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Addiction

Chapter Twenty-one

The French Mistake

By:

Rufus Quentin

February, 1999

Things could have gone so differently. As the newness of the next, and my last, semester of High School wore off I found it increasingly difficult to suppress the complex confluence of excitement. Finally an end was in sight. I was in love. Most importantly, I realized I didn't give a shit anymore about what anybody thought about me. Okay, that's only a half truth, but having pulled off straight A's again (excluding a B in Calculus, but hey, I still had the third highest score in the class), and having my applications out, made my impending graduation and departure from West Virginia seem palpably imminent. It meant I started to experiment letting myself be who I wanted to be, indifferent to all those who thought I needed to behave a certain way. I wasn't aware of it yet, but I'd blindly taken the wrong fork in a crucial divergence on the road of my life and there was no turning back. Who knows what I could have become if it weren't for that certain night just a few weeks earlier.

Of course it was easy to be happy during that time, and I'm seldom completely happy during the winter. I still hadn't realized what exactly I'd done with Dustin. The signs didn't tell me much that early, and even when they did, I didn't listen. Sure, I worried. I always worried around those intentional suspensions of good judgment, especially the one from that unforgettable January night. However several months worth of good luck seemed to mitigate the worst of those concerns, though not entirely. When I got my period, or what I thought was my period, I thought to myself, "Fuck yea! You win again. You're invincible!" even though it was curiously light and the cramping came early and never really went away. It still bought me approximately twenty-eight more days of blissful ignorance and a couple more opportunities for arrogantly taken risks. It wasn't until later when my intuition and a few peculiar symptoms called into question the empirical proof of my dumb luck. Back in the early days it was still easy to find excuses and easier to believe them.

For those few weeks I still seethed with excitement. I was still just a teenager, coming into my own, exploring preferences, and building an identity. It felt good. I had Dustin to walk with me. I had Bryn and Amanda. All the others ceased to matter. I still wonder what would have happened if things continued that way; the person who I would have evolved into during that last semester, during college, during those wonderful twenties. I wonder what would have happened had I not gotten with Dustin. Up until around this time I certainly wouldn't have been as content.

I started binding, as I later learned it was called, around that time. Binding is the process of wrapping a cloth around one's chest, or wearing a specially made corset type device for the purpose of hiding one's breasts. It's not like they were big, or had gotten any bigger from my big mistake, at least they hadn't yet. I was just on a kick where I felt like I looked good dressed a little more boyish. Hell, I thought to myself, I looked good without them. It gave me confidence to walk into school completely and utterly androgynous. Every time I looked down and saw myself flat chested it gave me a thrill.

Binding started as an experiment; something I did in front of the mirror when the house was verifiably empty. It started when I was in Junior High, not long after my breasts came in. I did it just to see how I looked, nostalgic for the days before my body changed and I could pass for being a boy if I modulated my voice just right. Then I'd dress up in my men's hand-me-downs and inspect myself in my reflection, but in the beginning I didn't even dare leave my room without replacing my binder with my bra. One day I kept it on. I walked through the house, did chores, and even watched a bit of television in the living room with it on. That practice became a rare little indulgence, my first secret practice.

This happened long before Dustin and I started fooling around. I stopped doing it because when things started growing sexually charged I began to feel more feminine, and when things escalated I put that side of myself forward because I wanted to please Dustin. It wasn't until January, when I felt completely and utterly comfortable around my brother that I pulled it out again. I showed him one day, just walking into his room with it on. I tried to look sexy, but he didn't seem to comment on the fact my breasts were missing. When he stripped me in the heated moments before making love, he stared at my binder with a crooked-eared look, but that lasted only a second. My binder came off with the same alacrity as Dustin would rob me of my bra only with less difficulty on his part, and got thrown into the corner of my room with the same indifference. He only brought it up one night as we tried our luck with a mutual shower.

"What are you wearing?" Dustin asked, relieving his bladder with lackluster accuracy over the sound of the running shower as I stripped down to my underwear in our cramped little bathroom.

"Do you have to do that in front of me?" I said with a sideways glance cast on his penis, dropping my boxers to my ankles.

"Come on," my brother said. "Thought you were used to this."

"At least you didn't fart," I said, reaching for the bandage clip I'd repurposed to help keep my binder on.

"I might be brewing one up," Dustin joked, finishing up with a few more squirts of micturition.

"Eww," I said with a genuine look of disgust. "Oh lord, if you do while we're in the shower, so help me god I'll superglue your asshole shut."

Dustin just chuckled like he always did and shimmied down his jeans to join me bare-bottomed. "Relax," he said, "but seriously, why you hiding them?"

"Feels good," I said while I unpackaged myself.

"But they look awesome," he said, hesitating before peeling his shirt off his back.

"They're small. It's not like they'll be winning any prizes. No one's even noticed they're covered up," I defiantly said, tossing my binder in Dustin's face.

"I like your boobs," Dustin pouted after flinching and staring at the cloth bolt at his feet.

"Sometimes feels good to be without them."

"You're an odd one," he said.

"Says the guy who's gonna be nose deep in his sister's pussy in like thirty seconds." I climbed into the shower.

"Say's the girl who's gonna be making it kinda hard for her brother to breathe while she clutches him against her snatch."

"Don't call it that," I said from the other side of the frosted glass door.

"Sorry, clutched against her cooter."

"Eww, that's worse."

"Snatch it is then," he said, sneaking his naked self into the tiny shower beside me. Warm water quickly cascaded down his fur, leaving increasingly soaked furrows in his coat. "Honk honk," he said, wasting no time in squeezing my breast.

"Dork," I said, already feeling my head tilt. I shut Dustin up pressing my lips to his. A pleased little chuckle was all he could get out. We made out there under the rain from the tiny shower head in the space barely suitable for one of us.

