at my new sex organs.

It was so weird seeing it there. No longer could I say that I had a cock and balls or a sheath for it was all just gone. Everything was. It was all so immaculately flat, as if nothing had ever been there. It kinda freaked me out a little, but I remained calm as I examined it closely in the reflection. I'd seen pictures of women's vaginas before, it wasn't like I was that gay that I couldn't even look at one, but I honestly had to say I'd never seen a real life one before - my expectations therefore were mixed. At least the fur had grown back, just like Strauser had said, though it was far finer and much silkier than before, where it had been coarse and thick. It felt elegant, practically lady-like, as though it was some warped joke.

"Can I...?" I asked. The need to touch overwhelming now, itching in the back of my brain and refusing to be ignored anymore - Strauser seemed reluctant but he gave me the go ahead. Immediately, my paws darted from Foster's grip to my crotch, stopping only at the hip. I place my fingers down along the joint of my leg, on either side, and slowly moved them across down towards each other. Normally, had I still had my dick, I would find my sheath there with two balls swinging down below, but my digits came across nothing but an open slit. It was moist to the touch, my tips brushing along sensitive flesh, a similar sensation to that of touching the head of my cock. But this felt so much more intimate now. I watched in the mirror, transfixed by what I was seeing. Two fingers on one paw moved to the top of 'my' vagina, one on either side of the slit, and they pulled apart. I honestly couldn't tell you much scientifically about what I saw, but all I knew was that it was both beautiful and frightening at the same time. I had a clit, that was new certainly, and I had weird lips which probably had an actual name to them, and it went deeper and deeper. I put a finger to them and pushed in, feeling the glistening soft flesh mould around the digit; the feeling went straight to my head, rocketing up my spine as I felt myself moving down in there, struggling not to wriggle about as I let my finger in to the first then second knuckle. It was unbelievable, intoxicatingly mesmerising... I'd played around with my sheath before, Foster had even managed to coerce me into a bit of sounding, and sure I'd taken dicks up the ass all the time, but this was a totally new feeling. One I would undoubtedly have to grow used to. My finger met resistance and I had to pull back out, shuddering as the tip left the lips, a glowing warmth radiating through my loins. Gods, this was phenomenal...

"May we continue with the examination?" Strauser said brusquely, interrupting my moment of getting mind-fucked by my new cunt. I rolled my eyes, but leant back all the same, a little more at ease now that I was more familiar with what was now part of me. "Thank you. Nurse Jenkins, please fetch me the swabs, disinfectant and gloves."

Clara did as she was told and fetched everything the doctor needed, amongst other things. She also brought back a whole tray of bizarre things, some of which I could just about recognise. One caught my eye though. A fairly small but still quite intimidating speculum, one I believe that must have been designed for the vagina. Besides that lay a long thin tube attached to a monitor, a scalpel or two, and small forceps. Strauser barely showed that he was grateful as sat down in a chair, pulled right up to the foot of my bed so that his face was huffing its hot breath against my pussy. He pulled gloves on over his paws and snapped them tight in true mad doctor style. I just put my head back to the pillow and braced for whatever was to come; ready to interpret the sensations come-what-may. Foster took a hold of my paw again, something I really needed.

First Strauser cleaned the surrounding area with alcohol, making sure it was clean before examination - so perhaps I'd been a little too quick to judge this place on its hygiene. It tickled feeling those swabs wiping around the outermost edges of my lips, trying hard not to squirm so I didn't seem so pathetic before him.

Strauser took out a recorder from his breast pocket, clicking a button on its side and speaking into the device,

"Cellular reconstruction appears to have worked perfectly - very few imperfections if any at all. The male's genes have accepted the augmented coding and integrated it perfectly." He consulted my chart at the end of the bed, reading it for a moment, "The body shows signs of normal development; the subject forty-six has adapted tremendously well, considering the last subject which showed some signs of fluctuating synapse interactions." The Doberman stroked my clit with a fingerstip ever so gently, working it in circles. I felt it harden beneath his tip, moaning softly, involuntarily. I was shocked at the feeling. "This is no longer a problem; the subject appears to be experiencing a full sensory interaction with the newly form vagina." His finger slid along my wet lips, forcing me to bit my tongue so I didn't moan again unwillingly. Maybe this was why he didn't want Foster here, to see him violate me, "The labia appear to be of adequate size, nothing out of the ordinary, and secretion is at an optimum level, enough for penetration should the subject desire it." I felt something cold and gooey getting applied to my lips, large dollops of wetness sliding down my crotch. Then fingers pushed the goo into my cunt, one finger for now. The sensation was teeth-chattering, feeling Strauser slide the digit in unceasingly until he was as deep as he could go. "The subject appears to have developed a hymen, I believe. This is unprecedented so far but prepared for; therefore I'm making the professional decision to remove it in order for the trial to be undertaken." He stopped talking into the dictaphone and turned to the lioness, "Please hand me the scalpel."

He gave the dictaphone back to Clara, who exchanged it for a his required instrument. I clenched up in anticipation for it, not that it really did any good as I soon felt a sharp, painful slice along the newly formed opening to my body, causing my whole gut to somersault and protest at the attacking intrusion. Holy fuck it hurt... I felt swabs being pressed around the incision, held for a few minutes then removed. They came back into my field of vision deep red. Holy shitting fuck, what had he done! "The hymen is now successfully broken; I shall now use the vaginoscope to examine deeper inside."

Clara clicked pause on the recorder, and I finally took the chance to demand answers,

"What the hell did you just do?!" I tried to say in a levelled voice, although it came off as a little aggressive. The lioness cut to the answer first,

"For the means of the trial, we need to have full access to the vagina in order to examine it and make sure things are developing accordingly. Unfortunately, that means we have to break, or in this case cut away, the hymen in order to have access to the deeper parts. We don't have time to attempt to stretch out the opening in order to achieve that." It all sounded very clinically professional, and honestly I didn't expect that from Clara. But she managed to redeem herself, "I'm sorry Monty, truly, but really this way means you'll heal up much faster, probably just a day, rather than if you'd let Foster here go at it." I glanced over at the wolf, who gave me a sheepish grin. Well, we were never prudish about our sex life when it came to our health... We'd told Clara most things.

"Nurse, the speculum please."

Clara passed the doctor exactly what I hadn't wanted to be used. I gritted my teeth together as hard as I could, watching the silvered device get brought across from the tray and down to his groin. Strauser was kind enough to slather it in lube, but as he held the contraption's tip to my opening, the freezing chill was something I couldn't have anticipated and braced for. It was like an icicle was spearing me open, impaling me between my legs. I writhed in the stirrups but Strauser dismissed my discomfort. I was, after all, a subject of their test, an extension of property, and so I had to endure whatever they needed to get from me. I had little say in what was to happen now, beyond anything for my own health. This however, wasn't a concern right now. When the speculum came to its maximum depth, I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. It was too pre-emptive though. Strauser began to twist the screw that slowly but surely spread apart my walls. I groaned and whimpered as though it were Foster mounting me, not some cold steel, and a hot flush spread through my body. The heat that had once swelled in my loins came back with more intensity as my lips were spread apart, cool air rushing in and breezing against the inner walls. I could feel the contractions trying to clench down on the metal, but they simply weren't strong enough, of course, but the sensation wasn't at all dulled. The fire spread up through my belly and began to pool through my torso, leaving me clutching at the bed sheets as all these pleasures and pains engulfed me all at once. Foster just nuzzled my grimacing face, soothing me as best he could.

Click went the recorder,

"Subject appears to be incredibly flexible and accommodating, an improvement upon the rigidity of subject forty-two through five. Subject forty-six appears capable of stretching to greater lengths. With natural use, I predict this will improve tenfold. The sensations also appear to be heightened, proving that the newly implemented genetic reconstruction of the nanomyte gel has succeeded in correctly reconnecting the nervous system of the subject back together. The interior appears to be in good health. I shall now examine further with the vaginoscope."

