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On vacation with his husband, the quiet, unassuming Neil Riley Twiggs finds out more about himself than he'd imagined when a strange figure turns him into a dog. Along with some... other changes.

It's just smut. Really. Smut, and all the tags Rob never normally uses. This is an idea I kicked around with :iconMax Coyote: as we headed back to the airport after Rocky Mountain Fur Con. So if you like it, blame him; if you don't like it, blame me.

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

"A date in Constantinople," by Rob Baird

I'd known Mike Cowie for three years, four months, and sixteen days when he suggested that we take the vacation. It was on a Sunday morning, we were eating breakfast, and he said: "Have you ever thought about the Med?"

And when I'd misheard, thinking he was talking about medications, Mike had laughed his trademark laugh and produced two tickets to Istanbul from his pocket. Turkish Airlines. First class. Leaving that evening.

He'd talked about wanting to get away for awhile. We'd never really had a honeymoon, and he'd been more insistent lately. Didn't I know about how interesting Turkey was? He'd heard such interesting stories! Such interesting people! Interesting, interesting, interesting.

Now we were coming in for a landing, and I still didn't know what to think. The taste of baklava was sweet on my tongue, and somewhere before us loomed the Bosphorus, and the Blue Mosque, and... well. Who knew?

It wouldn't have been my first choice; I was always a little bit of a homebody. "Neil Armstrong," my mom had said -- to her only son, the child of avid hikers and explorers -- "you are not."

True. Just regular Neil, nothing like my namesake. Neil Riley Twiggs, freelance graphic designer, and not very adventurous at all. I let Mike make the decisions for me, as he had since we'd fallen for one another.

"Lookit," he nudged my side, and pointed to the bright blue water skimming past the window beyond. "Ya wanna go sailing, Roo?"

Rooster, that was his name for me. Because of an obscene euphemism, and because he said I "got him up" in the mornings...

That evening, after a dinner of calamari and fresh-caught fish, we sat on the balcony of our hotel room and I threaded my fingers through his. Mike was the CTO for one of the local tech firms. Maybe you've heard of them? If you've ever ordered delivery food online, Mike's company probably wrote the software in the background.

He wasn't your typical engineer. Garrulous and tanned and white-smiled, he had the sort of windswept hair one gets from long summers on the family yacht. You wanna go sailing? I knew I was a bit of a prize for him, like the Italian roadsters he kept for a few months and then discarded, or the chalet he'd had for awhile, but so what?

Mike loved me, and he'd kept me comfortable and happy for three years, four months, and seventeen days. What was a little adventure? "You liked dinner?" he asked.

I was feeling the beer a little, but I nodded, snuggling up to him. "Yeah."

"You want to go down to a souk tomorrow?"

"What's that?" I asked drowsily, stroking the man's carefully manicured fingers.

"A big market. But there's one I've been wanting to check out. You know, there's some crazy stuff that's legal here..."

I tilted my head. "How crazy?"

He looked down, smiled, and kissed me on the lips. "Let's find out."

It turns out there's more than one bazaar in Istanbul. I saved a few to my phone, and when Mike hired a taxi the next day and we set off, I watched as the little dot on the smartphone's maps went to exactly none of them. Big streets became small streets became alleys, until we were deep in a quarter of the city I couldn't even identify.

The walls looked to date from when the place was still called Constantinople. Glazed tile mosaics greeted us. Pretty -- I snapped a quick picture to use as a reference when I was back at my iMac. Mike grinned. "Seems like the right place." He handed a stack of lira to the driver, and the cab puttered away in a sickly cloud of diesel.

A few people looked up at us -- white tourists in blue jeans and t-shirts, Mike running his hands admiringly over the tiles and me checking my phone again to make sure we were even still in Turkey. When I looked up, Mike had pulled a piece of paper from his wallet, and was reading off it to an old man seated on a cement bench.

The man listened attentively, then pointed down an even narrower alley that divided two white-plastered buildings with a razor-thin sidewalk. I followed Mike's lead carefully, and then we were in the souk.

A few men and women browsed at wooden stalls that bared spices, and jewelry, and bolts of vibrant cloth. Mike took a length of one, and wrapped it around my shoulders like a shawl. "You like?"

"Bit... loud..."

Snickering, he replaced the silk. "We'll get it made into something nice."

But he was already moving on, examining glass beads and bottles of essential oils and perfumes. Then he found what he was looking for: two men, on opposite sides of a hookah, taking careful draws from it and chatting amicably in soft Turkish.

