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Morphtalk by the Blog Dog

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by Seinfeld 1999

Blogisode 2:

Well, I said I'd try to get out a blogisode every one or two weeks, and so here's the next one, right on the tail of the first. I'm still not completely sold on calling these things "blogisodes," but Chuck likes the name, and he's the Liberal Arts major, so I guess I'll go with what he thinks is cool. Just to remind anyone tuning in for the first time, my name's Pinch, and I'm a morph, so when I talk about morphs, I'm speaking from experience.

Last time, when I started off, I began mentioning how people don't really seem to understand morphs. Human people, that is. It's kinda stupid how they still haven't updated most dictionaries, the big, professional ones, to include morphs into the word "people." Which I guess is part of the problem right there: failure to recognize my kind as equals.

Equality. Now there's a word charged with some heavy political connotations. No, I think I won't go too deep into that territory, as I think about it. I'm a sociologist, not a political scientist. I'm definitely not an activist, at least not the sort who goes around waving signs and doing marches and stuff like that. Then again, I really don't know any morphs who are; we're all kinda busy just trying to live our lives and help out others so they can live theirs too. Still, I guess now's as good a time as any to bring up that word, equality, and run with it.

You see, morphs aren't like humans. We really, really aren't. That's what makes it so hard for us to find common ground with humans sometimes, or at least that's what I think. We're so similar to humans in so many ways, it's understandable that humans, and even a lot of morphs, would think of us as though we were just some artificially-generated offshoot of humanity, but that's not really a good way to think about morphs, even if it's more-or-less the way we got started. We've got a human base, that's true, but that's just where things start. After that, we get pretty interesting. It makes sense, though, when you think about it, even a little bit. Because we morphs are made things, specially designed and crafted under the most stringent circumstances, we don't have a lot of the same problems humans do. We don't have human mental disorders, at least not to the degree that they're cripplingly obvious, we don't have any serious human physical disorders, we're not even prone to catching things like the common cold, because they just don't fit our artificially-made genes right. Going one step more, though, we've got senses that humans just don't. Our brains are masterpieces of compact organic engineering, cramming an unbelievable amount of stuff into an area that's only a little bit larger than a typical human cranium. Most morphs lose out on one sense or other, usually color vision, just because there wasn't room for everything. Losing out on color vision doesn't mean we're colorblind, though, just that we don't see colors as vividly as a human. In exchange, as an example, we canomorphs get senses of smell that let us know what a piece of food will taste like when it's still being cooked in the kitchen, and we're in the dining room. As a Doberman Pinscher, my sense of smell isn't quite as good as some canomorphs', since I'm based on a sight hunter breed, and have some more visual abilities to replace the slight loss of scent, but that's not to say I can't pick out individuals in the next room just by smelling them.

Okay, that's a pretty big block of text there. So, why's it important? You've got to understand, our senses are the basis of how we all take in the world around us. We act the way we do because of how we perceive the world. A statement like that is usually meant metaphorically, but not right now: I'm being very literal. Morphs are different from humans because we sense the world in completely different ways, and that means we really can't think like humans, which means we're fundamentally different.

Now we're into seriously heavy territory, because we're hitting the word "equality" pretty hard. I mean, how can two species be equal when they don't even sense the world the same way? The easy answer, of course, is the same way different humans can be equal, even when they don't sense the world the same way. Of course, that hasn't worked out so well for humans, historically-speaking, but I've got some high hopes for the future all the same. After all, we might not have fixed all the underlying problems behind humanity's violence against humanity (or against other people for that matter), but we've worked really hard on improving our educational systems all around the world. I think good education really helps.

Different but equal aside, there's another really important thing about morphs that everybody needs to understand, and it's probably the biggest doozy of a difference out there. Okay, brace yourselves, because this is hot and heavy stuff I'm going to get into. Still here? Here it is then: morphs are different from humans because of our instincts.

As I understand it, the reason our designers left so much of the instincts of our animal ancestors intact is because it was a lot easier to do so than to peel them all out and leave our brains as naked as a human's. Leaving all the instincts in there meant we didn't have to learn nearly as much as a human does about a whole lot of things. Unlike animals, though, we morphs aren't controlled by our instincts, they just give us an immediate template from which we can draw a standard response in a given situation, all without conscious thought.