Clara went back to doing her job, lifting the tube attached to the monitor up and giving it to the Doberman. Whilst still panting from the flurry of activity going on down there, mixed with the tinges of painful throbs, I felt Strauser now poke one end of that thin tube down into me. It slipped in deeper, the tube going further than my finger had and leaving me with an odd cramping sensation. I guess I could now honestly say that as a man, I can sympathise with all the women who undergo this kind of shit with gynaecologists. My ankles dug into the stirrups as Strauser pushed the tube deeper and deeper, flicking on a switch at his end. He turned his attention now to the screen, the monitor partially turned away from me so that I wouldn't get the full blown tour of my inner cunt, but I could get some detail from where I watched. I could feel that tube slide into me, tapping and prodding against walls I never even knew I could ever have. I got a general feeling for how deep into my body this thing went, sensing the new structures inside me. I was growing used to it, I'll admit, but it really was horrendously more intense than I had expected it to be. Sure, Clara had made sure I was aware that it was going to be a big transition, but I just thought things would parallel. You know, like if I rub my clit it'd just be like jacking off, that getting fucked up the ass would be pretty much the same as taking it in the pussy, but apparently I was being proven wrong.

"The uterus appears to be quite healthy. Dare I say, it even rivals that of a normal female's womb; subject forty-six's new modified treatment shows signs of potential impregnation via in vitro fertilisation. I suggest the next stage of testing to include analysis into the possibility of fertility with subject forty-seven." The camera was pulled somewhat carelessly back out of my vagina and put to one side. As I felt the Doberman's paws begin to wind down the screw for the speculum, I breathed slowly, letting myself get swept with relief that whole ordeal was finally over, my body juddering if only just a bit when he slid the metal prongs out of my opening, leaving me to bask in the coldness of the lube still dripping from my lips. He cleaned me, as any gentlemen should really if he's made a mess down there - Foster certainly always seemed keen on that front - and then my legs were released from the stirrups. I rubbed my calves to massage out the cramping muscles, turning my attention to Strauser. His last comment had piqued my interest, frankly because of our conversation back before the procedure rang clear now,

"Doctor? Would it be possible for me to ever get pregnant without IVF? Like, if Foster were to... er..."

"If he were to fuck you, Monty?" Strauser asked dryly, "If he fucked you full of wolf seed in your new pussy? I have no time for eloquence. If you want to ask, just ask. Don't bother dressing it up for me. I only do that for the higher-ups." My kind of guy then.

"Right, so, what if Foster does fuck me and unloads inside me... could I get pregnant?"

"Highly unlikely; whilst we've so far nearly perfected the overall transition from male to female and vice versa, it's a much trickier challenge trying to adapt two testicles to suddenly become ovaries. Modifying whole cells to perform different tasks by regressing them to a stem cell state is easy - somehow modifying one gamete to become a totally different one is not. Anatomically speaking, yes you have ovaries, and yes you'll experience menstruation much like any other female, but what you will be releasing won't be fertile eggs, but excess sperm cells and seminal fluid. The chances your ovaries have managed to suddenly leap the gap is slim." He gave me a small smile, before smirking, "We are trying to conquer the Gods' design after all; we aren't as intelligent as they are in reconstructing the Divinian body."

Fair enough then I suppose. I wasn't entirely sure where I stood on the whole kid thing anyway. I knew sooner or later Foster and I would have to sit down and talk about it, but it hadn't been a prominent thing for us. What with my cancer, there was no time for children, which was a real shame because I know I want to be a dad someday just as much as I know Foster does, but it was just the worst moment. Besides, it would have been unfair on both the kid and my husband to just adopt somebody in a rush if we planned ahead. Not only would Foster have to then try and cope with looking after a child all on his own whilst dealing with grief, but then the poor kid would be traumatised right from the word 'go'. To now hear that the very operation which had now given me the equipment to have a kid, only to hear I might not be able to have said kid as naturally as I wanted, was a little disheartening, I'll admit. I also knew the other cons the doctor hadn't informed me about that Clara had. Due to the weak, semi-artificial lining of the womb, there was no guarantee that even IVF would work. Its odds were reduced down from the low number they were already at, so it didn't bode well.

But bearing a baby wasn't the important thing right now. The cancer, however, was.

Strauser had already left without so much as a goodbye or get well soon. Not that I cared really. For as much as a professional expert as he was, I wasn't a fan of his attitude half the time. Clara stuck around though, losing that air of clinical distance and putting back on that cheery smile which could always brightened anyone's day.

"So..." she grinned, "Everything's gone great! I'm so proud of you, Monty! I reckon you'll be discharged tonight once Strauser's happy there's nothing else to worry about."

"What about my prostate? How soon until I can get it checked out?" What with stuff still recuperating down there, there was gonna have to be some downtime to let things settle before I had another stranger shove his finger up my butthole and prod at the inner sweet spot - or at least, whatever it was now. I hoped it was still a prostate, just very much cancer-less this time around.

"Oh, I'd say leave it for a month... I mean, it's not ideal, I get that, but the project gets very possessive over its subjects. At least one month of recovery time is mandated before you start seeking medical attention externally in regards to your genitals. You signed the contract so... rules are rules, I'm afraid." She shrugged her shoulders. I knew her paws were tied. All of ours were. For the next year or so, I was to be under near enough constant surveillance by Genus. Not that they'd put up cameras in every nook and cranny of my home to spy on me, but it was something the lioness had gone over practically in the first week of signing onto the project. My daily activities were to be monitored, my food intake calculated and energy expended, just that sort of thing. Thankfully, they managed to oversee the majority of what I did via this cute little bangle they'd given me which attached to my wrist, keeping a check on all sorts of things I didn't even realise needed checking - or that you could check them. The rest, such as mental experiences, emotional moods, physical sensations that can't be tracked by technology, I would have to report back to Clara on weekly visits to see how I was getting on. We'd gotten used to the routine anyway, where she'd come round for coffee and we'd end up spending about ten minutes box ticking and talking about any anomalies before we put aside all the paperwork and just gossip. Foster wasn't much for what he dubbed 'girlfriend talk', something he'd put up with back when he'd been dating girls. He was the guy, and I was the girl. We'd always worked perfectly that way. I guess now we were that way.

"How long until he can, you know... have sex?" Foster was speaking, looking to Clara. It was an honest enough question. We didn't mind sharing with her because she always had a way of weaselling it out of us eventually. She was like the sister neither of us had.

"Well... officially, I'm supposed to give you the same whole month bullshit. But when you feel ready, take it slowly, and let me know immediately the day after."

"So you can make sure nothing's been damaged or broken?" I queried. She just smiled,

"Hell no, girl! I wanna know all the juicy details!" We all laughed again; I really needed these laughs. It felt like I'd been wound up so tightly these past few weeks that I'd run over humour and left it die as a tiny speck in my rear view mirror. Foster and I shared an elated look between us. It felt like things were on the up. I don't know why, but it felt like this had done the trick. That although I'd just had my anatomy changed in the most intimate and absolute of ways, I still felt confident that I was gonna live. Call it intuition, a hunch perhaps, but I guess the best way of putting it was that I had a gut feeling - ironic, I know.

Of course, it wasn't until a few minutes later that my new plumbing started acting up.

"I have to pee." I suddenly declared, promptly causing Clara to chuckle.

"You know it's a hell of a lot different than from when men do it, honey?" She said, fetching a bedpan, "No more standing up for you."

I couldn't help but blush in embarrassment as I relieved myself for the first time into the pan. It felt weird not having it come out of a flexible hose that made for easy clean-up. I just yipped at the odd sensations as Clara ran me through a crash course of cleaning myself down there, knowing now that this was happening, and I was in for a hell of a ride...

~ ~ ~

We tried to take Clara's sneaky advice to take things slow the first time. But you know... things don't always work out the way you plan them to.

It had barely been a week since I'd been discharged, unfortunately having to stay the night just to satisfy the Doberman's paranoia over my condition. I had gone to sleep that day excited and pumped that tomorrow I'd be finally home and no longer stuck in some terrifying hospital-like clinic. I'd had such vivid dreams, all of them revolving around my new organs, some of them bad, some good, but overall a mixed bag. I'd woken up a little nervous that I'd be back home and away from the safety of the clinic. It might have been scary, but at least I knew that if something started going wrong down there I'd have a fast response and resolution. At home, I didn't have that luxury. I had Foster, sure, but he's no doctor. He works on a building site, not a hospital floor.