"Hey," Mike didn't bother with an introduction. "Can I bother ya?" Nobody ever ignored him. Nobody ever told him 'no.'

"What?" one of the men spoke, in an accent just barely on this side of understandable. He smiled, because everyone smiled at my Mike, and his butter-colored teeth showed. "You need help?"

"Fazil Karanlik?" Mike asked.

The two Turkish men lifted their eyebrows, and the one who had spoken earlier gave a rather peculiar smirk. "For you? For him?" He pointed at me, and I waved hopefully.

"For him," Mike said, and then all three laughed. The man gestured to an unmarked door, and then returned to his hookah.

"What was that about?" I asked, catching up to my husband. "That discussion?"

He pulled me against his side, and squeezed. "Nothing, Roo."

Fazil Karanlik was clad in robes, and his shop was a dimly lit apothecary. I couldn't see anything of his face. "Good morning," he purred. Unaccented voice. Little bit of huskiness; a growl like maybe he smoked too much. "Sit down, both of you..."

We dropped obligingly into the rattan; Fazil stood, retrieved two clay mugs, and with his back to us filled them before handing one to Mike and one to me. As discretely as I could, I sniffed, and caught the faint scent of roses.

"Please, drink. Drink up," Fazil told us. Mike brought the cup to his lips, and so did I; the taste of the liquid was bitter, although after a second or two I found that I wanted to drink some more.

So I did, and it was not until I had finished two thirds of the cup that I noticed Mike still hadn't swallowed. "What, um... what is this, Mr. Fazil?"

"What you came for," the figure chuckled. "It's a powerful drug. A good way of revealing not just what you are, but what you secretly desire to be..."

My husband was grinning in a way I found a little unsettling. "Mike? Hon? Do you know what's happening... ha... happ..." I shook my head and found that it was buzzing -- that it was hard to make the words come. "Babe? Mike, I... I want to go," I told him.

"Nonsense, Roo," he smiled, and tousled my hair. "You're gonna be so cute, I bet..."

"What?" My fingers felt very long; when I tried to set the cup down it wobbled and tipped over, spilling the rest of the water. Neither Fazil nor Mike moved. The hooded Fazil Karanlik was still standing, and though I couldn't see his eyes he seemed to be watching me.

My tailbone was starting to burn, and my vision was blurring. I grasped the table, getting to my feet, and immediately stumbled. Fazil was at my side in an instant -- I felt him catch my arm to steady me. Then his other gloved hand clamped over my lips, and I caught the sweetly bitter smell of paint thinner.

A muffled cry. A single twitch.

Darkness.

Light. I was sitting back in the rattan, but the shadows had changed and I thought I saw the golden hues of sunset. Everything looked a little strange; felt a little strange -- I was quite warm. Tingly. "What was that?" I asked, and my voice sounded high and nasal and flat.

No sign of Mike, but Fazil was seated across from me. "Welcome back," he said. His voice, too, was different. Deeper. Coarser. Graveled in sounds lower than I'd ever heard before. The air was thick with the smell of... everything. Incense from the souk outside. Cooking food. The stale reek of centuries of human habitation.

Jesus, I thought. Some drugs. "Mike..."

"Mike thought you should have some time to yourself," Fazil told me. "To adjust to your new... form."

I blinked. "My what?"

"Your true nature, Riley Twiggs..."

My whole body itched. I shook my head. "How do you..." And then I caught sight of my hands. At first they looked unusually pale and fuzzy. Then I saw that they were fuzzy. With a growing sense of shock I brought my hand up so that I could look at it clearly.

Yes. Covered in fur. Clawed.

There was fur everywhere. My legs -- my bare legs. My arms. My belly was covered in a soft white pelt. When I brought my hands -- paws! -- to my face, they stopped at a solid bulk just like a dog's muzzle. And that muzzle opened when my mouth did, to gasp: "what did -- what did you --"

Fazil Karanlik didn't move. The itching was starting to fade into a pleasing, full-body warmth -- like I was a glass of wine into one of my dates with Mike. Or relaxing on a beach. Or... my thoughts trailed off, because as my inhuman fingers walked up the thick fur of my belly they met an unexpected weight.

I glanced down. Two fur-downed breasts greeted me. Not quite comprehending, I brushed my fingers through the fur and was met with a pleasant warmth radiating through... my?... chest. And I looked back to the hooded man: "what am I?"