Dustin lathered me up first, spending a great deal of time making sure my breasts and pubic fuzz was clean. When my turn came around it was my habit to clean his sheath with a sensual massage. He was peeking by the time I finished. We giggled when we looked at each other. The both of us were soapy and wet, almost unrecognizable, like some rejected muppets. You really have to be in love with somebody to not get the creeps by seeing them wet. Even transfigured by body wash and a bath, I could see the cuteness shine through in my brother's mischievous eyes.

As predicted Dustin signaled he'd make good on his threats to lick my pussy. When the water rinsed us clean he ended the kiss, licked my nose, and began to nibble down my neck. I leaned against the wall as he made a pit-stop at my breasts. I felt the cold tiles on my back and his warm tongue upon my nipple. I watched the water pour from the shower head just above my shoulder, turning my brother into a barely recognizable wet mass of fur. He sucked on my breast while his paws swept down my flanks, over my wet fur and close to my skin. Watching, feeling my brother nurse away at my breast and his tongue lick the erogenous tissue switched on my arousal like a light switch.

My paw landed between his ears after my brother's nose trekked south of my navel. His whiskers perused my pubic tufts as Dustin lovingly nuzzled through them as if catching an interesting scent. His tongue leapt out and began to rearrange the coarse fur in search of my clitoris. I sighed and closed my eyes the moment he found it, relishing the steam heat of water and the warmth of a canine tongue eagerly exploring my vulva. My brother kissed my vaginal entrance and began to make out with it, going tongue deep almost immediately. My brother's exploration was complete. He shamelessly probed my hole to taste if I was as aroused as I let on. Indeed he must not have been disappointed by my flavors.

"Is this a safe day?" Dustin asked a few minutes in, briefly pulling his nose out of my vaj. He looked up my body with perked ears and licked his lips. You could almost see the perverse clockwork tick in his eyes.

The question made me a little uneasy. It definitely took me out of the moment and knocked my arousal meter down a few notches. I shifted uncomfortably until I could channel the persona, the alternate version of myself who wasn't as unsure as I if she just missed her period. For obvious reasons, in the shower, when you're horny, and your brother is an inch away from finishing the job that's a fact you keep to yourself. I took a deep breath and visualized my calendar. I had to look back not a month to be sure. Indeed it was not a safe day, or at least it would not have been. "Why?" I asked, mentally shelving away my uncertainly like a terrible report card for a time when I would be in a better position to hear the music I'd inevitably have to face. "You thinking what I'm thinking? If you are, you better pull out today."

Dustin went back to work while I pondered. "I can tell ya, sis," he said, delving back into my pussy between sentence fragments, "You're definitely not thinking...what I'm thinking. But I think...we're on the same wavelength."

"Do I even want to be part of this?" I sighed, scratching my brother behind the ear as he tongue-bathed the inner inches of my passage. I looked down at my foot-paws where he squatted. His pinkish-red canine cock hung almost all the way out and knot bulged inside his sheath. "By the look of that boner of yours, it's something illegal in at least forty-eight states. Fuck, I haven't even touched you yet."

Dustin hummed a chuckle into my crotch. "This is already illegal in forty-eight states," he said to my pussy. He slurped the length of my sliver and moved a paw up to spread my lips in order to give attention to every fold and detail of my canine gender.

"Should I be worried?" I asked, but the reply only came in the form of a wiggling tongue poking my urethra. When my brother started to suck my hood and clit I almost forgot we were having a conversation. "What do you want?" I exhaled after my brother relented, my voice belabored by bliss.

"Hold on," Dustin said with his nose in my folds. "Still psyching myself up for this."

That attention forced a profane word from my lips, one whispered with a sensual sigh. My hips bucked toward my brother, signaling consent for him to taste whatever he wanted on me. I pulled him closer by the back of his head. I just needed to feel the pressure of precisely my breed's muzzle upon my sex. I exhaled as the sensation ebbed as if an ocean wave had made it to my toes before receding. I could feel an orgasm building. As it grew so did my potential acquiescence to whatever my perverted brother had in mind. "Whatever you want to do, Dusty, better do it quick," I vented as my heart raced. I could already sense the next wave building just off shore. I hoped it would be the one to take me with it.

Dustin lapped away and only reluctantly slipped his tongue out of my vagina. "You really want this, sis?"

"Depends," I said with warranted caution.

"Turn around," he said.

I did just that, arching my butt out and bringing a paw to my spread my lips. I figured the time had come for Dustin to pounce me. I felt more than ready for that. In my carelessness I swatted my brother across the face with my wagging tail. "Oops," I said, "sorry," apologizing for that damn appendage.

"Hey," he said. His paws rose to deflect the next slap from my wet drooping tail. "Comes with the territory."

"You just got me excited," I said. "You know that thing has a mind of its own." I willed the thing to steady and wisped it to the side, flagging for my brother. I expected him to mount me any second. That mating thrust never came. Both his paws moved to my butt and spread my cheeks. Dustin must have wanted another look at me, I guess. It made me blush. I never really cared for getting inspected under the tail, even after all we'd done together I still had my small collection of things I felt shy about. That pink furless star beneath my tail ranked pretty high on that list. Dustin slyly rubbed the fur away from that exposed spot of wrinkled skin. "Hey now," I said, peering over my shoulder, braced against the wall for the imminent pounding.

"I can't believe I'm gonna try this," Dustin said rather cryptically.

Then I felt it. A nose wedged between my butt-cheeks. A wet furred muzzle kissed my tail-hole. My ears perked to attention. "What the fuck are you doing, Dusty?" I said, trying to make sense of the odd sensation.