Slowly as the morning rolled on, they'd removed all the wires and tubes fitted to me one by one, until finally I looked like I was no longer some lab experiment hooked up to all their machines. Once I was free to move about, I'd stretched my legs and regained rotary functions so I wasn't a stumbling mess when Foster came. But by the Gods, I was so happy when he did show up. He'd taken the afternoon off to pick me up and take me home, following a week of holiday for him that he'd saved for just such an occasion. I felt surprisingly spry when he'd rounded the corner of my room, entering in through the doorway with a duffel bag of clothes for me. I was tempted to jump into his arms, but I doubt the grumpy Doberman would have been thrilled about that. I settled for your typical tackle - attacking from the front before he had chance to counter me. I was kissing him before he even knew. He didn't stand a chance.

The next few days had been slow going. The first problems I ran in to was the whole getting used to the pussy being there. Often I forgot for a split second that I'd have to sit down, warranting me to make do this mad hobble spin on the spot before sitting on the toilet, but I was getting the hang of it, I felt. So far there had been no signs of any periods. I didn't really know when to expect the first one, but Clara said that when I got my first one - the heaviest, apparently - that she'd help me prepare for the next and get onto the monthly cycle until it'd just be second nature. I hoped to high heavens it would, because I don't think I could deal with forgetting one time not to plug myself up down there only to find my crotch seeping blood. What was the biggest thing that I had to get used to was the whole sensation of it all... Showering and bathing gave me excellent opportunities tobecome more aware of what stuff was like down there, and I'd be remiss if I didn't come clean and admit to having a getle rub, fondle, and grope at times when I was alone, just out of curiosity. It was still so weird, like I was never going to get used to this, but I just had to calm myself down, count to ten, and tell myself it was all for the best. It was fun though, I'll admit... Having a second hole to play around with opened up a world of opportunities. I couldn't wait to try out some of my smaller toys on my pussy when I'd moved up from my fingers. Hell, I couldn't even wait to feel Foster in there... Also, unlike a dick, I'd had a sheath which kept everything hidden and tidy. I wouldn't get much arousal from my junk rubbing up against my clothes, but now with a cunt down there, it was like every step was the equivalent of having Foster grope me, one finger deep inside. Often at times it was so bad, wearing the uncomfortable clothes I'd bought that were designed with men in mind, that I could just about shuffle or wobble my way around the house. Foster had said it was funny, that I looked like one of those dolls where the limbs don't bend. I'd had to change my wardrobe up, so shopping for new clothes was the second concern. Both of us stood rather awkwardly in the women's section looking through underwear until some understanding clerk came over to help us. Though I left with my face blazing with embarrassment, I did have some comfy panties that didn't make me want to itch my crotch like fuck as the boxers did. So much for just carrying over with the same underwear... I was a bit apprehensive about wearing women's clothes. Something about it still felt a little out of place, but when getting home and modelling a few pairs for Foster, he told me I looked even hotter than before. Again, my face was burning, but not from embarrassment this time.

It was so hard keeping our paws off of each other. I could tell all he wanted to do was rip off my clothes and mount me whenever we passed each other about the house, him getting a heady whiff of my new virile scent, and new hormones in me kicking into overdrive and begging me to just present myself to him already, but we were good. Honestly, I was shocked we even made it five days until the tension was just too much.

That, I guess then, brought us to now.

Me, pinned against a wall, him, sucking at my neck, forming tender love-bites all along my nape. His paws clasped my wrists in his grip, holding them up above my head whilst his crotch ground into mine. So much for taking it slow and gentle; we'd planned it out for the weekend, knowing it'd be a time where both of us were off and Clara was just a phone call away on the emergency line. A nice romantic home cooked meal, then some crappy chick flick film whilst we snuggled, followed by enough glasses of wine to loosen us up into some cheesy teenage make-out session on the couch.

We'd barely made it past the first glasses of wine.

I guess the scents and musk were just too much to ignore. I probably smelt like something exotic and dreamy to him now, not like the former manly guy he used to bed. Plus, according to Clara, I was a virgin in my new hole, so I had that to look forward to, except minus the breaking of the hymen since it was all healed up. I feel his every breath upon my body, so much hotter than before. It felt like there was a burning need writhing under my skin and there was no other way to let it out except to clutch his body close to mine. I moaned a fair deal more than I usually did. It's just that every touch he made was electric, sending tingling zaps of pleasure all over me. It concentrated down in my lions the most, something I was to expect apparently. Together we fumbled our way to the bedroom, barely making it up the stairs before we were latched together again, passionately kissing. He was always a dominant guy, but it felt so much more intense. His tongue invaded my muzzle and greedily explored, duelling my own tongue into submission and towering over me. He buffed out his chest, wrapping his thick arms around my torso and holding me close. I could only grope at his back and firm buttocks, whimpering into him like a needy kit.

We hastily pulled our clothes off as he stumbled into the bedroom, me plopping down onto our king size bed and propped up on my elbows. I watched him saunter in, in true manly style, as he peeled off the fancy shirt he'd worn for all of a few minutes, letting his whole body ripple as the years of outdoor construction paid their dues. I swallowed as he approached, unbuckling his large belt and then undoing his jeans, letting the heavy material slump to the floor before stepping out of them. He always left me hot and bothered, with a dick or pussy. I would do anything for him when he was like this. Bearing a mighty looking jockstrap with a bulge that contended with a breeding stud, he stood over me, placing one knee at my hip before lowering himself over me. His whole frame blotted out the light, leaving me with his silhouette hanging over me, his muzzle mere inches from mine, his musk almost swallowing my every sense as I squinted to see his features.

He returned to kissing me, slower this time as though savouring it, biting at my lip playfully as his paws slid across my body. His hot body, smothered in the richest of brown and grey fur, lingered over mine, never for one second forgetting that every essential part of him was just the tiniest of distances away from my own, waiting for the all clear before he descended on me and ravished me like I'd been longing for after all this time of being chaste. That impossible feeling of being overwhelmed was slithering its way up through my body, coupled with blissful warmth that started down below, working its way up. This kind of overwhelming I always loved. Foster always made my heart race, moaning softly as we kissed, his bulge rubbed along where mine would have been had I still had it. I thought I might have missed having something there, but he was right. It did look kinda hot. I'd seen myself in the mirror a few times and the slimmer looking physique was definitely a good look for me. There was just something about it that made it feel so sublime just seeing my chest slide across my abdominals and then down to a smooth crotch.

Foster began to pull off my top; I lifted up my arms as he tugged the shirt away, leaving me bare-chested. A side effect I'd found and undoubtedly would have to relate back to Clara was that my nipples had become much more sensitive. I felt one of the wolf's paws slide across a nub and there and then my back was damn well arching as I groaned some deep guttural noises. It was like a whole new side of me had just been unlocked, unleashed for my husband to toy and play with. Not that I was complaining. It was fun learning all the new ways he could pleasure me - and I, him.

He went for my skinny jeans next. I know understood how some women could feel hard pressed to find suitable clothing that didn't either sexualise them or appear to be too tacky. I wasn't about to start getting into any heated arguments over what looks best with them because all I was looking was something that reflected men's styles in a unisex way so I didn't seem that much out of place. I didn't have the confidence to gallivant around in full drag like some men do - though my hat goes off to them. Foster brought me back to attention when he finally had the zipper undone, and was sliding down my pants. I sashayed my hips to help him, the extra touch of femininity helping to let them slip right off. Gods, it felt good like this... his naked body against my own, only a thin lacy pair of lingerie and a musky jockstrap between us. It wasn't too far gone from what I'd normally wear for our romps. We'd pretty much knuckled down to what really floated our boats. For him, it was the innocent, sexy boy submitting to daddy, and for me, it was the beefy, sweaty male overpowering his bitch. Call us old fashioned, but we were stuck to that porno cliché like glue. I can't help it. It's what got my motor running.