"Why... only exactly what you wanted." Fazil laughed and stood up; his robes followed, like avid followers clinging to their messiah. His gloved hand took mine, and he pulled me to unsteady feet.

Unsteady, but... light. Like every step had a little spring to it. "What did I want?"

The next room seemed to have been his living chambers. I could smell perfume, decades of faint perfume. Opium? Myrrh? A low bed had been left untidy. But his hand on mine turned me not to the bed but to the far side of the room. A painting -- very lifelike. It showed a dog-like creature, standing on two feet -- silvery fur on its sides and shoulders, snow-white on its belly. Perked ears. One blue eye, one chestnut.

Then I saw the creature's hand move. Then I saw Fazil Karanlik, in reflection behind it. Then I realized I was staring at a mirror.

I gasped: "But I'm..."

"A perfect, gorgeous little bitch," Fazil told me. I could see that he stood a foot taller, at least, and his gloved hand pulled mine up to rest on my belly. White on soft, pretty, cotton white. And with my hand no longer in the way...

"My..." My cock was gone. The fingers on my other... my other paw found nothing where I expected it to be. And... and maybe it had not been much -- had never been much -- Mike had reassured me it was fine, between bouts of fond teasing, but...

"Yes." Fazil had such strong hands, and I was in too much shock to resist him as he guided my fingers down, down and between my legs to find -- emptiness. And then the softest, silkiest fur. And then shockingly bare flesh and a touch that sent a jolt through me.

"No," I whispered, and told myself that it hadn't felt strangely pleasurable.

"Yes," he repeated, and his grasp dragged my fingers over my crotch again. "I thought so. This is what you really were, all along..."

"But..." Every time he worked my fingers over that sensitive area between my legs it became harder to resist him. I tried to step away, but his hand on my belly held me fast.

This wasn't right. I was not a woman -- certainly not a dog, even a rather fetching -- no! Stop that! Where had that thought come from? And... and why... "That's right, wag that cute little tail," Fazil chuckled. I could see the furry appendage when it swayed to either side of my slate-furred legs.

Now there was no denying that it felt good to touch myself -- wonderful, even. And... soothing. Like there was an itch there that I couldn't quite scratch. Fazil stopped, and before I could help myself I ground my hips against his gloved hand. I wanted him to keep going, and when he didn't I took up the slack myself, humping against the strong man's fingers.

"See? What did I tell you. You're such a natural... and when this is all over, I can change you back -- unless you do something to get yourself... stuck this way..."

"Something like?"

"Like giving into those desires you're feeling." The muffling of the hood gave his voice a strange character, like it was filtered through honey. "But whose fault would that be? The tincture could've turned you into anything..."

Giving in? Slowly, like it ached, I pulled my fingers away and instantly regretted it. The fire was coming a little stronger, smoldering in my nerves, spreading like ink staining fine paper. Like running makeup. Like water from a spilled clay mug... "You can turn me back?"

"If that's what you want. Or..."

Half-fearful, I tore my gaze from the mirror and turned in his grasp to look at him. "Or?" Fazil Karanlik let me go, and undid the sash that bound his robes. And then he shrugged them free.

Before me stood a tall, black thing. A wolf. Eerily canine, just like me, with blazing yellow eyes that formed the only disturbance of that shadowy color. Strong, muscled arms ended in the velvet gloves he wore -- and then, without any hesitation, he removed them one by one and let them fall to the floor.

He should've been monstrous. I should've wanted to flee. But... but I found that my knees had turned to jelly. He was so... so imposing. So eyecatching. And, when I could see what it looked like when he grinned -- bone-white teeth on a black muzzle, eyes flickering like candlelight -- so handsome.

"Or we could do all the things you really wanted..."

The tingling that had started in my crotch was threading its way up my spine. I shuddered, and found it hard to speak at first. I had to choose the words carefully. One by one. My husband will be coming back for me, and I can't stay like this. Please let me go. Please let me go. Please -- "Like?"

I thrilled to the heated touch of those strong black paws feeling over my sides. Fazil groped my left breast and I glanced down to watch the soft flesh yield to his sure fingers -- throbbing, warm delight when his polished claw drew a ring around my nipple. It had never been so sensitive before. Before, when I was Neil Riley Twiggs.