Dustin pulled off, looked at my tail-hole then applied a broad lick as if it would be the last he'd ever get. "Figured it was worth a try," he said.

"Eww, you just licked my tail-hole, didn't you?"

"Been working myself up to that, yea."

"Sick puppy," I said. "You kiss me with that muzzle?"

"Relax, you know I just scrubbed ya down there. You know I've got dirty thoughts about you, sis," he said, tail wagging.

"Come on, get your nose out of there."

"Why is this off limits?" He said, crooking his head adorably.

"It's my tail-hole," I said, as if that were an argument.

"So," he said. "Just part of you."

"Dusty," I reprimanded with a tone of disappointment.

My brother beamed up at me from his squatting position beneath my tail. He gave me the best sad puppy-dog eyes I'd ever seen on the bastard. His wet fur made him look artificially pitiful.

"Fucker," I said, recognizing his...effective strategies. "If you want," I resigned, "it's your muzzle." I felt the tingle subside in my belly and I still felt way too aroused to blow this chance. "But you're brushing your fangs and using mouthwash afterwards and don't even think of kissing me."

"Fair enough," he said and immediately parted my butt-cheeks again with his nose.

I took a deep breath and took the position I had a moment earlier, one that would have been better exploited with my brother behind me pounding his knot into my vaj, despite my warnings of potential fertility. I rolled my eyes and stared at the old, ochre tiles and wondered who the fuck would tile a bathroom this color. Dustin repositioned himself beneath my tail. Six months into our relationship and he still pushed boundaries. He inched closer a moment later then nuzzled between my cheeks again, licking away at my bare spot with all the eagerness and endearing curiosity in the world.

It honestly didn't do too much for me. It wasn't bad, but two and three minutes in I didn't feel the same as when he went at it on my front hole. It did have something oddly soothing about it. My brother's broad canine tongue lapped away at my wrinkled skin, aiming for the very center. He certainly left me cleaner than I'd ever felt before. Things changed for the better after my paw wandered, inching down the tiles and crossing over to my pubic fur compelled by an involuntary urge. My fingers began to play with my labia in search of the firm bump tucked beneath my hood, screaming for attention. The immediate little sparks of pleasure traveled up my spine.

Meanwhile Dustin began to concentrate on my ring. A positive thing I can say about having a canine tongue lapping away at my tail-hole is that it has a way of loosening you whether you like it or not. I'd clench shut when the feeling became too odd, but my brother's persistence kept making me relax. After a while he managed to thrust himself in. I sighed upon the tiles as even that part of myself gave way. It was a sudden sensation to feel him wiggling within my ring, spiraling into my body's most personal, private, and modest spot. As Dustin made out with my tail-hole I'd conjured up that orgasmic wave and willed it close enough to lap my toes. Sadly my brother pulled away, slipping his tongue out of my passage. He kissed my wrinkled patch one more time and rose up, hugging me from behind.

My brother brought his erection beneath my tail and guided it along my crevice, rubbing his tip against my pucker. He said, "you know you were saying this wasn't a safe day? This might be a way around it."

"Dusty," I said, singing his name implying he should be ashamed of himself.

"Come on," he said, nuzzling my neck with his dirty nose. "I want to cum in you so bad. It's been like a week."

"Just so you know, that kind of pillow talk ain't gonna work on any other girl in the world."

"That's why I love you. You put up with me."

"And sometimes I don't know why."

"You're my twin sis. We inherited the perv gene."

"You're too big," I said.

"That's what you said about it when I took your V. Now look at us."

"What if it's dirty?"

"We're in the fucking shower. Soap off and we'll pretend this never happened."

"If it hurts?"

"Then I'll stop."

I sighed in resignation. "If you really want this, then..."

All of a sudden Dustin was gone. He pounded out of the shower leaving the frosted glass door wide open. He hopped around like an idiot with a hard-on, going through the medicine cabinets and getting everything soaking wet in the process. "You're letting in a chill," I said. "What the fuck are you even doing?'

"Fuck yea," he said and pounced back into the shower with me, slamming the glass shut. He held a little tub, a container of Vaseline we unusually used in the winter when our paw-pads got chapped and cracked. "This will make it easier," he continued, popping the lid and scooping out a generous glob of the thick stuff. "Otherwise it will hurt like fuck for the both of us."

"Vaseline?"

"Yea," he said. "This'll need lube. Now tail-up for me, sis."

Suffering the indignity, I knew the position to take and I sighed again. Dustin smeared the stuff between my cheeks, generously coating my bare patch. He made good to rub it into all the wrinkles. I grunted a little as he pushed in. It didn't hurt, but took some getting used to.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yea, this just feels totally wrong," I said.

"Tell me if it hurts."

My fingers curled into the tiles in need of a handhold as he pushed into me. My claws scratched the surface. When his finger could go no further, he set down the tub and leaned against me and nuzzled my neck. His paw snuck around my tummy and drifted into my pubic fur only to find mine already there playing with my sex. Together our fingers flicked through my aroused lips, making the whole experience far more pleasurable. His finger curled inside my tail-hole, probing around to test what my insides felt like. The same curious sensuality he demonstrated when we first began to paw each other off made a renewed appearance. Paw-pads stroked supple internal walls as far as he could reach. He began to pump in and out, following the contours and the curves of my passage, more than touching, more than feeling me in a profoundly intimate way. My ring flexed on my brother's digit, but didn't hamper him in the slightest.

"Is it clean?" I whispered, almost too shy to ask.

"Yea," he whispered back, and kept moving, working a second finger beside the first. Slow and sensual his fingers stretched and V'ed between the soft tissues and slick warmth of that region of my feminine body.

