FSE

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A slice-of-life story about a woman and her husband who has become a dog.

I wanted to write a story about the aftermath of a magical situation. Not the immediate aftermath, but several months down the line when the day-to-day minutiae becomes the new reality. The characters barely mention or explain what the tragic transformative event was or even the aftermath of it, because for them this is the new permanent state of affairs. What would it actually be like to be a dog in a modern world, and what it would be like to have a relationship with one?

And the correct answer to both of these questions is, of course, kinky sexy times and fiery hot domesticity!

BACK TO THE NORMAL ROUTINE

"Honey, did you empty the dishwasher?" Helen's voice calls from across the house.

"Yeah, I mean. Everything but the silverware." Zach replies, craning his neck at the sound.

"Oh come on, Zach."

"Love you too!" Zach rolls his eyes, muttering to himself, "Fuck, Helen, you know how long that shit takes me." He is standing on the white bathroom tiles in front of his sink. Helen's sink is to his right and reasonably more cluttered. For Zach, a soap dispenser, a toothpaste dispenser, and a toothbrush are essential and sufficient. He might want to order a new hair brush; he'll have to check online later.

Zach is brushing his teeth for the third time today. He braces himself on the edge of the sink with his elbows, the mechanical whirr of the toothpaste dispenser perking his ears. He brings the toothbrush to his shining white teeth and pink gums and begins a soft motion along his incisors. He's noticed that recently, with all the extra dental hygiene routines, his teeth are immaculately ivory as he flashes a foamy grin to himself in the mirror. His black nose twitches with the strong scent of peppermint.

The toothbrush is held in place between the two pads between his second and third digit. There's not much flexibility or strength in those truncated, black, "fingers" so as usual, he is wearing his tennis bracelet around the wrist. With the toothbrush secured under the elastic band, he completes the dental cleaning in a minute. After a moment of spitting and lapping at the faucet, he wrenches the brush from his wrist with his teeth and deposits it safely into the holder. He hears a clang from the kitchen and exhales through his dark nostrils.

Helen has the silverware basket on the counter by the time Zach enter's the kitchen island. She is dressed in a dark navy, woman's suit, her high-heels discarded somewhere in the short trek from the front door to the living area. She is even wearing tan nylon stockings. There is a warm smell of garlic and butter. The tiled floor is cold on Zach's freshly wiped paws as he trots with determination.

"Here, let me finish." Zach states. He gives the back of her exposed thigh a playful nip, lifting her dress hem slightly in the process. She fixes it quickly.

"No, I got it."

Zach lifts up to his hind legs above the partially open drawer. "No, I got it. Get. Get. Get." He shoos her away with his orange paw and she relents. He watches for a moment as her slightly exposed cleavage bounces in the gray faux-camisole. She sighs and reaches for a thin-stemmed wine glass hanging above the counter.

With more effort than he feels it's worth, Zach repositions the silverware bin, then lets it fall forward with a din of metal on the polished surface. Each piece, he carefully lifts between his tongue and teeth, depositing them one-by-one into their appropriate bins. The feeling of metal as it balances on the enamel of his teeth makes him shiver several times. The fur on his neck puffs outward.

Helen watches bemusedly for a moment before lifting a recently opened bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Her fingernails are freshly painted purple. The cork is stained red as it softly pops again and Helen fills a quarter of the glass. Zach can smell the ten dollar bottle; the oak barrel chips, the sticky hint of sugar, the chemical on the outside of a grape.

"You want?"

Zach drops a fork. "Maybe a sip later. It's too sweet lately. I don't know."

Helen takes a sip herself and leans back against the counter, creasing her skirt. She'll probably need to text Joan about the Anderson house, email John again; fuck him though, it can wait till tomorrow. She takes a deep breath and another sip to calm her mind.

Zach grabs the empty basket in his teeth and dutifully carries it back to the washer. "Loading it up?" He asks, motioning towards the few dishes in the sink.

Helen shakes her head, crossing her sleek calves. "Tomorrow now."

"Cool." Zach flips the dishwasher door upwards with his paw then stands on his hind legs to press it closed until it locks. His back paws scrape the polished stone as he slips a little. His brown and orange tail begins to sway back and forth as he walks toward his wife.

"Sorry babe." He states with a smile. Zach lifts himself to his hind legs again, placing both digitigrade legs tenderly on either side of his wife's hourglass frame. At his full standing height, the upward curve of his long German Shepherd neck fits right in between those two pillowy teardrops contouring her blouse. He gives her a squeeze, looking up from his long muzzle. "Bad meeting tonight?" His low voice rumbles warmly against her sternum.

"No." She returns the hug, giving his fluffy neck a soft squeeze with her left hand. The wine glass finds her lips again for moment. "Well, no. It's just tiring sometimes. Networking. John is still on the fence, but I think I talked him over. He's going with the property on Melbrooke but it's all just a handshake right now. I just need to finish this one. Get it off my plate and he's just hemming and hawing."

Zach kisses her collarbone with pursed lips. "Hemming and hawing."

"Yeah. I get the impression he's just stalling so he gets to have dinner with a younger woman a few more times."

"Well, I can't blame him." Zach grins wide, showing his gleaming white fangs. "But, I can bite his balls off if you want."

She gives his black nose a short peck. "I'll let you know if he tries anything. I'll let you off your leash."

"A dog joke. How droll, missus Handel."