I felt him grind that throbbing bulge against the lace panties I'd bought especially for tonight. I let out a strangled moan of sheer ecstasy when the rough fabric grazed along my pussy through the lace. Fucking hell... that was intense, it took me like a second just to regain my senses. Jolts of bliss were sparking from down there, already I could feel a wetness seeping at the underwear. I hoped I hadn't pissed myself or something... I was still getting used to the whole mechanics of it, and occasionally something liked to fuck up my day just because. I broke off the kiss, figuring it'd be best to come clean and mop myself up, maybe even lay down a towel or something,

"Foster..." he nibbled along my neck, "Foster, wait..." I had to push him back, him sitting back on his haunches in a semi-kneeling position, me sitting up. He looked worried, thoughts of mounting me put to one side,

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"I think I just wet myself." I said, trying to fight off the rising feeling of shame in him chest. I took a lot of self-control to keep myself in check. He just looked at me bemused, then laughed,

"Oh sweetheart, getting wet's the best part..." he reached down a paw to my crotch, cupping my groin in his big grasp, rubbing a finger along the outline of my slit. I shuddered, mouth open in a silent gasp as he stroked his middle finger along the soaked lips, the lace panties almost definitely ruined by now, "You've not pissed yourself, trust me. You're just horny..."

He just leant back and let him caress my cunt through the underwear, huffing and panting like I was having sex for the first time ever all over again. I practically was, if I looked at it that way. Foster was kind enough to just let me relish the sensations, helping me to explore my newfound body, keeping to the outside of the underwear for the time being until I'd acclimatised,

"Oooh... fuck..." I growled, gritting my teeth as I thrust my hips forward a little further into his huge paw. I needed one of his thick fingers inside me... I needed it so bad.

"See baby?" He cooed, shuffling a little closer and drawing my body into his, my forehead resting against his shoulder, "Feels good, don't it?"

"Y-yeah..." I stammered, my whole being quivering against his. He decided to kick it up a notch. I felt his paw slide further upwards, then those fingers snuck under my panties. His fingers slipped along my wet lips and began to rub there ever so gently. I whimpered against him, but he just held me close with his other arm, rubbing soft circles in my back whilst the other swirled a fingertip in my juices,

"There you go... How's that feel?"

How's that feel? It's kinda hard to sum up into words. The only way I could probably put it into terms he'd understand is if I compared it to stroking a dick. You'd think it'd be the same principle, like one stroke of a cock is pretty much the same to one rub of a pussy. At least, that's what I've always led myself to believe. I've never really challenged that belief though because women never interested me. But now I'd experienced both sides of the same coin, and I had to say so far I was more enjoying what was happening now than what I was used to. It boggled my mind as to why it was like that. Maybe it was just because it's a second opening and therefore heightened senses than just a rod I can whack all day if I want to, or probably because my genitalia is pretty much brand spanking new, so anything compared to the previous model is going to feel astonishing. But to put it into words... it's like jacking off your dick, in a warm, wet glove that goes at a steady and fast pace, never stopping whatsoever until you feel your ball seize up, ready to cum and then... it keeps you there on that edge forever. That's what it felt like now, and I should know because Foster's kept me there once or twice back when I had a member. But yeah... fairly mind-blowing.

"Ready for more?" I could only nod, putting my weight against his broad chest, and I felt him start to push his middle finger in between my lips. I moaned quietly, feeling my cunt open up to welcome him, his digit sliding deeper and deeper until he'd settled his finger all the way in. I could feel the others still cupped around my lips, his middle finger pressed in as far as it would go. I just savoured the feeling of having something fill me up, even if it was just a single digit. It was enough to send my tail rigid, my body quaking, and my mind reeling at the sensation. He just held it there whilst I panted, my paws groping at his body, clutching him as though for dear life whilst I rode through the onslaught of pleasures. I hope I'd get used to it all fairly soon, as just the foreplay was exhausting. If I was gonna take him tonight, I'd need to be much more collected than this.

I focused on my breathing, trying to not zone in on the meaty finger that penetrated my vagina, breathing with slow and meticulous breaths. I let my heart slow down, my body no longer buzzing with overexcited nerves, and I began to relax. Foster's stroking helped, soothing me until I was down to an acceptable level of calm.

"Holy fuck..." My voice was barely raised above a whisper, but we both laughed all the same. He must have known how hard it was for me, this transition. Clara hadn't been lying when she said to take it slow.

"Feels good, huh?" He began to move his finger back and forth ever so slightly, maybe pulling out an inch slowly before reinserting it. I gritted my teeth and interpreted the sensations, the dry finger pushing against my sensitive walls, slowly working into the motions he made. After a while, I began to feel at ease, grunting as he slipped in a second finger when he felt I was ready. I just rocked against his paw, as though riding his fingers as though I was on some kind of saddle. He nuzzled my head as he did, softy licking my cheek affectionately whilst I warmed up. I knew he was raring to go, but he was patient, fabulously so.

He was about to add a third finger, but I pulled off of him. I wasn't quite ready to just stretch myself beyond my limits just yet. I lifted my head off of his nape and gave him a sheepish smile,

"Lean back and close your eyes." He smirked, looking amused by the request, "Just do it."

The hulking wolf leant back as he was told, leaving me to run my paws all across his chest. Gods, I loved him so much, knowing I had every part of him loyal to me. I'd do anything for him, though I'm sure I must have touched upon that already. I sunk my fingers into his thick pelt, feeling the denseness of his chest fur and running down the cute treasure trail of black that marked a line cutting down from his pectorals, over his abs, and slinking off down below the waistband of his jockstrap and into the bulging pouch. I followed the line with my paws, skimming over his fur and just finally taking the moment to bask in the physical closeness we had. I'd spent the first night in the guest bedroom in case anything bad happened whilst asleep, and I had planned to go it a second night in there, but it was too much knowing he was a door away. We'd cuddled, sure, but anything beyond that had been so far off limits. Spooning, massages, all those cheeky gropes as we pass each other in the house; I'd missed it all, and now I finally was getting access back. He growled softly to himself as he felt me stroke across his front, scratching at his belly before I went for the grand prize. I shuffled into position on the bed, putting myself onto all fours and preparing to do his favourite little tease.

When we'd first started dating, I'd quickly learnt he liked someone who could improvise in bed and be just as innovative and raunchy as he could, without overstepping any marks. One thing I'd shown him that I could do then was a trick I learnt off my roomie back in college. He had been dating one of the jocks at the time from the year above, and had made my friend remove his underwear using nothing but teeth and muzzle alone. I'd quickly picked up the skill, and Foster was a huge fan. I could hear his tail thumping against the bedspread as already he was antipicating what was to come. Though, like a good dog-wolf, he kept his eyes shut and didn't peek as I leant my head down real close to his crotch. The heat coming off of him was incredible, and I found myself becoming oddly delirious. Sure, I'd been aroused whenever I'd gone to lap at Foster's manhood, but it had never been this intoxicating. I inhaled his scent in a long, slow draw of breath, shuddering as I exhaled the potent musk. It had me squirming, my loins charged with a fiery heat that needed some kind of attention more. I reached forward and plucked at the waistband with my teeth, taking it firmly in my jaw and then sliding it down. Foster growled happily, tail wagging even harder as his member sprung free, slapping me across the face. I whined softly, feeling the hot meat fall onto my cheek, resting to a stop just over my muzzle. I looked up to see it, staring down at me and dripping with pre. It made my mouth just water looking at it. Foster was the eldest of his brothers, and so it didn't come as a surprise that he packed the biggest punch downstairs. He'd told me about the stuff he and his brothers used to do stupidly when they were young like compare sizes. He, according to him at least, shot them out of the water.