I don't know who you are or what you've done to me. I'm not..._this. Whatever you've made of me, I'm not it..._ "Oh, god..." My nipple was stiff and electric to the black canine's touch; I squirmed, trying to get closer to him and his lovely arms. That much couldn't hurt. Right?

"Stunning," Fazil growled. "Absolutely stunning. But I think a good, eager to learn bitch like you ought to be on her knees." I glanced up to find his eyes fixed unblinkingly on me. I don't know about that, I thought, even as I started to do as I was ordered, slowly dropping to my knees.

I could hear my tail wagging behind me.

Between the wolf's jet-black legs my eyes found his sac, laden with those warm, heavy orbs that made me... made me lick my lips, like a hungry dog. Just a taste? Maybe? Above them was a thick column of soft fur where his cock should've been. I didn't think I could get my paws around it. But you want to, don't you Riley?

No? But then I was doing it anyway. He was so warm between my fingers, so enticing -- when I squeezed him, a little bit of pink appeared at the tip of his fur, and I tilted my head inquisitively. "Can I...?"

"Can you what? Can you lick my cock, Riley? Of course you can..."

Now I felt the rapid-fire thump-thump-thump of my tail on my heels as I leaned forward and brushed my tongue over him. He tasted a little salty, not at all unpleasant -- very warm on my tongue. I squeezed at his sheath again and started to pump slowly as I lapped hopefully at every new inch of cockflesh that emerged.

"Go on," he ordered. "Don't let me stop you..."

That unbearable tightness knitting itself into an urgent ball in my hips was surging hotter moment by moment. I so badly wanted to touch myself -- but... god. Fazil's jutting shaft was magnificent. Far bigger than Mike's, and Mike had not been small. It was smooth, and pulsing, and crimson, and I should've thought it very alien -- the way it came to a tapered point; the way it swelled obscenely along its length.

Instead I just wanted to put my hands on it, and so I did. Both paws. Cupping it, squeezing that fantastic warm meat between my doggy fingers as I brought it to my lips and then took it inside. Sucking eagerly, even as a thin pulse of something salty and slippery spilled over my tongue.

I had to devour him. Had to. As a human there would've been no way to do that. None at all. But as a dog... again my tail thumped. As a dog I had that nice, long muzzle, just waiting to be filled with the wolf's stiff length. That was what it was for. What I was for. I giggled, and when I suckled hard on his prick Fazil groaned, and the aching need in my body ebbed for a second or two.

Faster. Bobbing my head swiftly, stroking and squeezing him with my paws. Covering him with my tongue, letting that lovely taste linger when his precum spurted, swallowing only reluctantly. If I pushed myself deep into his crotch, like I so dearly wanted to, I had to breath through my nose and my muzzle filled with his scent. A heady, masculine aroma, thick and musky and god so fucking good.

He was starting to twitch, starting to hump against me. Mike got like that, too. I knew Fazil was beginning to lose control. "Yes," he groaned. "Oh, yes, Riley, yes..." The words were all strained and sibilant, yes riley yessss when he hissed it in sharply and I squeezed hard on his shaft and felt him shudder and buck.

Even with only half his cock in my muzzle the spurts were strong enough to hit the back of my throat. Quick. Heavy. I had to swallow to keep from choking as the ebony wolf sprayed his load against the roof of my mouth. I caught the bitter-salty taste of his delicious cum only in hints, though I tried to pull away to catch some on the tip of my tongue.

Fazil pushed me away to stagger back and drop seated on the bed, panting hard. "Oh... oh, Riley, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into..." he told me. "But you're going to be such a good bitch... I knew you were right for it..."

I didn't know what he meant. I certainly didn't know why it didn't bother me. Why it only seemed to swirl happily in the strange aching fog of desire that lurked in my brain. With the wolf's seed filling my belly that desire was only growing stronger. I could smell him every time I breathed in now.

I need to find Mike, some part of my brain said. But he'd known, surely? Which meant that he knew what Fazil was. And... what was Fazil? A wizard? A monster? No, just a wolf, with that strong grip and that voice that made my knees weaken and that cock...

I licked my lips again, and tasted a bit of pre he'd left on my whiskers. Not bad.

Wouldn't it feel nice inside me? I mean, there was no way to find out. I couldn't give in to those desires, that's what he'd said. A blowjob, that was one thing, but... I jolted, and found that my paw was pressed firmly to my crotch. Every time I rubbed there, it bought me a few seconds of respite -- but a little bit less each time...