I began to sigh. How many times was it now that I felt my brother's naked body beside me, his breath against me, and his paws sweeping over my erogenous zones while I wondered, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

After he thoroughly acquainted himself with the inside of his sister's tail-hole Dustin's paws left both my entrances. He reached down for that little tub and scooped up another gob of Vaseline. This he smeared on his preing length. "Ready sis?" He asked, nudging the stream of water out of the way and getting into position behind my flagging tail.

"I guess," I said, looking over my shoulder. "If it hurts, stop," I added.

"If it hurts, I'll stop," he confirmed. My brother gave his manhood a few more strokes, making sure his improvised lube coated him evenly. Then he leaned in and guided his warm tip to my wrinkled bare patch. His blunt point poked me in the star. "Relax," he said, keeping his arousal aimed directly at my most intimate spot.

I took a deep breath, then another, as if anyone could relax on command. I tried, seeking Zen and willing one little muscle to lose up a little. A moment later the pressure on my tail-star increased. Dustin pushed his canine point against my opening. I felt my tail-hole open and stretch around my brother's girth. I sung a gasp as the collie's cock slipped through my ring, finding little in the way of resistance other than virginal tightness. It didn't hurt; I just didn't have anything in the world to compare it with.

"You okay?" Dustin asked with his cock-tip in the disconcerting side of my muscle.

"I'll be fine," I huffed, widening my stance. It felt hard to even stand with very specific nerves reporting unfamiliar signals.

Dustin hummed his aroused growl and continued his advance. My brother's canine phallus slowly filled my tail-hole, his dark pink vanishing into my stretched ring. He parted walls and graced anatomy that even I never dreamt of touching. The uncanny fullness spread deeper and deeper still, familiar yet strange. My vagina however, felt perplexingly empty. The inward glide proceeded smooth and unobstructed until my brother's knot wedged between my cheeks. I didn't feel any pain, though the sensation of a foreign object shoved where foreign objects tend not to go couldn't exactly be called comfortable. I sighed with relief after my brother hilted me. My fingers played my clit like an instrument in an effort to translate the new and strange sensation into something I could live with or better yet enjoy. My legs felt weak. It wasn't easy to stand upright with a rough collie's hard-on reconfiguring my anus. "Oh god, Dusty," I whispered to the tiles. If it wasn't Dustin behind me, if it were anyone else's cock, this would have been enough for me, a failed experiment. I trusted Dustin like no one else on earth. I would let him continue, I decided.

"How are you doing, sis?" Dustin asked, lovingly nuzzling my mane. His paws wrapped around my body. One came to my belly and the other went for my pubic fur. His paw came beside mine, bumping into it as my fingers rubbed back and forth over my labia. "All in," he added.

"I'm fine," I said, but the words came out distressed.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Shut up and do what you're gonna do. Not sure how long I can keep this up."

"Fuck, you feel good," he said as he began to withdraw. "Be happy we're not Great Danes." A short slide later and he re-hilted, parting my rectal walls with his cock-tip.

I bore my fangs and braced myself for the onslaught, sucking in air through clenched teeth. I grunted as Dustin prodded away beneath my tail, hard at work painting my insides with canine pre. One of his fingers, then two, wiggled into my vagina and started stirring around the buildup of slick arousal. My paw took a momentary break from clitoral stimulation to push on my brother's, needing to feel him press against me with the same force he worked me over with on the other end. From that moment on we worked as a team. Dustin probed my pussy while I played with my clit. The results I had to say, giving due credit to the thrusts I took from behind, sent me on a rocket ride back to the edge of orgasm.

Dustin's muzzle hovered around my ear level as he made love to my tail-hole, rearranging my colon to his perfect dimensions, proving that we as fraternal twins were truly built for each other. Even with my ears humbly swept back his panting and his animalistic humming came across loud and sensually close. The sound of his hips thumping against my butt echoed in the shower as did the sound of wasted running water. Our dad would have killed us for that misuse alone. I settled into the new form of incest, beginning to not just tolerate, but enjoy the new set of sensations. I learned I could flex my ring and hug my brother's bare maleness as he slipped through, gripping his canine flesh with all I had the same way I would during conventional trysts. He signaled he enjoyed this with a nuzzle and lovingly whispered, "Oh fuck, sis, you're fucking tight," in my ear.

The words made me blush. What would love with Dustin be if it were not for the vulgarity in the heat of things? My brother's unpretentious and naked honesty was a factor in my attraction to him, and a chief reason for why I tail-upped for him so often. For all his faults and perversions, I loved him. That's why I gave him my virginity, that's why I made him my mate, that's why I let him invade my tail-hole in a sincere attempt to claim it with cum. No, that's not correct. No amount of love could have made up for the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed every spry step we took on our path to hell.

As Dustin's movements grew ever more intense I found his weight pressing me into the wall more with every thrust. It became impossible to resist the force and my arms bent until my breasts and cheek pressed against the ugly tiles. I panted heavily, grunting more vocal than ever before, gazing with indifference over the grid like pattern beyond my nose as a collie's cock-tip jabbed deep in an unaccustomed corner of my body. Both our wet paws concentrated on my pussy, feverishly bumping together over my labia. Dustin sensuously felt around inside my vagina in pursuit of my g-spot while I hastily rubbed my hood over my erect clit. That wave I'd sensed earlier approached anew. I could almost visualize it cresting, hovering over me like my grunting brother. I braced myself, ready to get taken away. I held my breath, not knowing whether to thrust my hips backward or forward. Finally that wave crashed over me like a warm rain the moment Dustin shifted and jabbed an extra deep part of me with a sequence of rapid thrusts.