Now we're into the heavy stuff, so if you're under the legal age in your country, this is where you should probably exit the webpage and go play somewhere else. You see, one of the biggest places where morph instincts were left mostly intact is our mating instincts. Whoever it was that originally designed morphs (and before you ask, I don't know, and if anybody does, they're not spilling) wanted us to make babies. A lot. I mean, it's pretty obvious if you look at just about any morph that we've all got those qualities about us that mark us as prime breeding material. All morphs are really symmetrical in shape, more than the average human, so much so that it's honestly sometimes hard to tell morphs of the same breed and markings apart by sight alone, leading a lot of morphs to deliberately break up that symmetry with fur tattoos, scarification, and unique clothes, among other "personality markers." All morphs are healthy by default, so much so that we don't actually _need_to watch our diets or exercise to any special degree, but if we do, we always end up getting results those people on weight loss and muscle building commercials only wish they could attain. Just about every morph femme, even the petite ones, has a waist-to-hip ratio that lets a guy know on sight that they're healthy and fertile. Just about every morph male has a deeper, masculine sort of voice, has a penis large enough to displace the cum of his rivals, and has a set of testicles ready to pop a nut on demand.

Morph mating instincts are a major part of how the sexes relate to each other, and within our own sex. Okay, now here's one of the really weird things about morph femmes that makes us really different from human femmes: we don't get jealous. That's a really big blanket statement, I know, but it's more-or-less constant. Speaking as someone who's had a kid before, including all the monkey business leading up to having said kid, I can say that it just feels right to share the experience of sex with others. It's a lot better if I can have sex with people that I know, like, and trust, but just having a big, friendly cuddle-pile of genial strangers for casual lovemaking is a decent second best.

As I think about it, maybe a personal example would help to demonstrate a lot more about how important sex is to morph social life than me just telling you about it possibly could. Let's see...yeah, I've got a good one. So, three girls walk into a bar...yeah, you've heard that one. Seriously, though, it was me and my friends, Red and Caprita, that got into this situation. Red's this skinny vixen, a vulpimorph with bright red fur and snowy white underparts. She did some recon work for the US military before they let their morphs go, but you'd never know it to talk with her; she's just the nicest, most outgoing, most friendly, and most slutty person you could ever hope to meet, and I do mean all of that in the best possible ways. Caprita, on the other hand, is a nice Catholic girl, a Mexican hairless dog, or Xoloitcuintle canomorph who got raised by a human family that basically adopted her when they couldn't have kids of their own. I've always thought it was a pity how uptight she's always been about sex, because she's a real knockout, with a fine set of gravity-defying breasts and these really nice hips and a shapely butt, all of which make me really want to just grope her all over, and I'm not even all that into other femmes.

Naturally, it was Red's idea to go out to a bar and get laid. Morphs don't drink alcohol as a rule, but that doesn't mean we don't go to bars. Bars are social gathering places, and even if all we do is sip bubble tea, smoothies, or mixed soda drinks, pretty much all the same stuff that goes on in human bars goes on in the ones for morphs, with friends hanging out, watching television, meeting new people in a safe, relaxed atmosphere, and sometimes hooking up. Red, though, was in heat, and she was on the warpath for getting nailed, and not just by one or two guys, either. Like any morph femme in season, she knew full well about her state, and that sex would get her knocked up. Unlike some morph femmes, though, Red felt that she was more than ready to have her baby basked stuffed. She'd got some savings together for it, her delivery business was in a slow season so she had some time, and her instincts were telling her it was time to get naked with six or seven hot, healthy, horny guys and play some serious sperm roulette to make sure only the fittest got to nail her egg. Her goals for the night were pretty much setting the tone for the evening, whether me and Caprita wanted it or not, though of course we didn't have to participate in the nasty if we didn't want to.