Helen smiles. It was a terrible half-joke, but for her it marked a moment that she thought the last few months might steal from her forever. Contentment? Recognition? The surreal nature of it all hit her hard sometimes.

Every single day, for a good long time, she had questioned her own sanity, her own desires. Even as time passed she would find herself slipping into the malaise of domesticity, then something would click in her head and the entire harsh reality that this wasn't a fantasy would reduce her to tears. How could she accept something like this so readily? How could she not? The twisted state of affairs tricked with her sense of morality and the vows she still desperately wanted to uphold. Sometimes the acceptance came easy, other times it washed over her, oppressive and thick and overwhelmed her thoughts.

And yet there he is. Her husband, forever changed, but still the same. She had seen it happen. She watched him change so many months ago; years now? Those same brown eyes that once looked down at her, now looking up. One minute a man, then a dog.

She feels that tipping point now. The usual emotional trigger welling up in her throat. And yet, Zach is here. He looks at her and speaks to her. And the feeling never comes. It barely even swells in her chest enough to bring color to her cheeks. He is so warm against her.

“Fucking silverware." She laughs to herself and takes a quick sip. “Sorry, I know it takes you forever. I just... wanted to come home and relax. Have everything done so I could just... relax."

His eyes are so glossy they shimmer. Around those waxed edges, the black rims of his eyes are striking as if he painstakingly crafted them with eye-liner. The soft blond whiskers that tickle the tanned expanse of her revealed cleavage. The long, exaggerated smile and perfect orange eyebrows surrounded in deep black fur. The worst part was admitting to herself that he is actually more handsome now than he had ever been before.

"Relaxing sounds good. It's been a long day." Zach says in that voice that crackles low in his throat and lifts to the same familiar baritone. She feels relieved. Relaxed. Refreshed. Adventurous. She had made the right decision.

She kneads the fur just below his attentive left ear. "Mr. Handel, would you be so kind as to prepare tonight's musical selection?"

"Why Mrs. Handel, you may have just triggered my salivation reflex!"

Helen was blessed with a hint of a southern drawl, something she had picked up from her youth in South Carolina. It was rarely noticeable (unless she was angry or in the heat of the moment), but it was a minor bit of flirtatious ribbing that Zach, an Ohio native, held over her from the beginning of their relationship. When they became man and wife, the use of their last names was always accompanied by an aristocratic southern air; heavy emphasis on the “DEL."

Zach waggles his smoky eyebrows and quickly returns to all fours. “Do you mind wrapping up the manicotti? It shouldn't be too hot. I promise it will be my last request of the evening."

Helen smiles. “That I can do." She takes another sip of wine before letting the glass rest on the counter and entering the adjoining dining room nook. The plates and silverware had already been cleared, leaving a fresh vase of lillies, a dormant laptop, and a glassware container stained red with pasta sauce at the center of the floral tablecloth. She gripped the lukewarm square dish by the attached silicone handles and the remaining pasta jiggled to one side. The handles were specially made for those suffering from arthritis and were overly large, which felt solid in her hands, but most importantly very comfortable against Zach's pastern. “It was really good tonight. Did you add something?"

“Just a little nutmeg. Found it on Pinterest." Zach had already found his way to the living room couch, launching himself upon the cushions. Helen had left her iPad against the armrest, which he unlocks with a quick swipe and a passcode with his black index stub. His thin nail clicks against the glass as he opens up Spotify.

The german shepherd scrolls through her playlists and is momentarily distracted by his watch lighting up on the coffee table. He leans over and views the notification which only serves to make him sigh. Sadly, his income took a significant hit after the whole debacle earlier this year. A few of his closest friends in whom he trusted to not reveal his secret had secured his current at-home advisory position at Verizon. Considering his “disability," they were even able to explain his lack of availability for video-conferencing and the company respected his wishes. It kept him busy during the days between home-making chores and guaranteeing all surfaces were disinfected and dirt-free. Sure the chemicals sometimes made his nose twitch, but he has never felt so refreshed, clean, well-groomed.

The screen displays a notification for mandatory Saturday work this weekend. Wonderful. Zach reaches across the end-table with both paws, pressing down the dispenser for strategically placed bottle of skin moisturizer. He presses the dollop of cocoa butter-scented lotion into his pawpads and massages the cream into them, then does the same for his back feet. There is nothing compulsive about the behavior, just reasonable precaution. Paw sweating and the natural tendency for them to dry out and crack when walking was a wonderful new canine discovery. Plus, he will want his paws to be silky smooth for what is about to happen.

Isley Brothers slide their way onto the surround sound system and Zach finally leans backwards against the pillows. His exhale is slow like a cloud of smoke. Maybe tomorrow after work, he and Helen could pass the vaporizer around and get cozy in the backyard. Not tonight though. He sinks further into the couch, letting the cushions send his fur in different directions.

Helen crinkles the edges of aluminum foil, softly shaking her hips to the clean guitar sound. She sets the leftovers against the orange juice on the top shelf and shuts the refrigerator. It's still unusual for her to see actual leftovers. Zach is much smaller than he used to be. Well, at least in some ways. She smirks.

When she enters the living room wine glass in hand, the lights are dim, but an angled standing lamp near the television illuminates the carpeted space. Speaking of size.

"Ooh, someone is really excited." Zach's deep red cock is fully erect providing a striking contrast to the blond sheath below. His orange paw squeezes the length of it, giving it a long stroke that emphasizes the criss-cross of veins in the shaft. His hindlegs are spread wide in the familiar canine repose and his fuzzy white balls are plump like a pair of velvet Titleist against his langid tail.