Ignoring Fazil for the moment I glanced downward. I looked so... different, without my manhood. It was a bit jarring, but not... not entirely unappealing, either. With my legs parted, the soft puffy lips responded to every prodding, inquisitive touch. I teased myself slowly, learning what worked best stroke by tentative stroke.

My furry fingers looked strange, with their smooth grey pads, the texture bringing a warm thrill to my -- well. Own it, Riley. To your pussy. To your lovely new pussy... that's right, it sounds good to think that, doesn't it? Now keep going. Push one of those fingers into yourself and...

I whined, fucking whined with the giddy pleasure as my index finger worked its way into my soft, welcoming body. I was so warm, so tight... perfect for a nice, strong wolf to pin you down and have his way with you. I moaned, and I didn't know whether it was the finger or the shocking taboo of that thought that had done it.

My heart was racing. Another whine, softer when I pulled the finger out -- wet now, the fur sodden and slippery with the same slickness that glistened on the soft, beckoning lips of my cunt. I slipped my finger back in, watching and feeling and hearing all at once as it filled me.

And as steamy, helpless pleasure started to rise and bubble down in my hips, between my spread legs, I added a second finger, and when I had them both in all the way my hips lifted against my firmly grinding paw. Drenching it, the sound wet and lewd and intoxicating to my hypersensitive ears.

I was really wet now -- not like before, before-Riley with the glistening beads of precum at the tip of his tiny little cock. Wet like I needed every plunging thrust of my white-furred fingers, the warm sensations surging up with each touch. My legs were shaking hard -- I was whimpering, begging for what I knew was coming...

I couldn't stop myself. My hips jerked and humped against the empty air as waves of pleasure washed over me, tightening my muscles, leaving me squirming and helpless as it claimed me. I shoved my fingers deep inside as my pussy clasped around them and that wet warmth spread, soaking my thighs, my paw, the fur of my crotch.

Panting and limp, I sprawled and stared up at the ceiling. "Better?" Fazil asked.

A little. Not completely. "Why do I -- why am I like this?"

"Because, Riley, you cute little whore, you're in heat."

Heat? What did he mean by that? He means you're going to let him rut you like the filthy slut you've always been, Riley. And it's going to feel so. Fucking. Good. "People d-don't... don't do that..."

"But you're not a person, Riley." I heard him getting up, and a few moments later he entered my vision, tall and just as handsome as he'd been before. His huge length bobbed and swayed as he stepped closer. "Some people take that tincture and become fantastic artists, you know? Marathon runners. But you..." He growled, and bent down to tug me to my feet, against the heat of his body, with its familiar scent. "You, you turned yourself into a dirty little bitch, just waiting for somebody to breed you..."

The warmth of his erection pulsed between us. I need to stay in control, I tried to remind myself. Don't give into any desires. Don't look. But even if I closed my eyes I thought of how thrilling it had been to have Fazil's prick between my lips, and I moaned eagerly. Christ, it's huge. Do you think it would even fit? Find out, Riley.

"That's right," the black wolf purred. "C'mon, Riley, stop me."

Mike wouldn't want me to do this. Where was he? Surely he wouldn't want it. I needed to be strong. But the wolf was so close... and so big... and so... so... I heard him laugh, and felt my ears flinch.

"On all fours, Riley. Like a good little wolf's bitch. A good girl. You want to be a good girl, don't you Riley?" Without a word I did as I was told, sinking down on my hands and knees on the mattress. It felt like a very logical position. I heard Fazil behind me. "Get your tail up, slut. Let me see you."

Again I obeyed. I could almost feel his eyes on me, wandering over the curves of my newly feminine body. Seeing my soaking pussy all nice and vulnerable and open to him. I felt something hot push against me, sliding over my slit, getting nice and wet and slick and ready...

"The best part about being in heat," the wolf growled, as claws dug into my hips. "Is it's easy to get what you want. What do you want, Riley?" A shallow thrust nudged the pointed tip of his cock along and through the soft, spread lips. "Tell me."

I can't be like this. A slower thrust sent shuddering ripples through my hips and the burning need flared brighter, quickening with my heartbeat. I can't. It's not right. But... "You," I heard myself whisper.

"No. Beg properly, my slutty little husky bitch. Beg like a dog. You can do better than that."

"Please," I gasped, before I could keep the words inside. "Please, fuck me." And then, because he was hesitating, I told him and my conscience both the truth. "Goddamnitfuckmeplease I... I need your cock in me so badly, please stop teasing please stop please," I mewled.