My muzzle opened and I exhaled against the tiles with a minute grunt. I almost collapsed, only my brother's weight pinned me to the wall. Genital twitches jerked though my lower belly. My pussy quivered around my brother's fingers and my clit throbbed beneath my paw-pads. Every deep, visceral spasm must have come across as a perverse little confession of my enjoyment, a fact Dustin would no doubt remind me of next time he was in the mood for this type of fucking. My tail-hole too flexed, or at least tried to flex shut on the invading member. Neither Dustin nor I let the palpable twitches slow down our fingers. Okay, I thought to myself in the only words of clarity to bear any coherence in the cacophony of orgasmic signals, so this is why people have anal sex.

Dustin hilted my body with all his might, shoving his cock as deep as his knot would allow in an instinctual urge to breed. There was no need for a conversation about where to put his load. My brother authoritatively took the liberty of choosing where he should put it. "Fuck," he huffed upon my ear as his girth twitched within my quivering ring. Though I couldn't sense it directly, that profanity and the gruffness of my brother's movement were all I needed to inform me of the unstoppable bursts of hot collie semen spilling into my rectum. He assertively thrust in midst of climax, driving his knot to my stretched ring at the apex of each internal spurt. My brother's cum shot into my tail-hole, claiming that virginal territory in his name.

He cursed again, driving his hips forward in an unrestrained effort to mark my depths in a way I would be sure to remember. Rather than profanity I uttered my brother's name as he pressed into me from behind with those virile marking thrusts. I felt a new and much more effective lubricant touch internal tissue and spread to my delight. There is an intimacy to trading fluids I'd grown increasingly aware of. That intimacy became my craving, the poorly thought out reasoning behind all those scares and escalations. I pushed back this time knowing it was safe. I accepted the canine cum splashing through my body and panted with delight.

I surprised myself by humming a tone of approval when my brother finished cumming and his movements slowed to the self-indulgent after-thrusts stirring the flood of fresh sperm now lining my tail-hole. My body had been pushed into the corner of the shower. Dustin's finger wiggled inside me as if to coax my pussy into contracting for him one more time. I politely nudged Dustin's fingers out of my vagina, but he refused to let go entirely. He covered my sex with his palm and sighed into my ear. In my post coital vulnerability I let him take possession of me as such. It felt good to be so insatiably desired. My paw came to rest upon his and held him there, caressing the back of his paw in reward for a job well done.

"How was it?" Dustin said, nosing through my damp mane.

"Intense," I replied, flinching and adjusting to life with a sorer and looser tail-hole.

"You like it," he said, sounding more like a statement than a question.

"Better than I thought, but this better not become your idea of birth control, okay? Consider this a one-time thing. Because I love you," I said, affectionately nuzzling my cheek against my brother's muzzle.

"Aww," Dustin moaned, and began to lick my fur as if to get me to reconsider. He wiggled his hips in order to keep his shrinking cock inside of me. I felt like more of a deviant than ever, well aware the thick, sticky rough collie sperm now at home in my intestines.

"Quit it," I giggled in post orgasmic sensitivity. "What I say about kissing me? Tail-hole breath! Eww!"

Dustin just chuckled and assaulted me with affection. He lapped away at my chin, aiming for my lips.

"Quit it!" I said, trying to resist. I pushed against the wall but with Dustin's weight on me and my limbs still weak from climax I couldn't get him to budge. He licked my lips directly and I spat out. "Quit it," I said again, giggling more. "Eww, sick puppy. Quit it!"

My words of protest kept getting more and more giggly, less capable of being taken serious. Dustin chuckled too, laughing either at or with me as I squirmed against the tiles with his penis shoved inside my butt. The sound of both our laughter reverberated through the steamy bathroom, past the frosted glass. The old battlefield of our sibling rivalry now bore witness to the lighthearted snicker and hum of former belligerents. The taboo we'd brought under our father's roof brought me closer to Dustin than I'd ever imagined, though neither of us knew that our secret had already fucked up our family's bloodline. The giggling and the chuckling only ceased after I agreed to kiss Dustin, after I realized that was the only way to get him to let go. Our lips met a final time and I didn't regret it, even though the water spilling down behind us had grown cold.

Not long after that I did what I would never have dared mere months before. I couldn't have done it, had I not learned to take confidence in my behavior and in my body from Dustin. He showed me so much love and treated my body with such respect that I couldn't help but take pride in it myself. I wore my binder to school one day, just out of the blue. I did it with satisfaction. I wasn't ashamed of my breasts, no, nor did I really want to be a guy, it was just a practice that let me feel that confidence. If someone noticed and said something snide, which a few people did, fuck them. For the first time in my life I wasn't bothered by what other people thought, of course with the exception of that one secret concerning Dustin and I. I just wish that time could have lasted longer than it did.

"There's something a matter with you, isn't there?" Bryn said, as we walked side by side en route between our lockers. By the superfluity of pink hearts stapled to the bulletin boards I believe this occurred around Valentine's Day.

I immediately felt my heart accelerate and swept back my ears anticipating the appearance of a blush. "What do you mean?" I said. My voice had a nervous quiver to it, one that I knew happened only when I tried to disguise dishonesty.

"I'm not sure what's up. You look...weirder than usual," the greyhound said. "You look like you lost weight. You're super skinny all of a sudden."

"I guess that's a good thing," I said, straightening myself out as I walked, glad this wouldn't be another one of those relationship conversations.

"Not dabbling with anorexia, are you?" Bryn asked.

I chuckled nervously. "Nah," I said. "Never been the type to emulate teen made for TV movies. Not that type of girl."

"Just joking," she said, "but you do look weird."

"Always a compliment," I said and shook off some related anxieties with a smile.

"Tell me," Bryn said. "New wardrobe? New flannel? It's really starting to bother me."

"I'll tell you when there's nobody around," I said, rounding the corner to Bryn's locker.