"Someone doesn't have any clothes to hide behind." Zach arches his back so he is languishing against the couch cushion, fully exposed. His soft tail wags slowly and he curls his paws; the small black tennis bracelet blends in with his fur color to be nearly unnoticeable. His long neck is framed by well-groomed white fur, the orange and black markings along his muzzle trail upwards to his cheeks and above his eyes.

He gives her a sideways glance. His glossy dark-brown eyes are wide. The effect is extremely cute, and Zach is well aware that to Helen, he is impossible to resist. "Ruff. Ruff." He says. “I've been patiently waiting all day."

For Helen, this is the patterned cue for her to answer the challenge. It is technically a practical consideration for them both, but over the last year has improved her sensual response dramatically. She must undress herself. There are still those special occasions when Zach is overcome with the need to forcefully remove her undergarments. In fact, the feeling of a growling dog ripping off her panties is so raw and powerful. But, there are times like these where the complexity and expense of a mistaken claw or tooth can turn a planned session of rough fucking into an apologetic, slobbery, sexless evening. She deposits her wine glass on the coffee table.

This is why she asks for music. First, the hair, brunette with highlights, she unlocks two bobby pins and swings the auburn tresses until they cascade to just below her shoulders. Next, she leans away from her audience, bending at the waist until her dress reveals the line of her pink panties at the intersection between her thighs. She lifts her left leg and unrolls the tan panty-hose revealing soft paler skin beneath and sliding the silky material to the tips of her painted toenails. She spies her husband watching her now with his lips slightly parted, panting around a lolling pink tongue. Then, the right leg unfurls and the nylons lay nearby. She shimmies her hips while watching over her shoulder, letting the fabric of her size-14 dress stretch over her heart-shaped butt and then fall to the floor.

She is more careful to fold the dark blazer as she removes it from her shoulders and places it neatly upon the nearby recliner atop a colorful wool blanket. Then without skipping a beat, the gray camisole with thin shoulder straps is flung over her head. Pink panties, burgundy bra in satin revealing just a hint of areola above the hem of the cups.

For a moment, Zach simply closes his eyes and breathes deep. He can still smell the cocoa butter lingering, the scent of lavender carpet freshener, oregano, parmesan, and bitter lemon disinfectant on the coffee table. The music saunters along with twinkling synths and falcetto, and his ears swivel to the sound of the tanned skin along her hips, the swish of carpet between her toes as they move across the floor. He loves this game of heightened canine senses. Zach can sense the heat between her legs. He can smell her perfume, Lancôme Trésor, the rose and apricot, the lilac essence - lightly applied by request as too much tickles his nostrils - and the familiar scent of his lover's arousal so obviously building all evening in anticipation and it sends his cock twitching.

Zach beckons her with one outstretched claw and Helen obeys, now left with a few strips of satin and silk, moving her hips and tracing her curves with each step forward. She sways closer until her ankles brush the front edge of the soft cushions. She leans over at the waist to emphasize the sensual qualities of her substantial bosom only stopping when her smiling lips are inches away from his panting black muzzle. Zach dips forward to close the distance and nibbles at the spot where her jaw and neck connect, letting his canine incisors catch her skin between them. He peeks over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her curvy backside cutting her silk panties into a V. She shivers as his tongue and teeth delicately work together to give just enough pressure for her to feel the biting trail. Next the collarbone, then the cleft between her breasts, his long tongue taking over leaving a warm sensation that only a canine's slippery organ could provide. She feels a tug, and then a click.

The clasp at the front of her bra allows her uncaged breasts to jiggle downward reclaiming their firm but natural shape. His flat tongue fully encircles her left nipple almost instantly, swirling like a ribbon around the erect nub. Slim and perfect, he takes several seconds twirling his tongue around the sensitive buttons, eliciting a contented moan from his wife.

“You are absolutely gorgeous." Zach says as she shudders at the sudden feeling of his cold nose nuzzling her tip. His soft paw suddenly finds its way to the moist cleft in her pink panties and he can feel the heat of her arousal and the hood of her excited clit. She pulls her hips backwards, teasingly retreating from her canine husband's touch and kneeling in front of the couch. Zach leans backward into the throw pillow, watching her healthy D-cups swing hypnotically while she removes the bra straps from her shoulders.

He's a very leaky canine. Helen is now confronted with possibly her favorite feature of their new domestic arrangement, his thick, god damn impressive dick. Wrist-thick, dripping with excitement, and intimidating, it sprouts from his blond sheath where moisture has already matted the edges where the girth stretches it open. To Helen, there was something taboo and irresistibly animalistic about the club-like shape that thickened like a fleshy porcelain vase at the center and then tapered to a pointed tip like some pornographic fountain pen. And from this angle, it looks especially enormous, emerging from a dog a full foot shorter than her.

"I can never get over how big this thing is." Helen then wraps her fingers around the shaft, squeezing the exceptional flesh with a half-inch of uncovered skin between her thumb and middle fingers. It is wet with pre-cum, shiny with moisture that clings to her digits.

"Best in Breed. Best in Show." The dog replies, adoring the worship from his perch on the beige couch cushion.

"Can I suck on your huge cock, Mr. Handel?" She asks, briefly pressing her lips against the center of the solid shaft and letting them pop from the suction.