"Better," the wolf grunted.

He sank the tapered tip of his cock into me without any effort and I gasped. It felt so different, so strange and new and exciting to feel myself stretching around him, clinging to his length as he pushed it in inch by inch. God he was huge. So much better than Mike.

... Bigger, I mean. Bigger. Different.

No. Better. This is what it's like to have a real man fuck you... I groaned as he worked his cock halfway inside, my folds enveloping him in the heat of my body. How could I have protested that? How could I have even known what it would be like?

And he kept going. Now he was hilted, his warm hips tickling mine with his fur as he kept that massive prick lodged deep for a blissful few seconds and it felt like he was pressed up against every single part of me. "You like that, don't you?" Fazil asked.

I nodded shakily. It was exactly what I needed -- feeling myself so thoroughly filled with the big wolf's meat, my heat-electrified body catching every throb and twitch of it. Filled until I thought I might burst with his sheer girth. Filled until it was almost painful and I wouldn't have traded it for a moment.

Then he pulled his hips back slowly, leaving just the tip nestled in my wet, needy cunt and I had to choke back a whine at the feeling of emptiness, fearing he might drag his cock all the way from me. Before I had to beg again his claws dug in, and he pulled my hips roughly back as a second thrust rammed hard into me. "Ah, fuck, Riley... so fucking tight..."

The wolf moved faster and faster now, each plunging thrust bringing a broken, guttural whine from me. He stretched me, the smooth hot flesh pushing deep into parts of me I could never even have guessed at.

I knew what Neil Riley Twiggs looked like in the mirror. Slight, pale little man. Shock of straw-colored hair. Thin glasses. Tight jeans.

But if I thought about what I looked like, I saw a gorgeous grey-furred husky bent down on all fours, being fucked hard from behind by a tall black wolf with golden eyes and sharp claws that knew just how to grasp her needy, begging hips. I saw a half-wild bitch being rutted by her nice, strong mate.

He plowed me over and over, grunting with exertion as he drove his cock into his newest conquest and she -- well, I -- moaned aloud for him. His precum, hotter and more copious than a human's, spurted up inside me and filled me with a pleasant warmth that did a little to sooth the burning need gripping me.

A little. Not enough. Especially as his plunging, growling thrusts forced that mix of juices from me, drooling wetly down my thighs as he fucked it out of me to stain my fur with our combined scents. We were making a mess of his bed.

Not that I cared. Not Riley, not good-little-bitch Riley. All I cared about was feeling the wolf's length pumping into me, hot and thick and... growing thicker? I gasped and whimpered as he seemed to surge larger with every plunging stroke. Or was it just me, grasping him tighter as he rammed me towards my release...

Before I could dwell too much on it Fazil pushed me forward and tugged himself free of my dripping pussy, leaving me to fall in an untidy heap on the bed. "Turn over," he growled. I gibbered into the mussed sheets -- then yelped at the sharp, stinging feeling of his paw swatting my rump. "Over. On your back. Now."

I forced my muscles to respond. Rolled. Then I was staring up at him, his eyes wild with lust. His shaft looked... different. The thick flesh had swollen larger near the base of it. As I watched he forced my legs apart and got back between them, and we groaned together as he pushed back inside me, up to that solid bulb...

"You know what a knot is, Riley?" I shook my head, and he pressed his hips forward until my clinging lips gave way and he sank his full length into me with a grunt. "What about now, bitch?"

He was so huge, filling me so perfectly, so completely, the tip of his cock nudging deep inside and I... I sighed, and I wrapped my arms around his firm chest, and I murmured: "it feels nice..."

The wolf pulled back. With an effort. I didn't want to give him up -- squeezed around his rigid dick and suddenly thought... if you squeezed a little harder, you could trap him inside you. You could have this nice big wolf forever, Riley, couldn't you?

I guess he knew what I was thinking, because he grinned, and pumped forward again, sinking into my pussy with a wet, sloppy squelch. "That's right. It's gonna keep me all the way inside you when I fill that tight cunt of yours with my cum. You want that, Riley?" Another tug, another achingly hard thrust until he worked himself back inside. "You want me to breed you?"

"I..." No, not really. That was definitely giving in to some desire, and he'd warned me about that. But...