I lifted my head up and took a hold of his cock in both paws, rising up into a kneeling position that near enough mirrored his. It felt so searing hot in my paws, already slick and desperate for some action. I will admit, he wasn't as long as a horse I'd dated back in high school, but he was by sure the thickest I'd ever taken. Excluding the knot, his fist-thick cock was always a challenge. Part of me was concerned that with the new equipment I might not be able to take him. Though Strauser had said I was stretchy... and I was sure as hell going to try at least. His knot though was his pride and joy, and my best friend. It was nearly double as fat as the rest of his shaft, and it'd only get bigger once it swelled. Foster was one of those guys who went beyond what was even deemed large for his species. He rarely bragged about it, except to me, but he kept it under wraps so as to not intimidate others, which I thought was considerate of him. That didn't stop me from gloating to Clara though when she'd asked about our sex life - the conversation had turned to his size anyway as she had to know for medical reasons. Suffice to say the sound of her jaw hitting the table was music to my ears. Beneath this entire monstrosity though were those two, plump, swollen orbs that hadn't seen much relief for days. I rolled them about in one paw whilst I held his dick aloft in the other as otherwise it just weighed down from its mass. They felt ready to burst. Who was I to deny him that? I was his husband after all.

I leant down once again, ass raised into the air, as I opened my muzzle delicately, sliding his tip over my tongue and into my mouth. He grunted in wanton need, his paws clutching at his ankles as he held himself back from bucking into me. I had no concerns over him using my muzzle roughly if he wanted. That wasn't the part of me that was new. I'd been giving him blowjobs for years.

His member was so slick and delicious, coated in a fine smear of rich, creamy pre. I'd missed his taste on my tongue, and I found myself greedily taking down more and more without any suspenseful build up. Though I don't think Foster even noticed. He was just happy to have his hubby's mouth wrapped around his dick once more. I had never ever been able to take the knot orally, at least not at full hardness like he was now, so I just let as much of his member slide into my throat as was possible, the swelling orb pressing against my stretched lips when he 'bottomed out'. He just groaned loudly, drawing out the sound as he felt my gullet convulse over his length. I expertly worked my tongue around his shaft, sucking and sliding it as he started to move back and forth. It was time for me to return the favour for the astounding fingering earlier. I had him whimpering not before long, one paw reaching up to squeeze and tug on his nuts just the way he liked to set him on edge, the other reaching back to give myself a quick stroke.

My paw stopped just as it was sliding down the contours of my stomach. I didn't have one to stroke anymore, did I? I suppose then... I could take the chance to have a little play with myself during an actual sexual encounter, as Clara's had to put it so eloquently for the past several weeks. I slipped my paw instead in past the panties, and I let my finger feel for the wet entrance as I felt Foster's paw give in and take a firm hold of my head. He began to pull my head into his cock by himself, leaving me to simple deliver an expert service whilst I rubbed one out - not that I knew how. They hadn't given me an instruction manual on all the neat tricks and tips. I might have to go online later and research, so I don't fall into this kind of situation again, should this go well. I let my fingertip slide over my clit, which now poked its way through at the top of my pussy, hardened much like my dick might have been, only it was much smaller and a little harder to play with. It's like going from being able to write with a pen to suddenly switching to just the broken nib of a pencil. I persisted though, and soon found that if I made grinding circular motions into it, I could have myself getting week at the knees and watering like crazy whilst I swallowed down Foster's cock. It was no problem at all to take his size, though my jaw naturally ached from the exertion, but we'd since worked past the whole gag reflex, something which he always used to the fullest. I moaned around his shaft as it slammed into my muzzle, balls tapping at my chin whilst both his paws took a hold of either side of my face. I had to do little but simply keep my position whilst Foster fucked my mouth, occupying myself with sending tingles all across my abdomen by exploring my own cunt.

I had thought he'd just spew a load down my muzzle and leave it for a short while before starting up round two, but Foster pulled out just as I believed we were entering the final stretch. Out of breath and looking flustered, he took my chin and tipped my face up to look at his, pre and spittle matting the fur about my mouth,

"Hey... I wanna treat you to something..."

I was intrigued. What was it that he had for me? Maybe it was a new toy, perhaps a purposefully designed dildo for women, considering I could now take them instead of just making do with all the anal stuff? Or would it just be some sweet little trinket that probably had little connection to sex except a romantic gesture? I mean, he's sweet and all that, I can't deny, but he sometimes has the worst timing. He proposed to me at a restaurant whilst I was in the middle of eating. It took me about five minutes just to chew and swallow before I could answer him. He'd been nervous, bless him. He'd panicked and just bottled it, whipping the ring out right in the middle of the main course. Still, my answer had and forever will be yes.

"Lie back down on the pillows and lift your legs up..."

Now he had me curious. I slumped back onto the bed, reclining against the assorted pillows congregating up at the head, and laid myself back down against them. Obediently, I lifted my legs up into the air for him. His paws reached out and slid under my bum, picking at the panties' waistband and slipping them off, removing them off my legs and then putting it to his nose. He was such a dirty wolf; I blushed profusely as he took a big whiff of my new scent, eyes glowering in lust,

"Fuck babe... you smell so damn good..."

I didn't know what to say in response to that. Thanks? I was still getting used to the odd smells too now, and it had become practically ritual that I wash down there to try and avoid all the bad smells Clara had warned me about if I wasn't careful. I mean, a yeast infection sounded awful, and I had no idea what the symptoms were! More research, I suppose...

Foster lowered his weight down until he was lying flat upon his gut, his head coming up in between my thighs, my legs hanging over his shoulders. I just lay there as I felt him crawl up, looking down at him upon my elbows as he brought his muzzle to my sex. I could feel every pant, huff, and wheeze rush over my lips, his face so close to pushing against me down there. He took a tentative sniff, inspecting his new property, before I watched him extend that leathery, wet tongue and slide it up against my lips. I groaned, arms spreading out beside me and paws clinging to the sheets as he proceeded to slather his tongue all around my labia. If I wasn't already aroused by now, as silly as that was to even suggest, then I certainly was now as he swirled just the tip of his tongue around my hood, teasing out the clit and leaving me with shallow breaths. To receive anything oral off him was an uncommon occurrence, but whenever I was lucky enough to be rimmed or get a blow, he was good at what he did. But this was a whole new level. From what he'd told me, he'd dated more girls than he had guys, so finally I was getting to see a more experienced side of him. It took me all my reserve not to just push down hard with my legs and shove his muzzle up close to me as far as it would go.

I let off quite effeminate groans, ones which surprised even me, but it only seemed to spur him on. His ears were pricked up, attentive to the sounds I made which seemed to direct him whichever way he went. When he made a flick with his tongue against my clit, I moaned loudly, to which he looked up at me and repeated the action, earning him the same, wall-shaking moan. Only being able to look down at him, peering up across from my crotch, muzzle lapping at my folds, it was a sordid sight for me to see. My whole body was shivering from the passion that seared up along my spine, begging him to go deeper, and he didn't fail to please. After a while long of just teasing my lips, he took it a step further and pushing his tongue into the sweeter depths. Warm breath wafted against my exposed box, the sensation driving me crazy at it seemed to billow in a cloud of pleasure inside him with each huff. I felt him slide in maybe an inch or less of that rasping muscle, hearing him groan softly as he ate me out. He had always been a messy eater, always keen to let me know that he was enjoying himself - if I strained to look over his shoulder, I could see he'd rolled over to one side slightly, his free paw that wasn't caressing my thigh was instead stroking at his sopping length. The time was getting closer and closer for that thing to enter me, and whilst it was still a terrifying thought, the momentum of lust was carrying me faster towards it. No matter how scary it seemed, I wanted this. I whimpered extra loud, eyes slid shut in the grip of ecstasy, as he got me ready for the night I would absolutely never forget.