Zach's black pawpad is soft as it caresses the nape of her neck. "You like my big dog cock?"

"Oh yes, sir." Helen kisses his shaft again with her full pink lips. She is rewarded with a deep growl.

"Then ask me again."

Helen stares directly into those smug, shimmering dark-brown eyes. She loves to play this little game. "Can I suck on your big dog cock? It's so much bigger than it used to be."

"How big?" For months, Zach had assumed he was cursed with this fate.

"Ten and a quarter inches. So much longer than your tiny old cock."

"And you love sucking my ten inch dog cock." But sometimes, he feels very blessed. “So fucking suck it."

"Oh yes, sir."

Zach growls deeply as the tip of her pink tongue encircles the point of his doghood. With a practiced ease, Helen grips the base of his red cock, right beneath the slowly swelling bulge of his knot. He watches as her head dips lower, her green eyes now locking onto his. Inch after inch of strong, pulsing dogcock widen her lips. He can feel the silkiness of wet lip gloss as it glides along his length.

For Zach, the feeling is overwhelming. Not to mention the size difference between his old human dick and his new canine member, but the thick thing is covered in the type of nerve-ending that used to center directly on the glans. Spread out across the veiny shaft, these pleasure centers create a grid of pin-prick, lower-lip bitingly intense spasms that cause his back legs to shake. He closes his eyes and lets the euphoria wash over him. His lower body is throbbing to the beat of his heart, his fuzzy, white balls already reacting in anticipation, shifting from their natural low-hang, and lifting to the base of his shaft.

He hears a loud pop and the smack of Helen's lips. "You want a taste?" He shudders and exhales through his nose.

Another positive aspect of being a canine allows Zach a bit of extra flexibility that his previous humanity could never achieve. With only the slightest wiggle of his hips, Zach leans forward and gives his own cock a long, broad lick, to the obvious excitement of Helen. Briefly, she joins in and they share the shaft like a mutual popsicle before Helen pushes him back to the couch again.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." And again Helen's pursed lips engulf nearly half the length. She brushes a few stray lengths of auburn hair behind her ears, while gripping the expanding knot at the base. Her lips stretch as her mind recalls months ago and her first oral encounter with the monster and it's carnal veins plastered across its ruddy shaft. It was scary the difference.

She could have fully engulfed Zach's human length with barely a challenge, feeling the head make her gag at only the deepest of thrusts. When she saw this thing, she had to grab a tape measure. Just over seven inches around at the thickest point near the top. It was like a novelty sex toy to her for weeks, something which her mind initially refused.

But the sex. The second she had given in to her husband's attempts, looked away, rose to her knees and allowed Zach to stretch her pussy with that big dog cock, the resulting g-spot orgasm that made her collapse to the bed shaking and satisfied, it rewired her outlook on the situation. Within a day or two, with the help of Zach's dirty talk, she was willing to deepthroat that fat fucker even while it still dripped with her own juices, something she had never tried before. In the heat of the moment, it didn't even matter.

Her hollowed cheeks massage his long length as she plunges forward and then quickly repeats the process. Her hand reaches lower, first pushing into the sensitive area where his cock emerges from his white sheath, running her finger-tip underneath the fleshy lip. Then, she massages his fur-covered balls, gently squeezing the orbs in her fingers, enjoying the heady scent of his masculine musk.

Between long bobs, where her tongue curves and her lips stretch deliciously around his girth, she allows his turgid dick to pop from her mouth and rub along her cheek. She sucks and kisses down the side while it spurts and dribbles precum. His healthy human diet made the fluid oily slick, watery with a very faint sweet taste. The amount of it is always surprises her as it trickles over her fingers, and covers her face. She savors the knowledge that her actions cause such an intense pleasure for her lover, happy to softly lap at the excess.

Zach lurches in his seated position watching the surreal show unfold and vigorous suckling of his wife. His thick knot had already engorged to a size comparable to a baseball, and he feels the tell-tale signals at the tip of his member. Her unrelenting assault makes it clear that she wants him to cum quickly, and while he could have enjoyed this treatment for hours, her enthusiasm makes his lips curl into a snarl.

“Yes, suck that big cock. I'm fucking close." He places his paw on the back of her head, flexing the digits ineffectually, but feeling her hair as it tousles and weaves through the webbing between them.

Helen redoubles her efforts, taking the top third of his length into the mouth, stroking vigorously the bottom portion with her hand. When he feels the tip of her violent-painted finger press against the tight ring of his asshole, his hips begin to buck and his left leg shakes violently, trying to use her shoulder for support. Her head is a blur as it swirls and sucks his thickness. His puckered hole clenches and unclenches rhythmically around her probing finger. She feels the cock in her mouth suddenly go rigid.

“Fuck." The sensation is too much. He can feel his testicles contracting. The delightful pressure at the base, as if his knot is a lump in hose, and suddenly that pressure explodes forward with a long contraction. It is inescapable and with a soft whine to begin it, his voice suddenly contracts and he barks once loudly.

Helen feels the first shot splash against the back of her throat. It is syrupy; more liquid, less human, more of it. And she is used to the rapid-fire bursts as the cock in her mouth unloads jet after jet of cum. There is less of a rhythm as the jets fire erratic, spraying the back of her mouth as her reflexes cause her to swallow. Zach can see the blood vessels in his eyes for a moment. The extreme pleasure centered at his penis hits its peak and begins to ebb again.