"Shame on you. You shouldn't keep secrets," Bryn said.

"Not keeping any secrets," I said, lying to my best friend. "Of course I'm gonna tell you. Just not when there are people around."

"Tisk tisk," she said as we stopped by Bryn's locker. The greyhound intentionally took her time, waiting for the traffic in the school's hallway to die down to a trickle, at the same time threatening to make us tardy for the next period. "Shoot," she said, slamming the locker.

I dropped my backpack, shrugged off my flannel and stood profile. "See," I said, smiling and slyly peering at her through the corner of my eyes.

"What did you do? What happened to your boobs?"

"I just strapped them down," I said. "Think I look good this way?"

"No way," she said. "You didn't?"

"I'm doing it," I said, as the first warning bell rang.

"Turning up the dial on the tomboy thing, I see."

I nodded and slipped my arms back into the sleeves of my heavy flannel jacket.

"How does it feel?" Bryn asked to my surprise. "Can you breathe alright?"

"I can breathe just fine. Feels weird at first, tight, but I don't even notice it right now. I mean, I do notice it, all the time, but in a good way."

"Has anybody else noticed?"

"Yea, but like I just did with you, I have to drop hints before people get it."

"You don't, like, want to cut them off, do you?" Bryn asked, rather concerned.

"Hell no," I said, ears crooked, "I like 'em just fine. Don't want to lose them at all."

"What are you using?"

"Just some spare stretchy cloth and some bandage clips."

"How'd you get the idea?"

"Been doing it since they came in. Just never went out of the room like this before."

"Why?" She asked.

"Why never leave the house or why do this to begin with?"

"Both."

"Well, part of it's just me being a shameless tomboy. You know. Growing up in a house full of guys. Bad habits rub off. The other, well, it just feels good. Secure. Changes your posture. You ever have the feeling that wearing an article of clothing, a costume, or a hat or some crap gives you like, a confidence boost?"

"Oh, I get it. You know my parents. I wasn't allowed to dress up for Halloween. Religious, ya' know? I don't know if you remember her. Jade, that one feline from grade school. Moved away during 4th grade I think. I was at her house once. She let me try on this; I guess you could call it a pirate-queen costume, or at least something vaguely nautical. Something she wore for a Halloween one year. I loved it. I wore it the entire night, until I had to leave in the morning. The whole family must have thought I was weird, but I think they just felt pity. Everybody knew my family. Must have thought I grew up repressed and indulged me. They were hippies, you know, compared to my parents. I just enjoyed the feeling of being something else. Felt kind of naughty. I liked it."

"Exactly."

"Don't you grow out of that phase? Isn't that something kids do?"

"Says who? If it feels good? People barely notice anyway."

"Can I try?" Bryn said to my surprise.

"What do you mean, like now?"

"Oh, no, I mean, next time we hang out."

That moment the bell rang. We looked around. The halls were empty. I personally fought the compulsion to run off and bolt to class before I'd get hit with a penalty. Bryn, however, stood still as if unperturbed by the threat of consequences. She looked at me expectantly, making it clear just how far out on a limb she'd put herself. "Sure, I guess," I said. "Come by sometime." We looked at each other, suddenly growing more aware of where we stood and that we were irredeemably late. That well-behaved kid compulsion kicked back in and we both ran down the hall like schoolgirls, rounding the corner toward French with the clatter of toe-claws on the gray floor tiles.

Bryn stopped by much sooner than expected. The pretext was some French test, or something along those lines. She ended up closely following my Crown Vic back to my place on an afternoon Dustin was home, but off doing his own thing with the Datsun. After a quick greeting and conversation over diet drinks downstairs, one where Dustin and I did our best to not show any affection, Bryn and I went upstairs to practice the French conditional voice conjugations. Bryn thought they were easy, but I tended to struggled with them. For the first time in quite a while, at least it felt much longer than it'd actually been, I felt a peculiar tension, like the early days when Dustin pushed porn on me. Would something happen, or wouldn't it. What could I even expect? I didn't know and that was the thrill. You don't get to feel that very often in life, so enjoy it when it comes around.

"My problem is the exceptions," I said in French.

"Oh come on, there are only like twenty irregular verbs in the conditional. Most irregular verbs use a regular stem. Look, the professor even gave us a list. All you have to do is memorize them. Relax, it's not like this is German," Bryn said, in a much more fluent and beautiful pronunciation as I ever could achieve.

"I know, but then I tend to forget that they are irregular. Look," I said, pointing at the previous night's homework, "all wrong."

"That was dumb," she said quite honestly. "You know what's stem changing and what's not. You're using stem changing verbs correctly right now. I think you're just over-generalizing. Now you're using the conditional all the damn time, it's wrong. You only use it in hypothetical situations, like you use 'would' in English."

I chuckled, "You just swore. You usually never curse."

Bryn covered her muzzle and inhaled. Even her gasp sounded French. "Pardon me," she said, multiple times.

"It's funny how casually you curse in French," I said, switching to English. "It's like you're a pro at it."

"I'm sorry," she said, switching back into English as well.

"What do I care? I've already dropped like nine F-bombs today, half of which were in front of you."

"You're probably just a bad influence," Bryn said.

"No probably about it. Remember when you're mom called me the devil?"

Bryn chuckled, "Yea, I'm probably not allowed to talk to you."

"But you're doing it anyway, speaking the language of those communists across the pond."

Bryn broke out in a louder laugh, "Yea," she said. "According to her I shouldn't be learning a foreign language at all. Everybody knows English is the Lord's language."

"What more do you need?"

"Exactly. Everybody knows the more languages you know are inversely proportional to your chances at salvation."