A new, odd sensation rose in my gut. I didn't understand it at first, but the heat that I had felt burning away since we'd scrapped our dinner plans for the evening as arousal took over now picked up in heat. At first, I just deemed it to be higher pleasures, that he was doing something incredibly good down there as he tongue-fucked my vagina, but it grew hotter and hotter still, mounting up just under my abdomen. That's when my panic started to kick in as I kept my mind zeroed in on the sensation, worrying that maybe something was going disastrously wrong within me. I placed a paw over where the heat should have been, but my body was relatively normal, despite its shudders of pleasure. But something felt distinctly different, writhing about as this heat continued to build, Foster glancing up to see my distress. For a moment, I believed he would stop, ask what's wrong, but he just redoubled his efforts and plunged a little deeper, paw slipping down to join his muzzle and stroke at my clitoris. I began to give off strained yaps, moaning and trying to tell him to stop, but I couldn't. The warmth grew and grew until I could barely stand it, and then it just kept going. Finally, in one, quick flourish, the heat boiled over and suddenly it was flooding my body. I was groaning in ecstasy as it had the same feeling of when I'd climax with a dick, only lacking the mess. I just bucked my hips against Foster's face whilst I rode out the sensation, the orgasm riding through my body in wave after wave, clenching my eyes shut. The ripples came slower and slower eventually, but it still took me several minutes of panting and lying there blankly until I felt it was safe enough to look back up from where I'd ground my body against the bed. Foster had a big grin on his face, still slurping every so often at my cunt,

"So... how was your first orgasm?"

"Intense... that was... outstanding." I said between pants, recovering my strength, "Better than with a dick." He smirked, rolling his big green eyes at me,

"Debateable."

Was that it though? We both knew my stamina was only as strong as my ability to hold off from cumming. Were we to just clean up now and call it a day? I actually wanted to do more. That was a first for me, wanting to continue even after just climaxing. I think Foster sensed the new change in me, because he just licked at my pussy one last time before smacking his lips and pulling back,

"Ready for more?" Hell yes I was ready for more.

"Uh-huh..." I nodded my response, words failing me. It's hard to talk when all that's on your brain is 'just fuck me already' mixed with 'this is going to hurt'. As much as I expected the agony - if not today then definitely tomorrow - I was prepared to take it in my stride. Besides, I'd lost my virginity to my brother's best friend and he was by no means on the small side. I could do it again, only I was giving myself away to the man I'd married. This was, for some, a dream come true. I had to face the issue sooner or later anyway. No use just pushing off the inevitable.

Watching Foster kneel up onto the bed, taking a hold of my ankles and pulling my legs up and out of the way, sent me into a nervous state. Sure, this was thrilling and amazing, but it was also very scary. It wasn't like I'd been born to naturally do this. Anything could go wrong - it was an experimental thing after all. Something might tear, my nerves might have been reconnected wrong, something might begin to fail... I don't know. I didn't say a word though. It was probably best just to assume everything was okay and was going to continue being okay, and that I was just acting stupid. Breathe in, and out...

He loomed above me once more blocking the light and leaving me stare up at him from my place amongst the pillows. Whilst he had one paw grabbing my leg, levering it away to expose my snatch to him, he had the other stroking his dick. He rubbed the head of his cock around my lips, letting me get a sense of what he felt like against my new flesh. It felt much hotter than a tongue, much more solid and hard. Of course I guess that was to be expected, but unlike my ass it was a much sharper sensation. Like, I could describe everything in better detail than I could if he was taking me up my rear. He circled there for perhaps just half a minute, letting me adjust and brace for it all, then he pushed in gingerly, sliding just the head of his member in between my folds. We both gasped at the feeling, him fucking a cunt for the first time in ages - one belonging to his hubby, no less - and me having my first cock up my pussy. He angled his body over mine, so that my hips were raised slightly, and he let gravity and weight work in tandem to push himself into me more fully. I felt myself open up around him, grunting in slight discomfort whilst he inched his way inside. Part of me, had this been anal, would have told him to stop, but I realised that for the first few minutes of this; I wasn't going to be getting much pleasure. I just gritted my teeth as he became enrapt in his own world for a brief moment, sinking his length inside until his knot kissed my lips. I felt stuffed full, a much more unusual sensation as this was now coming in at a different angle through alternative anatomy. Gone was my ability to just take and take all that Foster had to give. I was now limited to what this new structure allowed, and he just held himself there, panting, whilst I rode through the discomfort looking for the pull-off to something more pleasant. He noted my grimace, leaning down carefully to lick my cheek,

"I know it hurts now babe, but just wait it out."

I did wait it out. I had little choice else. I trusted him to know that this wasn't some permanent soreness, but it sure felt like it was going to be that way. I don't know how long he patiently left it until my pained frown descended to nothing but a more neutral soured look, but he waited all the same. When he felt I was ready to start putting some movement into things, he began to pull back. I felt every inch slide within me, drawing upon my walls and making me clench down involuntarily. It didn't hurt him much - if anything he appeared to like me contracting about his dick - and he pulled his hips back until his tip played once again with my now stretched opening. Giving me little time to close up, he pushed back down again and rolling forwards, letting me get reacquainted with his member. I groaned as again I spread out, contorting to fit his shaft, and letting my head fall back as I felt those spikes of pain with needle pricks of pleasure shoot up my spine. Whilst the ache was much more muted than the initial entry, it was by no means that drastically better. It was more tolerable, I supposed. If this was going to trend like that, then maybe after a couple of thrusts I'd be moaning alongside him.

He repeated the motion again, but it still seemed just as uncomfortable as before. Though whilst I would enjoy the sensation of him widening my love tunnel - my lady love tunnel, that is, not the one behind - it felt good for the first three to five inches, which made up about a third or a quarter of his length depending on which way you looked at it. When it got past that halfway mark, that's when things became fur-raising. Though my method of just wincing and breathing through it all seemed to be working for the most part, helping divert the pain away if I just focused my mind on relaxing and slowing my thumping heart rate down. It was the same trick I'd done with Grant when he was drunk at my brother's twentieth and I'd managed to get cornered alone with him in my parents' bedroom. Slowly I could feel the dull pains die down, but it was taking some real hard concentration, trying to think more on Foster breeding me than my guts being wrenched open.

I put up with the slow rhythmic fucking for a couple of minutes more, though honestly it could have been longer for all I knew, I was too busy doing the aforementioned breathing and wincing. It was only when I began to focus back on Foster sliding deep into me that I realised it actually wasn't that bad, improving greatly upon the first few fucks. I found myself drifting away from the aches and moving more to softened, lingering jolts of heat. Once I was happy that I'd no longer be grinding my jaw to wave off the pain, I opened my eyes slowly, looking up at the mammoth wolf hunched over my body. He'd shifted from just kneeling straight up to having his whole body weight slamming at mine. His presence smothered my own, bowing his head down so that it was just out of reach of mine, his gusts of straining pants washing across my face and nape. With my footpaws pressed up near to his shoulders upon either side of his head, he bent me over in two, his torso leaning down to lie atop mine; I moaned as I felt him ramming his meat into me over and over again at a punishing force. He'd since moved beyond just a gentle lover and pushed us both towards rutting men, his muzzle seeking out my mouth and bringing me into a greedy kiss. There was little I could do except let him dominate yet another orifice of mine, his cock already plundering my now worked over pussy. All he did was add to the returning warmth that swept through my body, making me moan and writhe beneath his muscled, hairy body. His arms wrapped around me, pushing under my back and holding us even closer together. I knew his intentions, and perhaps had my mind not been clouded by need and desire, I would have thought more rationally and told him, to save it for another time, but we had never gone a night together when fumbling under the sheets had resulted in him tying to my hole. I wasn't about to break that record.

He was grinding his crotch against my own each time he hilted his dick inside me. My cunt, dripping and sliding against his member, felt as though it was sparking with a billion nerves that danced all throughout my abdomen. Usually I would be panting as he stroked my prostate from the inside with his shaft, but despite my hatred towards the cancer he could always work the groans of bliss out of me. Instead now, he was gliding that beautiful meat into my snatch and making every twitch, throb, and pulse have me begging and crying for more. I don't even recall what I shouted out to him, but whatever it had been made him slam into me harder and faster, his knot pumping full of blood and engorging, priming itself for locking itself deep within me. I forgot about all the pain and discomfort of before, thinking back to that video he showed me; I know understood how that cat must have felt, how every fibre in his body felt, as that male had mounted him. It was a feeling beyond anything I'd had before, learning now how the other side felt and gaining a new perspective on things. As my body begin to flare again with those sensations of churning heat that rose and rose in my gut, fuelled by Foster's powerful member, I wrapped my legs around his waist, put my arms around his neck, and pulled him down into me.