And then that feeling of nirvanic stasis as Helen grips the base of his shaft, hard! That squeeze, the pressure of a firm tie; it's like a fourth act, like a switch that pauses his cock mid-climax, preventing him from coming down. Every single time, his paws grasp wildly at the cushions, his neck tense between and panting whine and groan. God, she knows what she's doing.

A thin dribble of cum escapes Helen's lips as the initial contractions fade into a steady pulse. Her hand grips the bulbous knot from the back, palming it like an orange and feeling the pulsing connection between the webbing of her fingers and the fur of his sheath along her knuckles. She lets his steady warm pulses wash the back of her tongue as she suckles on the massive cock in her mouth, enjoying the spasms as Zach continues to moan softly. His eyes are closed, jaw open with a dangling tongue over his front teeth.

A full minute passes and she pops her lips from his cock and brings the glass of wine to her lips again, enjoying the pleasant mixture of flavors. His pulses are less frequent but continue and her chest is splashed with dog cum which she rubs into her breasts with the near-purple length in slow circles.

Finally, she eases her grip on the root of his member, letting it bob and drip. She moves backwards, her knees warming with friction along the carpet. The released and hyper-sensitive cock bobs proudly in the air, a thin white trail leaking from it's pointed tip. Helen gives the stiff shaft a long lick from bottom to top, cleaning off the current traces of dog cum and eliciting a moan from her husband. She knows from experience that while absolutely sensual, his euphoria will die off long before the stiff knot deflates if she allows the show to continue. For Zach, it now takes a full two minutes for the muscular contractions to ease themselves and his dutiful wife knows exactly how to heighten every moment of that time. Without stimulation, his girthy shaft is still sending pulses of semen that land against the fur of his belly. It'll be minutes before it slows to a stop, but the feeling is more soothing than ecstasy.

Helen quickly removes her soaked pink panties. As gracefully as possible, she lifts to her feet, taking a moment to stretch her legs and back, while Zach observes her beautiful naked body with deep panting breaths. He is still panting when she bends forward, her substantial breasts capped with erect pink nipples swaying lower and she initiates a long kiss. Her hands grip the scruff of his neck roughly while she presses her lips against his. He can taste himself on her tongue. Their tongues briefly intertwine before she pulls away again.

"Okay, let's see that thing." Helen moves forward, pressing their chests together on the couch.

"Mrs. Handel, I think you've already experienced the main event." He smirks.

"No, open your mouth."

Zach smiles, then parts his lips ever-so-slightly, extending his tongue to it's full length, nearly five inches from his imposing fangs. He obliges her by opening his mouth wider. The faint scent of peppermint wafts from his pristine maw. Smiling, Helen places one well-manicured index finger on his thin, pink tongue. Slowly, methodically, she runs her fingernail down the moist surface all the way to the very tip. When she reaches it, she leans forward and takes the tip into her mouth, sucking it in until her lips connect to his.

Kissing a canine in full control of his natural impulses is a peculiar thing. While Zach feels himself stiffen with the intimacy and intensity of the act, it is Helen that has become intoxicated by the feeling. Perhaps crossing this taboo for the very first time so many months ago was the biggest initial hurdle. It represented an entirely new and slightly stomach-turning line to cross. The rubbery pink expanse of the long organ, surrounded by a set of alien teeth and a maw that could stretch open wider than anything human. And Zach with exquisite control over the fluttering length; it could writhe and curl and undulate.

But despite and possibly because of this initial impulse towards revulsion, the surprise of enjoyment was that much more pronounced. Once she felt the talented tongue of her lover, she was addicted. Zach could vibrate his thin tongue along the very tip of hers. Then he could twirl effortlessly around every erogenous zone, nip at her lower lip. And the most oddly fulfilling sensation; he could press his tongue so far into her mouth it was like deepthroating his cock. There was something thrilling for Zach and for Helen about a tongue that could make her gag. And the dangerous set of pearly whites surrounding her felt so raw and animalistic.

For now, their kiss is passionate but never that aggressive. A hint of spearmint, a dash of grapes. Zach is careful to match her lips with his and tantalizingly stroke the tip of her tongue.

With her left hand, she leans toward the table and lifts the wine glass to her lips again taking a strong gulp. With her right hand, she grabs him sternly by the muzzle, wrapping her fingers fully around his clamped maw. He can't help but groan at the sensation when she grins and strokes it briefly like a cock.

"Now be a good dog and shut your mouth. It's my turn and I've been wanting to try this for a while." The wine glass is quickly returned to the edge of the coffee table and Helen pulls her husband downward by the hips until he is supine against the couch cushion, trapping his wagging tail in the crack between. The cushions yield under her knees and she straddles the furry blond chest of her husband. She scooches her hips forward and Zach watches closely as her shaved slit glistens with moisture. They both enjoy the juxtaposition of his furry body and her completely bare pussy, so she folds it into her shaving routine every other day. And that juicy set of moist lips is now inches from his black nose. She brings it even closer by pressing on the top of his head. It twitches with her sweet scent and the heat of it.

He extends the tip of his pink tongue from between his incisors, just barely flicking the hood of her clit.

Helen's thighs quiver as she brings her wet pussy down onto that moist canine muzzle. She feels the cold sensation of his black nose as it touches her lips, then firmly grips Zach's black and orange muzzle in her left hand for a moment cutting off his air supply. She feels her pussy stretch, though not nearly as far as the massive knot on the pulsing cock behind her. Then, she lets go of the muzzle and sinks down with her body weight.