"Of course you do," he answered, so that I didn't have to. Nice wolf. "Why else would you be in heat?" He rammed himself home again, and my back arched by reflex to push my hips into his. "Only one way to -- mmf -- deal with that." The grunting words were broken by the next few, quicker thrusts.

Harder.

That was fine. Riley liked that.

I shut my eyes and he started to fuck me again, rougher than before. Using the bed for leverage, he speared me with the whole thick bulk of his cock, knot and all, growling at every brutal penetration. I could feel the warmth of my release churning again as his hips clashed brutally to mine, showing my tight cunt no mercy.

I managed to get my legs round his hips and that helped -- kept him nice and close and deep so he couldn't pull away too far. Fazil was wild now, his eyes burning and unfocused, his tongue lolling -- ragged pants spattering my face with saliva as he railed me as quick and hard and fierce as any dog.

I groaned as he pounded his knot into me, back bowing, feeling my ears flatten and my teeth grit against that pressure, that stretching that was almost painful. Every time I thought he was going to split me open when he forced it into me and every. Fucking. Time I pushed my needy little hips right back into him anyway.

You might as well go ahead and admit it. Admit what? My muscles were tightening. Every movement of our rutting nudged me higher. Closer. Shuddering, hot pleasure gripped me and I knew it wasn't going to take more than a few more thrusts. No more than three or four or --

Two. Two and a half really, because that time when he tried to pull his knot free and I felt him rubbing up against me from deep inside that was what did it, what set me off. I wailed as the climax tore through me, grasping desperately at his sides with my quivering arms. My slick folds squeezed and clenched around that nice thick wolf joined to me. I heard him grunt in surprise and drop against my chest.

Admit it, Riley. Go on. Another wave of pleasure locked my muscles and even as my muzzle trembled I murmured into his adorable black ear please, begging him... "Fill me... breed your little bitch now, please, I'm yours..." And why was I saying that, except that it was true?

A fierce lunge shoved him up against me, and I felt his tip dig deeper, hot and twitching. He was prodding some buried, sensitive part of me and it sent a little twinge through my quivering body until the pressure suddenly yielded with a yelp of pleased shock and pain and delight from... me. From the feral, canine bitch I was.

And he sank an inch deeper, pushing up and inside me like he was trying to enter my belly. I clutched at him helplessly. He grunted. Went rigid. Our hips were locked, and I could feel the warm, fuzzy weight of his sac as his balls drew up, twitching and ready. Fazil's length lurched, and a sticky flood surged into me as he snarled into my ear.

Wordless. No take it, whore because I was already. No coarse oath. Just that strained growl. That yearning tension. And that spurt of hot wolfcum claiming me. Then another. And another. He jerked and humped into my hips as his cum flowed into me in hot ropes, spreading comforting warmth into me even deeper than his cock had managed. And the solid warmth of his tightly wedged knot kept a single drop from escaping -- working it ever deeper as he pumped it into my womb. There you go, Riley. Don't protest. Let him fill you with his pups. That's what you're here for...

Sure. I hugged him as the big wolf spent himself inside me, and when he collapsed I cooed and stroked his back comfortingly. The aching need for release was gone. This was what fucking was supposed to be like. How it was supposed to end, locked completely with your partner. Mike couldn't do that. No human could do that. Only a virile wolf stud, like the one now pinning my slender body. It was what I had wanted all along, wasn't it?

Except... as the afterglow slowly faded, the last few trickles of Fazil's potent seed spilling into me, I started to piece together why I had needed it. What I was doing. Who I was and... "This... wasn't supposed to happen... I'm Neil Riley Twiggs... I work in Palo Alto..."

"No, Riley," the wolf grunted, and rolled onto his side. "Just a common bitch. But you'll do to carry my litter."

I forced the thrill of that to the back of my mind. When I looked I swore I could almost see the faint outline of his cock, bulging obscenely through the fur of my belly. I shuddered: "but I have a husband. Mike. Mike?"

"Hey, Roo."

I yelped, and turned to see where the voice had come from. Mike was standing in the open doorway. Except that his pants were around his ankles, and his tanned fingers were clasped around his shaft. A few drops of recent orgasm still dripped from its softening flesh. "Mike... babe..."

"Was she good?" Mike asked. He was grinning lewdly.

"Good," Fazil agreed.

"Thought she would be. You know what?" He glanced behind his shoulder, to the amber Istanbul evening I knew lay somewhere outside. Then he looked back at us, and winked. "Keep her."