"Well, that goes for a lot of things, such as questioning flat-earth theory and subscribing to evolution. Also, I'm pretty sure the Lord frowns on women using smart words like 'Inversely proportional.' That along with your French swear-word probably just bought you a few weeks in purgatory."

"Damn inverse proportionality," Bryn said in French.

We both chuckled.

"Speaking of things that would piss off my mom, can I try that thing you did the other day?" Bryn continued, still in French.

"Sure," I said, switching back to French. "I made you one."

I got up from my desk and went to my chest of drawers. Inside I kept the few elastic bands I'd fashioned into what you could call binders. I took out a fresh one, inspected it for quality then handed it to Bryn. She unfolded it on her lap. It was nothing more than an approximately five-foot long and ten inch wide runner of fabric. It had no details or patterns. It was just a plain, monochromatic fabric I'd selected on the count of its elasticity. Bryn played with it for a moment, discovering its stretchiness. In the meanwhile I went to my desk and pulled out a few clasps from the drawer I kept the most recent snapshots of my brother and I. "What do I do with it?" She asked a moment later not departing from the foreign language, looking up at me inquisitively.

"Well," I paused, searching for the words in French. "You just tie it around yourself." I gesticulated in a circular fashion in lue of a better explanation.

"Is there a special way?" She asked, never departing from French.

"Not that I know of. It just needs to be tight," I replied in kind.

"Can I try it on?"

"Why not?"

Bryn began to pull off her sweater, revealing a t-shirt beneath.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Am I supposed to put this thing on over my clothes?"

"No, no," I said, "but here?"

"Oh come on, you've taken my measurements a dozen times."

"Okay," I said and turned away.

"Can you help me?" She asked a moment later. Bryn was down to her bra. She looked over her shoulder quietly asking for the obvious. I reached over and undid her snaps as quickly and non-intrusively as possible. I took a short stroll through my room, doing my best to not turn around. I walked to my closet and then to my window, gazing outward at the barren trees of the forest beyond my window. "Is this right?" The greyhound said a moment later, causing me to reluctantly look around. Bryn still sat there on my bed. The binder did its best to cover her breasts though her enviably ample bust still shone through.

"I think you need to do it tighter," I said from the far end of the room.

"It's pretty tight."

"I can still see your boobs. You won't be able to hide them all the way. You're..." I gestured, "bigger than me. A lot bigger, but you can do better than that."

"Show me," she said, curiously affirmative.

"You can do it yourself, it's not hard."

"Just show me. This isn't even comfortable the way I have it."

"Fine," I said and sighed. I reluctantly shuffled back to the bed. Bryn made room for me behind her and began to unravel herself. I acted professional; the same way I always act when I'm taking more intimate measurements. With a steady hand and downcast eyes I helped the slender greyhound out of the ribbon until she sat there topless just a few inches away from me. "Here," I said. "Let's try this again. Hold this here. Tight," I said, indicating where she should hold the end. Bryn nodded and did exactly what I said. Despite my best efforts I couldn't avoid a glance at her breasts. It'd be a lie if I said they weren't attractive, or if a naughty sense of arousal didn't rip through me the moment I saw her. My months of experience with Dustin made me aware of my weakness for naked fur. Like I said, I acted professional and covered them up one layer after another, tightly as to flatten them against her chest. When I adhered the fasteners to the fabric upon her back her breasts weren't gone, but I'd managed to reduce them to an A-cup at most. "Tight?" I asked in my accent laden French.

"It's okay," she said and stood when I indicated I'd finished. She walked in front of my mirror and looked at herself, from the front, side and back. "They're not gone," she said, as if disappointed.

"They're too big," I said, from my awkward spot on the bed, "but you look good."

"Can I borrow one of your shirts?" She asked.

"Sure," I said and walked back to my chest of drawers. Out of another drawer I produced one of my favorite shirts, one from a heavy metal band my eldest brother liked. I chose it for her more as a joke, something to augment the unlikelihood of what I was getting Bryn into. I tossed it to her and she slipped it on without question, admiring herself in the mirror. "It's better with a shirt on," she said. "Can't see anything."

"It really is," I said. "Can't completely hide mine either, but in clothes you look like a boy."

"Can I try some other things on?"

"Help yourself," I said, offering her my meager wardrobe.

Bryn spent a good half hour going through my closet and my chest of drawers. It's not like I had a diverse collection of clothes, but she took her time looking at all my jeans and flannels, the military surplus, and the few more feminine things I had. She settled on a pair jeans once owned by Dustin, a flannel that belonged to Nate, and a trucker cap I made my dad buy for me at a gas station when I was sixteen. I never really identified with girls very much, so I'm not sure how they feel about showing off their wardrobe. From television I'd gathered teen girls loved to show off their possessions, that they were supposed to play dress-up, and do make-overs and all that nonsense. I hated it. Even though Bryn was the most trusted friend I'd ever had, and next to Dustin, the most trusted person in my life, it made me nothing but uncomfortable to see her go through the rack of hand-me-downs I called my wardrobe, and even more uncomfortable when she discovered a drawer full of boxer shorts.

"You wear these?" She asked.

I nodded, ears swept submissively, fighting the blush of a lifetime.

"A-ha," she said, in a way hard to tell if she was surprised, or mocking me. "Can I try a pair on?"

"You want to wear my underwear?" I asked, staring at the fellow canine in complete disbelief.

"If you don't mind. I've always wondered what they felt like."

"Sure, I guess," I said, feeling completely unqualified as to how to deal with the situation.