"Shit. So fucking full."

When she finally settles roughly on his muzzle, Zach can feel her stretched pussy lips resting on his eyelids. He is completely nestled into the soft couch cushion, realizing quickly the brutal consequences of this unexpected trick. "Holy shit, I love this woman." Is the first thought that comes to mind, even as she begins a slow ascent.

Helen reaches down and rubs her clit as the last of the muzzle is revealed and Zach pants for air. She leans her hips downward for a moment, taking his cold black nose and squeezing it hard against her clitoral button and nearly squeals. She guides it like some sexual toy in quick circles, grinding it.

The dog's flexible black lips are contorted by the grip of her fingers twisting his flews. His tongue is reflexively lapping at them. "This time, Zach. Hold your breath. I almost came right there, and I'm going to make myself cum from fucking your face."

After a brief pause, Helen resumes her fucking, sliding her dripping snatch down the length of that furred muzzle. Zach feels the amazing sensation of his wet fur being twisted in several directions at once as the vixen above him smashes him into the cushion with her ass. Her hand flutters on her clit as she gyrates on his muzzle. The feeling of fullness is amazing, nearly five inches deep.

Her walls press against his cheeks with each deep thrust, squeezing his upper jaw, dragging his lips, and fluttering along his gums with their determined motion. His tongue tastes her juices, sweet as strawberries and tinged with the taste of her sweat and olive oil. The scent overwhelms him with lust, so close, feminine; she is dripping in heat for him. Her clitoris throbs visibly when her thrusts are high enough for his vision to clear.

Zach is fighting a losing battle with the air supply in his chest, and still she pounds herself, riding his face. Between a thrust, Zach desperately extends his tongue, swirling it deeper into her depths than ever before. Helen freezes, her legs shaking. Her fingers are a blur on her clit as that German Shepherd muzzle is shoved as deep as possible into her pussy and a long tongue explores her insides.

It only takes a matter of seconds and Helen's entire body seizes up as she lets out a strangled cry. The orgasm overtakes her and her back arches and Zach is suddenly pressed deeper into the couch, his head no longer visible. The upper part of his muzzle is contorted hard against her g-spot, trapped in the pressure. His stomach heaves for a moment with the impetus to find air, his searching nose fully surrounded by her scent.

He stings her ass with the shaven claws of his right paw and she audibly yelps, bouncing forward enough to allow Zach a chance to wrench his soaked maw from her honey pot. He pants to the side, as she enjoys the afterglow, her face leaning casually against the nearby armrest.

After a few moments, she expels the hoarse words, "sorry." It is half a minute before she slides back down again, scooting her knees backwards until they straddle his chest. When she rests her butt again on his furry belly, she can feel his triggered stiffness nestle itself above her tailbone, ready for action as usual. Grinding her pussy against the bulb at the base of his stiff cock, trapping the thick length between her ass cheeks, she sighs and looks downward.

"Oh wow. You're a mess." She laughs. Zach's cheek fur is wet and twisted, his snout soaked and matted with her juices. Helen traces her fingertips along a small strip of blond fur along the stop of his muzzle, smoothing out the fur. He is absolutely adorable.

"Give me a kiss." He sneaks his tongue to the side through his jowls and lets it creep along her finger tips, making an ugly snear in the process.

Helen squeals with laughter, pulling her finger away. "Hell no!"

"Then, grab onto that armrest, because I am going to fuck your brains out." He snarls and nips her at her taut left nipple, giving it a lick.

"Ooh, yes please, Mr. Handel." She coos and grabs the armrest in both hands, arching her back.

Zach attempts to move, but his hips are caught under hers. Considering his wife is double his weight, moments like this have sometimes required some roleplay. He pauses. He grunts and wiggles, hoping she will notice his predicament.

Once he realizes that she is still zonked out post-orgasm, he pokes her with a claw tip and whispers, trying not to ruin the mood. "If you could lift your leg up, please."

"Oh, sorry, Zach." Helen shuffles forward and lifts her strong thigh into the air.

As gracefully as a fully grown German Shepard with a massive hard-on could roll out from underneath his wife and land on all-fours, Zach tumbles to his shaky paws and shakes his fur reflexively before bounding onto the cushion and resuming a classic pose with his paws on her hips. His substantial cock bobs near the entrance to her glistening womanhood. His legs pace for a moment, getting reacquainted with the balance on two legs.

"God damn, you have a gorgeous ass." He gives one cheek a thick swat with his paw, unimpressed by unsatisfying thud of his soft leathery paw and wristband, but entranced by the resounding jiggle of his wife's backside. Helen sways her hips, wagging that non-existent tail, letting her gluts jiggle with the motion, ever-so-enticingly. "Yes. Fuck me like your bitch."

The pheromones are driving him wild. Zach doesn't waste time with any more foreplay. He aims his rigid cock against her tight opening with a paw, absolutely marveling at how his closer angle to the action makes his already sizable weapon look even more imposing. His tongue dangles from his mouth as he watches her pussy stretch around his canine length. And then, he lets his hips force the blunt thing deep inside her. He has to take a few steps forward on his hind-legs to rebalance himself on the cushions.