Caprita, in a comparison and contrast to Red, was also in heat, but she wasn't looking to get pregnant. My Xolo friend was in a Catholic school, thanks to the connections of her human family, and she was well on her way to finishing up her teaching degree. With so few humans left around, along with the sudden baby boom among those humans that can still produce children after the Whyker plague, there's been a desperate demand for teachers, and Caprita was looking forward to teaching early elementary age kids, the majority of her tuition paid for by both federal and state governments. She was just along with Red to try and talk our vixen friend out of committing sin, or at least that's what she told us both. Personally, I didn't think it was the smartest thing Caprita could do, considering how persuasive Red can be, and how charismatic. Red is always talking me, and all her friends really, into doing all sorts of crazy things, and making them seem like fun. Actually, they are fun, though a lot of them are only fun when they're with Red: she's just that kind of person. Still, if it had been up to me, and I was in Caprita's situation, I'd have been taking birth control, or at least brought along a couple packets of condoms, just in case. Unfortunately for Caprita, being Catholic, she believed birth control was a worse sin than getting knocked up, so that wasn't an option for her, and neither Red nor I suggested it - we respected Caprita's beliefs, even if we didn't understand them sometimes, and we didn't try to tell her how to live her life, even if she didn't always return the favor.

Me, though, I was most definitely on birth control. They've gotten really good about birth control medications, and you hardly even notice any effects at all, unlike how I understand they used to work when they were just estrogen pills. After being bred like an animal by my former owners, while the male I was with was a really nice guy, made me feel comfortable and happy, and was absolutely awesome in the sack, I decided I wasn't going to go through that ordeal again, at least not until I'd had a lot of time to think about it. Having my first child taken away from me so that she could be raised by others, trained to be the sort of morphservant some other human family wanted, kinda soured me to the whole idea of having children.

So there we were, stepping into a morph bar right when blue collar workers were just getting off their jobs. Since most morphs work in something blue collar related or the service industry, it was peak time for the bar. Red was rocking her heat hard, showing off all her goods in this extra-short miniskirt, with her tail sticking over the waistband, so that a little bit of crack at the top was showing with every flick of her tail when she walked, topped with an extra-tight tube top squeezing down on her perky little breasts. Caprita was wearing something more modest, a knee-length skirt and a nice blouse if I remember right. Me, I was wearing tight jeans shorts, a white t-shirt, and my favorite leather jacket. Naturally, the first thing Red does once we're in there, without even waiting to check the place out except to make sure there were males in the place, and lots of them, is head over to the bar and scoot up onto a stool, making it really clear she wasn't wearing any panties under that miniskirt when she bends over to order something to drink.

Seeing a few males amble on over, I sighed and went over to back Red up, Caprita sticking right up to my arm, looking around nervously at all the males eying the three of us like raw, bloody meat, her skinny whip tail curled around one leg. Caprita didn't know a lot about how morphs are because of all that time spent with humans, and she sometimes thinks like a human. Of course, she wasn't in any danger - none of us were, no matter how flirty we got. I got Caprita settled onto a bar stool on my left, while I got Red on my right, and within minutes all three of us had drinks, with some of the males collecting around us paying for them. Hey, free drinks are always nice. I'm pretty sure mine was an Orange Julius, because I love those things. Once I'd gotten settled, I turned around, drink in hand, and leaned against the bar, all the better to check the lay of the land, and see what Red had gotten us in for.