There was a few seconds before he finally managed it. He slammed home two more times, edging me wider and wider, me nearly screaming his name, until anatomy took over. As I stretched to the widest part of his firm knot, I felt my hole begin to slip closed over him, drawing him inside and sliding closed. Immediately, his knot swelled to its fullest size, tying him to my pussy and leaving me groaning loudly, gasping and barking all in ecstasy that teetered dangerously upon pain. But I was too far gone to care, writhing against him and clawing at his back, fingers digging into his skin, probably leaving scratch marks. He responded in kind, biting my neck and latching down and hunkering his weight to me, making me moan all the more louder. He gave a few final thrusts of that last inch he could, tapping deep inside me before he started to growl beside my ear, his body shaking with the force until he reached the point of no return. He came by the bucket load, as he always did, and the sensation of getting bred full of hot wolf cum was an entirely different sensation than getting it up the rear. Whilst normally the flood of seed would drain down into my hole, swirling and sinking into my guts until I felt sated and basking in its warmth, in this instance there was little room for the jizz to go. I felt myself fill with potent seed, bloating out my abdomen slightly, plugged by the knot with no place else to go. I squirmed about until it felt like I would burst, his cock pulsing with each shot that never seemed to end. After days of not jacking off, not receiving the helpful blow-job, and without having my body on tap, he unloaded what felt like a week's worth of cum until he just collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily and sweat matting his fur. I just felt that fire ring out inside me and go burning through my body. It spilled into every corner of my body in a wash of euphoria, drowning me in both Foster's heavenly scent and that of eternal warmth and pleasure, my body exhausted and thoroughly used. My crotch was damp from my own fluids and that now of any of Foster's leaking spooge, his rough pubic fur rubbing against my clit, indirectly making me jump and quiver every time he shifted about slightly. He let go of my neck and lapped at the bite he'd made, nuzzling my cheek in the afterglow of a good breeding,

"Oh my fucking Gods..." he panted through staggered breaths, "You were fantastic baby..."

"Likewise stud." I brought him in for a lazy kiss, just relaxing back as we waited for his cock to simmer down. Not that that was gonna happen anytime soon, the way he kept humping me slowly to keep me moaning in soft sighs.

~ ~ ~

After that night, I'd got my first period a week later. It pretty much gave us the all clear that it was okay to go without condoms from now on, as it seemed Strauser was right. I couldn't get pregnant. It was a little disappointing, but at least things were in relatively working order anatomically. When Clara heard the news, amongst other things she managed to wheedle out of me, she informed me that at some point Strauser or Chive would probably want to take further samples for testing, including maybe an egg or two to examine, to see what the problem was, whether it be genetic or physical. It could even be something on Foster's behalf she told me, but they'd only suggest investigating that side of things if the results came back normal.

My first period though... that was a nightmare. For a day or two before it happened, though I was unaware it was creeping up on me at the time, I had been especially crabby. Foster and I had gotten into petty little spats over those days, and when we'd been sitting down to dinner one night I felt my abdomen just begin to contract on its own accord, slightly burning, and then my vagina felt wet and sticky. It had startled the shit out of me, and it took Foster several minutes to calm me down and ring up Clara so she could come help me. I guess I was pretty fortunate I was with a guy who was bisexual. Had he just been straight up gay, I don't think he'd be as cool as he was now. Of course, had he been gay, he might never have fucked me at all. But I would be dishonest if I didn't say he'd bred me practically every other night after letting me recover between breaks. We were just primal nowadays, filled with renewed vigour and desire that surprised us both. It's like we were young hormonal teenagers again, instead of men getting on with a domesticated life.

After a month though, between dealing with real life circumstances like returning to work or family making visits to see how we were doing, I had to go see my doctor - my normal doctor, not the ones at the Genus Project, but the one who'd been seeing me on a regular basis thanks to my lovely prostate. His name was Dr Kimberley, but I'd seen her often enough to just know her by his first name. Allen was a family doctor anyway. He didn't like all the privatised corporate nonsense some people sought from medical professionals. I liked him for that. I liked a guy with integrity for what he believed and refused to compromise.

Now that I think about it, it could have been two or nearly three months since I saw him again. Life wasn't as busy as I'd like to imagine it was, because if I looked back on those passing weeks, I was more terrified of getting the answer I didn't want to hear. I just didn't want to have to know the bad news. Whilst I'd gotten one of the wins from this procedure of having mind-blowing sex with Foster, I was betting too much on getting the same result from the cancer test. The odds weren't exactly stacked in my favour.

I turned up as usual for my appointment. I'd gone alone, and for a very specific reason... but I'll get to that in a minute. Allen was fairly busy. His practice had recently merged with another, and so from what Foster had told me, he'd been forced to deal with a rising influx of new patients. It was a bit hectic in the waiting room as I sat patiently, people-watching around the entire room. There was one lady there with her daughter, trying to keep the poor girl to sit still and not cause a fuss, but that little princess desperately wanted to run around the chairs and pretend to be a rally car. It brought a smile to my face to see kids just being themselves, though the nature of why I was seeing Allen personally and without Foster by my side somewhat had me frowning gloomily. It was a precarious time, and whilst things had been going well in regards to my recovery from the genetic reconstruction, other issues had begun to move into the light.

"Mr Montgomery Ardent?" The receptionist called out into the quiet din of the room. I looked up, rising from my seat, "Dr Kimberley will see you now."

I went through the doors that led down to the doctor's offices. Moving boxes lined one wall of the narrow corridor, piled high, almost certainly chock full of records and other medical documents. I just manoeuvred my way past them and headed down the familiar route to Allen's room, knocking politely on the door before entering. I was greeted by a bland examination space, but smiled when I saw the bright looking raccoon with a greying muzzle look up at me, exclaiming,

"Monty!" He stood up and shook my paw, "Goodness, it's been a while. How're you doing?"

"I'm okay, relatively speaking, given the circumstances." His face darkened, understandably, as the last time I'd seen him, he'd given me the bad news that my cancer was back and it was unlikely to ever go into remission again whatsoever.

"Ah yes... When I found out you'd opted out of chemotherapy, my heart sank. But you seem to be in high spirits!" His face lightened up, as though saving the brooding conversation from descending into just a plain depressive scene. I hadn't told him yet about what I'd done. Breathing in deep, trying to relax for what was to follow, I spoke up again,

"There's something I need to tell you about that..."

I proceeded to inform him about learning of the Genus Project. Though he looked at me with a very confused expression, I tried to explain as best I could what it was, what it had been founded for, and what had been done to me. I must have taken forever to explain it, because it felt like an age to me until my voice was aching and my story coming to an end. Though he looked thoroughly astounded, he kept a cool demeanour,

"So you're anatomically a female in regards to your genitals, but biologically you're a male?" I nodded, saving what was left of my voice for important discussion, "That is most intriguing... I knew they were investigating such methods, but I hadn't realised they'd begun Divinian trials. Would you be offended if I asked to look?"

I didn't respond with words. I just stood up and unbuckled my belt; it's what I was here for anyway, to get my prostate checked out, amongst other things. He whistled when he saw my lack of sheath and balls, "May I feel?"

"Go ahead."

He rolled his chair forwards and lifted my shirt up further to let more light shine across my sex. He let one finger trace the line of labia, stopping at the hood to reveal the clitoris, examining every detail with pinpoint scrutiny.

"It certainly looks authentic and genuine," he remarked, blowing out a huff, "The question is then, I guess, does it work?"

"Sexually speaking, it works perfectly fine. Foster and I found that out plenty of times," I couldn't help but blush, though Allen was much like Clara. He didn't really care for privacy, particularly when it came to people's health, "Whilst I have experienced periods, as far as I know I can't get pregnant." He nodded, as though understanding everything I was saying. He was taking it all in his stride very well. I guess I'd struck out lucky again with having a doctor who got phased by very little.

"Very good... so you underwent the procedure to see if it would eradicate your cancer, is that what you told me?"

"Yeah..." I drawled, scratching the back of my head, "It's why I'm here now really. I want to see if it worked."