I turned around out of professionalism, but then decided to spin back Bryn's direction. I watched, anxiously shifting my weight from foot-paw to foot-paw as the greyhound unbuckled her pants and slipped out of her jeans, exposing her underwear and bare legs. I was too young and inexperienced to enjoy the show. It confused me more than anything else. I found myself gazing at her, unable to pull my muzzle away as she let her underwear follow the course of her pants down those slender legs, exposing her bare butt. If anything I felt the same anxiety that all but incapacitated me when forced to change in front of others in the locker room. Fuck, I was glad I wasn't a guy. What a curse it is to be born with a sheath and dick that acts on its own accord. Nonetheless I felt paralyzed, fretting the appearance of some automatic physiological response that could betray perversions I didn't even want to know I had.

Luckily Bryn didn't indulge me with her nudity for long. I could tell she was as out of place in her bare fur as I was as her spectator. She quickly guided my boxers into place, without explicit portrayal of her gender. "How do I look?" She said, a moment later, looking down at herself and my plaid boy-shorts.

"Very masculine," I replied.

"I get why you do it. It feels pretty good, I have to say."

"Doesn't it?" I agreed.

"I wish I could wear this to school," She said, spinning in front of the mirror.

"You can keep those," I said.

"Trust me, if I went home like this, or if my mom found these, you'd never see me again."

I chuckled as if what Bryn said was a joke, anxious to the point of uncomfortable.

She sat down beside me on the bed and pretended to stare off into my open closet the same way I did. I scooted over creating a few more inches between us and leaned forward as if indifferent. My paws, which I didn't know what to do with, clasped my knees. "Am I pulling it off?" Bryn asked.

"Very well," I said, looking up at her. I caught the look in her eyes, an anxiety just like mine, and sadness, the kind she always seemed to give off, but this time tinctured with a faint hint of hope as if she anticipated disappointment, but had yet to hear the damning shut down. I pretended to fix a stray fur and looked away.

"Do you like me this way?" She said.

"Of course," I replied, resisting the urge to look over.

With that Bryn reached out and put her paw upon mine, resting on my knee. I felt my heart beat faster. Either time froze or I sat there for an interminable moment, gazing down at our crossed paws, shocked and somehow wishing the moment wouldn't end, though I dreaded it had to and soon. I looked up and met her expression. I gazed down her long elegant muzzle into the faint flare of hope sparkling in the great sea of disappointment hidden in her eyes. It hurt me so bad, but I knew I'd have to be the one to extinguish that little flame, the most beautiful and special thing about her. I didn't want to. Saying no counts among the most daunting things I've ever done in my life.

I slipped my paw from under hers and said, "I'm sorry," in English. Bryn's retracted instantly. Together we stared back off into my closet as we both struggled to construct a plan B, which neither of us had on hand.

"Don't be," Bryn eventually said, also reverting to English. That was all she said about it. I'm glad she didn't try to sweep it under the rug with some daft excuse like I would have done. It happened, but it wouldn't happen again. The greyhound got up and gathered her clothes. I watched from my position on the side of my bed as Bryn slowly stripped and took back on her more feminine attire. "A little help," she beckoned after she struggled to undo the clips on the binder. I silently removed those for her then helped her clip up her bra seconds later. It felt like it all happened in under a minute, but she stood before me again just like she came into my room. She handed me the clothes she borrowed, all folded back into a neat stack. The binder rested rolled back up on top. "I think we still have some unfinished work to do," Bryn said, bravely.

"Yea," I huffed and pulled my book back toward me. We finished our French rather quietly. Then our calculus, but after that we needed a break. Bryn excused herself from our homework session a moment early. She packed up in a hurry and almost ran out of the door, but I stopped her. "Don't forget this," I said, offering her the binder I'd made for her.

"Keep it," she said. "Doesn't fit me."

"I made it for you."

"Okay," she said, and put it in her backpack. "It was fun," she huffed.

I nodded.

"Just so you know, I understand why you do it," the greyhound continued. "I felt it too."

"It's really there, isn't it?" I asked. I could tell Bryn was blushing.

"It is," she said and paused, bracing herself in my doorframe. "It's like the costume I told you about. Very tempting. You know, I've felt the same thing about languages too. French, for instance. I'm not the best at it, as you know."

"Way better than me," I said. "You don't even have an accent."

"It feels exactly like the binder. You can slip in and out of it. You feel a certain way when you do. French makes me feel like, I don't know, like some European stereotype; classy, educated, romantic, racy. It's not really who I am, but it's like I'm wearing a costume, like if I speak, I act out what I imagine."

"It really is," I said, trying not to stare. I wanted Bryn to stay and Lord knows I wanted a do over, one in which so much could have gone differently.

"Well," she said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yea," I said, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Take care," Bryn said.

"Take care," I replied and then she was gone. The stairs creaked beneath foot-paws. The front door creaked open then shut and a car crushed gravel on its way down the driveway.

Before Bryn could even make it to the road, I'd collapsed against the door, barring it from anyone who could overhear the faint sniffles that accompanied the teardrops curving down the sides of my muzzle. Fuck, I thought to myself, did what I think happened actually happen? Man, I was a bitch, I thought. I replayed the moment again, and again, and again, until well after it became dark and I knew I'd have to take care of dinner soon. Did I want it? I didn't know. What would I have done if I didn't have feelings for Dustin? Fuck, if I weren't head over heels in love with my brother, would I have behaved differently? Would I have let things take a different route? How far would things have gone? A whole wide world of mystery accompanied those thoughts, a giant pan-galactic ocean of black uncertainty. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, I kept repeating to myself. What mistake led me into an impossible relationship, one that made me incapable of pursuing something normal, insofar as one could call a girl and a girl normal at that time in that neck of the woods. I sat there in the dark contemplating those thoughts; Bryn and the mystery illness that made me capable of intimate love with my biological brother, and the far more tangible mystery illness that had afflicted me again that morning.