Sure enough, it was mostly blue collar types in the place, males in work clothes settled around tables, in booths, and around the bar. The ones around the bar, of course, had pretty quickly gravitated around Red, who wasn't at all shy about giving everyone plenty of time to get the scent of her heat-enflamed pussy. I remember Red saying something about knowing the place, and realized that she'd probably chosen it precisely because its regular clientele were almost entirely male morphs, something that came back to me as I looked around, and saw that the only femmes in the place were the two waitresses, a cute calico felimorph with curly red hair (a rarity on morphs, but not impossible). and a muscular Holstein-patterned bovimorph girl who was as tall as a lot of the men, and wore a cowboy hat between the short horns on her head. Red was laughing and joking with a little cluster of five males gathered around her, the little extrovert, letting her black-furred hands and white-tipped tail brush against their bodies quite regularly; her hand-touches stayed in "just friends" territory, around the chest and the face mostly, but her tail got pretty daring indeed, every stroking touch of that fluffy appendage making the males around her, big, seasoned workmales, strong and powerful and virile creatures that would have fit in squatting around a caveman's fire just as well as in the soft lighting of the bar, draw in a little closer. One of them was a big polar bear ursimorph, I remember that, and there was this skunkguy, tough-looking customer, probably only recently ex-military, but not mean-looking despite it. The others were canomorphs of various dog breeds I don't really recall, except to note that these were the guys who'd probably end up knocking Red up; morphs of similar types have a way higher chance of being compatible, and though it's not impossible for morphs of different types to reproduce, the greater the distance of species the morphs are based upon, the less likely any coupling will be viable, if it happens at all. Naturally, Red was being extra-friendly with the canomorphs, though she wasn't the sort to leave the other two boys out of the loop; Red might be a flirty little thing, but she's only a tease when she intends to put out later.

Caprita was watching too, and her eyes started out disapproving, her body language pretty clearly signaling that she wanted to be left alone as she nursed her coffee. Why she drinks that awful stuff, I'll can't understand, but I guess it's a human thing she picked up. As Red's hands started to stroke down to the belly regions of the canomorph males closest around her, though, Caprita's expression started to change, becoming sort of wistful, like a fat dieter looking through the window of a bakery, her body language shifting along with her scent. And when I reached over and gave the skunkguy's butt a squeeze through his jeans, getting his attention, Caprita's expression turned to one of outright envy.

As soon as I started talking with the skunkguy, whose name was Scatter, and Caprita started to relax a little, that seemed to signal to everyone there that it was open season on the girls at the bar. Our respective scents had already revved up all the guys in the bar, including the slender giraffemorph and broad-shouldered elephantmorph tending the bar itself, and the two waitresses weren't unaffected either. The difference in our pheromones was producing an interesting effect. Of course, the scent of Red, a ready, willing, and very able vixen right in the peak of her estrus was turning all the males into full mating aggression mode. Most of the males, even the ones at tables or booths, got up and started to cluster steadily closer to the bar where there was room.

Then there was Caprita's scent. Sure, she was in heat, but she was also withdrawn, hesitant, her mood a little pensive. We morphs have a pretty strong instinct for bringing pleasure to our partners, and it's so strong, rape it pretty much impossible, even for the most hyper-aggressive or totally oblivious males. As soon as the scent of a female in distress hits a male morph's nostrils, that's an instant buzzkill, so most morphs actively avoid setting off that sort of scent in the first place - a basic reverse-Pavlovian response. With her there, smelling like she did, the instincts of the males in the room were confused, conflicted, which is probably why the whole shebang didn't turn into a big orgy right then and there, morph stances on modesty being pretty lax whenever we're not around humans.

Finally, there was me. Birth control tends to make a femme smell a lot like she's already pregnant, and a pregnant femme produces a number of immediate instinctive responses. The first and most pressing is a sense of protectiveness, where all males and females get this subtle urge to take care of the one with the pregnant scent. Right along with the protective instinct, though, is a clear sex signal, marking the pregnant female as a sort of communal property: since she's already pregnant, it's okay for anyone to mate with her, since there's no need to compete for a space that's already filled. These two drives meet in the middle to create a sense of communal cooperation in both males and females around the pregnant femme. I guess the closest thing a human would understand would be that feeling of soft eroticism when you're having relaxed sex with somebody you care about. There's no need to push or shove or prove anything, just the chance to enjoy being around each other and basking in each others' affection.