"Of course. Well alright, you know the drill. Paws on the desk, put your arse out, and I'll shove my finger up your rear. We do live such glamorous lifestyles, us doctors, don't we?" I laughed. This routine had gotten to the point where Allen had put his finger up my hole enough times to make jokes about it, even rivalling Foster. I did as I was told and bent over, hearing him snap some gloves on and snatch up a bottle of lubricant. It wasn't long before I felt a cold wet finger rub at my hole, "This might be uncomfortable..." He slid right in to the third knuckle, "...but in your case, another day at the office, right?" I chuckled again. He was funny, I'll admit. Although, saying that, since our first night of love making, Foster had opted more for my cunt than he had for my ass. The only time we switched it up was one weekend, where he'd taken my rump first before having me ride him like a cowboy with my pussy. That had been a long, long weekend...

"Well, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary." I felt his fingertip prod the usual spot, my body jumping at the sensation. It had been a while since that had been properly milked by Foster, save for that one time. "But of course, we can't be entirely sure. I'd best take some blood to send off for testing."

He pulled his finger out, offering me a tissue to wipe away the excess lube, and I cleaned myself up. As he prepared a hypodermic needle for me, I decided to broach my ulterior motive whilst I dressed,

"Uh... Allen, when you send off my blood for testing... Could you also ask they look for something else?" He turned to me, face once more confused,

"What is it?"

"Can you test to see if I'm pregnant?"

His jaw dropped, and rightfully so. Even I was shocked to begin to contemplate the fact I was pregnant. I had been under the impression that it was impossible, that something just wasn't quite right down there, but given the number of times me and Foster had fucked long into the night, something must have clicked and worked. My suspicions had risen when I hadn't got my period. Part of me thought maybe I was late, maybe something else had gone wrong down there, but to be sure I'd told Clara I was still feeling annoyed and that I was most likely just experiencing one of those unfortunate periods where it kept me waiting. I'd then gone to a drug store during my lunch break at work and picked myself up a pregnancy test that was recommended me by one of the pharmacist behind the counter under the ruse that it was for my wife. Back in my office toilets, I locked myself in a cubicle when I felt ready to take a leak and then stood awkwardly over the bowl whilst I pissed on the little tab. I can't imagine what the men thought who came into the restroom whilst this was happening, but I couldn't care less. I was too nervous. The result though had come back negative, thus soothing my stress, but naturally paranoia was paranoia; I had to know for definite. Hence what I was asking for now. A proper scientific answer, not just some test I'd bought for fifteen dollars off the shelf.

"I thought you'd said you couldn't conceive?"

"So did I, but my period still hasn't come and I'm worried." It could just be that maybe something had gone wrong down there, as I predicted, but without knowing for certain, I didn't want to report back to Clara with a big 'maybe' and not a certainty. I knew I was gonna get a shit load of grief for it, but I was an independent guy. I could take things into my own paws when it was my body. The Genus Project didn't own me and my free will.

"Alright then, I suppose... I'll have to explain to the boys in the lab about what's happened."

"That's fine, do what you need to do. I don't care."

"Very well..." The middle-aged raccoon scratched his goatee, "You do realise though, due to patients and that the actual test is for PSA, it'll take a while for the test results to come through."

"Okay, just so long as I get them..." I said softly. To be honest, I would have preferred an immediate response, but if I had to wait, so be it. All I wanted really was an answer. Then I could make preparations. My biggest fear was that the response came back positive to both, that I was pregnant and dying... that would be awful. I don't think I could live with myself if I had to abort the child. Forget the cancer; that is what would kill me.

"I'll have the results sent to you direct. I'd just lose the tests in all my paperwork otherwise."

When I returned home, relieved I'd finally gotten that all off my chest, I'd been greeted by the romantic Foster who'd just popped a bottle of wine and was pouring us a glass each. He didn't notice, but after I'd pretended to take a swig of wine I'd spat it back out, dumping the contents in the sink. I had to snog him just to distract him from the fact I wasn't drinking that night, proceeding into one of our raunchy romps where he fucked me bent across the kitchen counter. Whilst I may not have been pregnant, and I could still have terminal status, I didn't want to risk it. Our baby came before his baby, who he had moaning like the bitch that I was.

~ ~ ~

It was just like every other day when I heard the regular clunk of our letterbox opening and today's post getting dropped onto our welcome mat. Foster was drying off from a shower after having blown his load all over his coat from a morning wood special from yours truly, so he was still pretty much nude save for the towel wrapped around his waist as he brushed out the tangles of his thick pelt. I however was enjoying the mess-free luxuries of nothing having my own cock to splurge all over the place, and so only wore a pair of frilly panties and a vest. The wolf had managed to coerce me into buying some more feminine clothing since everything else had looked so good on me and sent his heart pumping - amongst other things. If I was honest, I was enjoying the carefree attitude we were both taking to this change, and so I indulged him, swapping out the bland underwear I before for something a little more accentuating. With him dripping wet and me near enough dressed, I went down to go retrieve the mail. I jogged down the stairs through the house our lives seemed to be growing up in and made my way to the front door. When I spotted the 'private and confidential' stamp on the top letter, my blood ran cold.

As I knelt down and reached for the pile of strewn mail, my paws were shaking with nerves. I didn't dare call Foster or wait for him. I'd waited near enough a month for the results. I couldn't wait any longer. Besides, I needed to know first myself so I could prepare the news for Foster. Strangely, he wasn't that good with bad shit. I mean, for a tough guy like himself, when it came to me he could blubber like a baby.

I tossed the rest of the letters aside onto the kitchen counter and immediately went for the tab that sealed the envelope closed. My heart was racing as I frantically tore through the paper, ripping it with panicked need until I was able to pull the contents out, trembling with apprehension. I disregarded all the menial text, knowing it to just be scientific mumbo jumbo that they had to put in for legal reasons, and sought out the important information. The word I needed to read was in red ink, printed as though to mock me.

It read positive.

Tears just flowed freely as I backed away, not stopping until I was pressed against the wall. The cancer... I knew it... I just fucking knew it...

I slumped down to the floor, sobbing. It wasn't fair... after everything I had gone through, it just wasn't fair. I looked at the other letter, wondering if there was some sour silver lining to my pathetic excuse of a life, but it just read 'negative' - so much for hopes of being an actual biological dad. Looks like I was just another freak of nature, after having gone through so much to lose it all, to not be able to live up to the expectations of everyone around me. I knew from the start that it was probably the longest shot of all time, but I guess I had higher hopes on this that I'd even realised. I wept into my knees, clutching the letter in one whilst the other pounded the floor in anger.

It just wasn't fucking fair!

It just wasn't...

Foster came sprinting down the stairs, still nude and fur all ruffled up, wild fury in his eyes. When he found me crying on the cold kitchen floor like a child, he rushed to my side, big arms wrapping around me, holding me close. I just dropped the foul papers and clung to him, my body wracked with bitter pain and terrified sobs. I didn't want to die... I wanted to live, to grow old with him at my side. I just wanted Foster...

"Honey, baby..." He soothed me; stroking my head and wiping my eyes, making me look into his worried green gaze that just ordered me to be calm, that I was safe, "What's wrong? What's the matter...?

I couldn't answer him properly, sniffling my response between hiccupped sobs,

"The c-cancer... s'back... look..." I pointed to the offending letters, and he picked them up, eyes widening when he realised I'd gone for a pregnancy test,

"Babe... you're pregnant?"

"N-no..." I whimpered, wiping my eyes with the back of my paw, "I thought I was... but m'not..."

"No... babe, you're pregnant." He showed the letter to me, pointing his finger to its title. Indeed, the letter he held was for pregnancy. And it read positive.

My heart lurched. What...?

I snatched the other letter from his paw in haste, scouring for the details. PSA test for prostate cancer. Results had shown no cancerous cells. Negative. I had the all clear.

Oh... fuck...

"Sweetheart..." he said, voice swelling with pride, "We're gonna be dads... and you get to stick around with me for another seventy years more." He brought me into a crushing hug, one paw resting on and softly caressing my now confirmed pregnant belly, "We're having a baby..."

I was going to live and we were having a baby - Gods' little miracles.

I started crying again from pure and overwhelming joy.