Her insides are hot and tight, and he presses forward a second time, feeling the base of his knot barely press against her dripping hole while she whines underneath. His tail goes stiff. The tip of his cock caresses that spot above her cervix and the whine turns into a gasp. With a growl his arms lock onto her hips and within seconds he is locked into a rhythm of hard and deep thrusts that fill every millimeter of his wife's overstuffed pussy and press hard against her womb. His angled and deeply textured cock hits all the right spots, the thick base even smashing deliciously against her clit with every pulsing thrust.

Luckily for Zach, Helen discovered almost instantly in those first few weeks of his change, that the initial pain of an object even touching her cervix did not compare to the wave of pleasure that a consistent pounding created. She was most definitely a woman capable of enjoying two distinct types of orgasms. One clitoral, and one so deep it felt as though her muscles would never recover from the tense contractions. She could barely breathe with the intensity of the sensation when Zach places his dick so deep inside, but she knows, even as she begins to see spots in her eyes, that the stretching, wrenching, hammering blunt feeling of being completely filled and dominated by a rough wild animal leaves her seconds away from a near-blackout level of pleasure. Her toes curl.

On the deepest thrusts, it feels like her stomach is bulging, like she can feel it in the back of her throat; like that big dick is finding new ways to bury the extra inches. And her pussy walls pulse and stretch deeper, letting that blunt cock slide above her cervix and bring her to new levels of pleasure.

“Harder." She begs and Zach clutches her hips with a deep snarl, lunging forward with the weight of his soft chest. Her head is pressed forward against the armrest. Her insides shudder around the meaty shaft and she cries out when she collapses to her forearms, nipples dragging deliciously against the fabric of the cushion beneath with each thrust. Zach's hammers his throbbing length into her with the speed of a feral dog and the precision of a practiced lover, angling his cock until her moans turn into the perfect tone that swivels his ears. Just right to keep the pressure from ending their session too soon; just perfect that he can almost count the seconds until she loses control. Three, two…

“Cum for me." He says with a harshness that shocks her system. She comes loud. Her unrestrained groan like a keening howl as it echoes through the house. Her body quakes as Zach enjoys the rippling muscles squeezing his hard cock. Every third thrust, she convulses again with a throaty scream. Helen gulps for air as the overstimulation pushes her orgasm into the warm phase, where heat radiates from every pore of her body. Her clitoris is on fire as the thick veins along her canine lover's shaft create a delicious friction and she moans again and again. After several seconds, her body fights against itself to gain back control, the orgasmic wave ebbing just as his continued thrusts try to lift her to the apex again.

Zach loves watching her moan and now his thrusts take on a more purposeful aim. His thick knot slams against her opening, and he is ready to find that impossible space deep inside to force these extra inches. Her lips start to stretch around the base and he arches his back and steps forward to cram his unyielding cock to the root. Her ass cheeks shudder around the expanding doghood made candy apple red with the blood pumping struggle.

“Fuck. Zach." Helen grunts as she clutches the armrest. The German Shepard is locked to her hips, his thrusts having a well-trained curve to them, stretching her vagina lips upward as each motion begins and then dragging downward along her canal until bottoming out when she is completely filled. That last part, it finds new space inside her and the knot vibrates hard against her distended clit, trying to slip inside.

She will come hard when that thing enters her. She knows it. She always does. It hurts. It builds, and then it's in and her legs will cease function. Its not just Zach that wants it to happen; she fucking craves the feeling, the fullness.

Focused on his own mounting pleasure, Zach is unaware of his wildly thrashing tail. His right leg lifts to the top of the couch cushion, angling him higher, forcing his weight downward on that singular point.

A tink of glass against the edge of the coffee table goes completely unnoticed to the pistoning canine.. But, Helen, somehow instantly alert, watches in surprise as the remaining wine splashes to the floor and against the edge of the couch. Even after such a catatonic state and with Zach's furry muscles flexing, the event breaks her concentration and she emerges from a daze.

"Glass of wine. Glass of wine. Babe." She points ineffectively as the mongrel stabs her hips.

Zach is unphased and squints at the stained floor. He growls. "Don't worry, we'll get it. Don't..." Again he pushes forward hard, the claws in his toe tips scratching at the fabric. This time with the woman beneath him moving her hips, squeezing him harder.

"Zach, quick, shit it's on the couch too." Her husband is still thrusting forward, and the pressure on her clit is intense as that knot of flesh tries to sink itself inside her. “Stop. Don't tie with me!" She slaps his left paw which is clasped around her thigh, just an inch from that crimson, fist-sized base. Zach continues to thrust in frustration, ignoring her actions.

"Stop!"

With a hand wrenching his paw from her, she turns her hips and pushes Zach away roughly. The result is far more effective than she anticipates and the seventy pound German Shepherd flails on his hindlegs for a step or two, pirouettes, before being flung backwards onto the couch, shiny cock bobbing wildly as he lands awkward and dazed. He is scrunched up against the cushions, fully exposed - his tail roughly bunched up beneath him, his legs dangling in mid-air, his cock dripping on his cold nose.

The feeling is emasculating.

And immediately, he responds sharply like a man unable but trying to regain control. It comes out like a sad whine. "God, fuck. Damn it, babe! I was..." He sputters and moves his cock out of the way by regaining a sitting position, a thin web of fluid following. "I was…"

Helen is now sitting at the edge of the couch. "Get some papertowels. Some of that spray cleaner."