Around this point, one male, a smaller canomorph, a mustached schnauzer I think, wandered over to the jukebox and popped in some money. There was a slight hiss as the classic record arm pulled into place, and then the room was filled with something light, bouncy. It was good dance music, and after a few moments, Red hopped up and started to wiggle that cute red booty of hers to the beat, obviously not caring one bit how her skirt kept hiking up in the back. Those morphmales who cared to dance moved in fast, and soon Red was at the center of a gang of eager males, most of them only barely able to keep up with her thanks to the swelling bulges in the fronts of their pants. I started to rise, so I could join in - I don't usually dance, but I'm game for it sometimes, and it did look like a lot of fun with Red to take the attention off my dorkdancing - but before I did, I looked at Caprita to make sure she'd be all right. Huh. Turned out, in the time I'd been watching the room, and especially watching Red, a pair of really handsome strawberry roan equimorphs had moved in on my Xolo friend. They had to be twins, they looked so alike, and Caprita was smiling at them both, her ears turned down, tail wagging in a clear signal of shy friendliness. A quick sniff told me she was getting steadily aroused as well, finally loosening up as her instincts overrode her upbringing.

Leaving Caprita to what I figured was the inevitable, I grabbed Scatter by the hand and dragged him out onto the floor, very deliberately placing his hands on my butt as I ground up against him, my stubby docked tail showing just how happy I was with the present situation as it wiggled up a storm. Scatter has a this cute, boyish sort of face, with big, dark eyes, and I couldn't help but like the guy immediately as he started to talk to me while we danced. I was just laughing at a joke he made, something about how he was worried that, if he kissed me, he might end up getting stuck on my piercings, when I decided enough was enough, and leaned in close, pressing my breasts against his chest, telling him there was only one way to find out if he was right. Then I asked him if he felt lucky. He did, and he was as good a kisser as I'd hoped.

Naturally, it was Red that interrupted us, making my ears hurt when she gave this girlish squeal of giddy excitement, and suddenly broke out of the ring of guys closing in around her to go racing over to the door of the bar. There was this broad-shouldered pit bull guy standing there, his only clothes a pair of red sweat pants, which was enough to show off the spiky black tattoos that wound around his upper arms and bits of his chest. The tattoos really stood out because he was an albino, his red eyes and almost ghostly white fur making that pretty clear.

"Spike!" Red squealed again as she hopped up, wrapping her legs around Spike's waist, his hands automatically going down to cup her bare bottom in his big, strong hands, his eyebrows going up in surprise as he discovered what everybody else already knew. In that position, her cheeks spread by those big pit bull hands, everybody in the bar could see the white inner parts of Red's tushie...and the pink parts inside of those as well. The sexual tension levels in the place hit a new high, made even worse by the arrival of this alpha male that had just shown up. Red of course acted like she was obvlious, grabbing Spike's hand and dragging him over to the dance floor after she hopped down from his hands. Spike complained about not dancing, but Red ignored him and started to grind it out really hard and heavy against the front of Spike's sweats, and any male that got close as well.

This kept up until, suddenly, Spike reached out and grabbed Red around the waist, pulling him against her chest, her eyes getting wide at this sudden break. He growled out that he didn't dance, then kissed her like a savage, his hand going under her skirt and getting to work, a loud, wet squelching audible over the sound of the jukebox as the pit bull made Red squirm. Raising his eyes to look around at the other males, challenging them to his right to start things off, Spike tossed Red over his shoulder making her giggle playfully, before he bent her over the bar, jerking both her skirt and her tail high. Shucking his sweats down to his knees, Spike made Red squeal when he plowed into her, humping her hard and rough, like an animal, shedding all semblance of civilization. As he humped her, Spike stripped Red's top off and tossed it aside, then pulled out just long enough to yank her skirt down, letting it drop to her ankles as he plunged in again, that thick, blunt cock of his shafting her good and hard and fast.

Suddenly, something changed, as the schnauzer who'd dropped money in the jukebox came up behind Spike and rested a hand on the other male's sexy white butt - Spike's buns still rank in my big top 50 cutest butts of all time, and that includes movie stars (his butt isn't as hot at Montenegro's, though, but that big black stallion's my favorite movie star, so go figure). Everything just sort of stopped there as Spike looked back at the shorter male, then down at the schnauzer-guy's penis, which he was holding in his other hand. A willing female was one thing, but mounting another male was quite another, especially when it was an obvious alpha male like Spike. Then the pit bull grinned and told the schnauzer "Not before you lube me up first." That got the schnauzer on his knees, rimming out Spike, who moaned as he bent over Red, pounding that sweet vixybutt for all he was worth, slowing down only for a few moments to let the schnauzer squeeze his cock into Spike's tense pink tailhole.

Floodgates now open, all the barriers now gone when Spike willingly gave up his position of dominance so that everyone could enjoy themselves, sharing pleasure equally, Red wasted no time reaching over to undo the pants of the nearest bartender, and soon she was almost choking herself on a big, heaping mouthful of grey elephant cock. Looking over, I saw Caprita gaping, wide-eyed, at the gorgeous twin stallions on either side of her, the pair having stripped naked before seating themselves back on the bar stools. Her hands were wrapped around their smooth horsedongs, and she was stroking them with a dazed look on her face, almost like she was in a trance. Me, I shucked my t-shirt (I kept the jacket on, though - I love that jacket), and let Scatter watch when I turned away, bending over to give him a prime view of my butt as I shimmied out of my shorts, before I knelt in front of the cute skunkie, peeling open his jeans so I could pop that thick, slick, shiny black skunkcock into my muzzle, letting him feel what my tongue-stud could do to the underside of his shaft. Makes me drool just remembering the taste of skunk on my tongue...now I have to call Scatter up and have him come over.

Naturally Scatter was an anal fiend, and after he'd rimmed me out, I let him stuff my butt like there was no tomorrow. I caught the strong heifer girl watching, and grabbed her waist, pulling her skirt and panties down so I could give her a deep and proper tonguing. After I got my first taste of pussy juice, things started to get a little blurry for me, and got even more blurry after Scatter made me cum - the guy knows how to handle a girl's butt, I'll give him that. I've got these impressions, quick mental flashes of some of the things that went on in the bar that night. Caprita being held up while the stud twins sandwiched her with a good doublestuffing. Red being gangbanged by six guys at once, two in her cunny, one in her tailhole, one in her muzzle, and one in each of her hands. The calico eating me out before I pulled her fuzzy tushie around to return the favor in a sixty-nine, both of us soon getting squeezed full of thick, juicy cock, which only slowed our oral play down just a little, some of it being diverted onto the cock of the male inserted into the other girl's pussy. Me and Caprita and Red all lined up, bent over the bar, while males took turns pounding us in a row, the cow-girl mounted on the giraffe guy just a little distance down the bar, Spike squeezing the calico kitty against the wall a short distance off, his hips pumping hard and fast as he held her thighs spread nice and wide, while a small pile of used condoms gradually collected next to Caprita's smooth Xolo butt as she panted desperately next to me on the bartop, completely drunk on pleasure.

Needless to say, when it was all finished, somebody called a taxi to take us home. Caprita actually slept over at my place, since she'd just gone a lot farther than she'd ever gone before, and was feeling a little bit clingy while she sorted out how she felt about things. Red got her phone stuffed with names and numbers, and my pockets were stuffed with slips of paper with the copies of the same information, the owners of said names and numbers just making sure. Caprita didn't get pregnant from that whole mess, since I'd heard her tell several males that she wasn't ready for puppies just yet, and it seemed that everybody decided to make use of the condoms provided by some helpful patron...or else made use of Caprita's tailhole. Needless to say, she wasn't sitting down a whole lot the next day, or the next week for that matter, and I admit it was pretty funny watching her try to walk the morning after before I coaxed her back into bed.

Fun as that was, I think it demonstrates a lot of what I mean about morph instincts and sexuality a lot faster than my explaining it. You'll notice I didn't mention a whole lot of speaking involved in everything that took place. There was speaking to break the initial ice, when our thinking brains were still active, then human side of us, I guess, and there was some speaking to voice desires, like Caprita not wanting to get pregnant, that required a modification of the behavior demanded by instinct. Mostly, though, we communicated the way animals do, through body language and the cues of sight and scent. We didn't even need to explain why Red was there in the bar - everyone there knew it immediately, just from her nonverbal cues. And unlike human nonverbal cues, which can lead to so many misunderstandings, there wasn't any ambiguity in what Red wanted, or in what she got.

Oh, incidentally, Red had twins from that encounter. They're in their teens now, since that was quite a while ago, before I'd even started college. She named them Mona and Lisa.