Zach barks in frustration and obeys. He can't control the angered response. In a second, he's sliding his paws across the tiled floor, his awkward erection bouncing against his undercarriage. He nudges open the maple doors beneath the sink. With an audible growl, he grips a roll of recently opened papertowels in his teeth. His nose twinges with the rusty scent under the sink, combined with fumes from various cleaning products within the cabinet. With a practiced flourish of his front paws, the handle of a bottle of spot rug cleaner is attached to his wrist.

Zach limps back to the living area on three legs. Helen has already lifted the glass onto the coffee table and is kneeling on the tan carpet, the puffy red lips of her pussy still noticeable from their fresh abuse, her nipples erect. When Zach arrives, she says, "thanks." And tears a large piece of quilted paper from the roll.

Zach puts the bottle nearby the scene of the crime along with the remaining towels. The impracticality of paws is apparent when anything with a trigger is involved. He feels it best to let Helen handle the thing then look like an awkward idiot trying to aim and squeeze out some cleaner. He notices his own panting. With a deep breath, he circles the coffee table, conscious this time of his tail's motion. A quick jump and an awkward bobble of his erection, he lands on the couch again and reclines onto his back.

Zach watches as Helen dutifully cleans the stupid stain. "We haven't even been here a year, you know. We'd never get this out." She sprays the pink splatter with foaming white and then continues to blot. "Luckily the couch is scotchguarded."

"Yeah."

"Especially with you. That thing of yours is drippier than me." Helen leaned into the stain once more then wiped the speckled corner of the linen couch cushion. Zach watches her lean back and stretch, her large breasts are flushed with just a tiny hint of blue veins showing through under her arms. "You'll have to get the couch again tomorrow. Might as well clean the whole thing, right? You're shedding on the cushion." She lifts to her feet and stumbles her way to the kitchen, cleaning articles in hand.

Zach looks around, barely noticing any strands of fur on the beige cushion. When she returns, her body notices the coldness of the air in the room, and Zach is still leaning sideways on the couch, waiting with a paw stroking his penis. His red hot poker looks less enticing, almost silly, waggling there after the action stopped. She is suddenly aware of the smell; the overwhelming scent of their shared juices combined with the wetness of his fur.

“I'm sorry. You know how I get!" She bends unceremoniously to pick up her discarded clothing along the gray carpet and rushes to the laundry nook with the bundle. The small door swings open and she deposits her shirt and bra into the hamper. The skirt is laid flat onto the dryer and she sighs as she returns her underwear to their former position, covering up.

Satisfied, she takes a deep breath and returns to claim her glass of wine. Zach watches annoyedly from his beckoning perch on the sofa. The last ounce disappears and she twirls the stem in her fingers, savoring the sweet taste of berries as the linger on her tongue after such a satisfying bout.

"What about this?" Zach says, pointing both open paws to his unloved chili pepper.

She yawns and smiles, leaning down to squeeze the black scruff of his neck. "Oh I know you were close, babe. I'll make it up to you next time, promise."

"Really? Come on, just suck me off." He whines loud enough he nearly barks. Helen's unamused look causes him to slink forward a bit. The most silent few seconds of smooth R&B ever, play over the speakers. Zach whimpers. "Please?"

"What are you, fifteen?" Helen shakes her head and makes her way to the bedroom. She doesn't look back as she disappears around the corner. Her voice echoes through the house. "Why don't you suck it yourself? We both know you can!"

Zach mumbles and growls to himself. “I can fucking bite your cunt off too, bitch. Friggin' cock teasing, knot gobbling…" He lifts himself to his paws and shakes his body. The fur of his black saddle rearranges itself to its former sheen and he jumps down from the couch. Then his brow wrinkles as he jumps back up to the armrest to turn off the music which has become decidedly way less sexy. “Grumble. Grumble." He says to himself, before carefully rubbing his eyes with a clawed digit and sighing.

In the kitchen, he grabs a glass from the counter in both paws before hobbling over to the dispenser in the fridge door. He could technically lap the water from the glass, but he finds it more efficient to curl his tongue and channel the water into his mouth. He deposits the empty glass near the sink, belches, and sighs through his nose.

He checks himself out again before crossing the threshold. His cock has retracted into its sheath, down to deep red tip. He waits for a moment for it to disappear to avoid the inevitable 'lipstick' joke and then walks into the bedroom. She's relaxing under the covers, remote in hand while the TV already hums with intro music. Zach hops up onto the purple comforter and curls himself near the pillows, looking away from her. His backfoot scratches his ear and then he settles.

"You got some white stuff on your chin." Helen prods.

"Oh cool, very funny." Zach rolls his eyes. He looks up at a quaint painting of a fishing boat on a lake at sunset covering his side of the wall; an old painting his uncle made about thirty years back. It pairs nice against the deep burgundy. He calms a bit.

"All better now?"

He sinks further into the bed cover. "I didn't do anything. I'm good."

"Here, snuggle with me as we watch some TV." Helen pats the bed, looking over at the sullen mutt. Her husband sighs. She laughs. "Get over here!"

She tugs at him by his mid-section until he relents and he scooches backwards to her side.

Zach is the little spoon. He can see the TV hanging from the gray accent wall. Helen drapes the comforter just right, tucking it in a little behind him so that he doesn't get too hot during the night. Zach never really has trouble falling asleep anymore. He doesn't stay on "his side" of the bed or have to snuggle in some awkward way that makes his left arm fall asleep. They sleep close together and she pets his fur along his neck and ears. The room temperature is kept at sixty-eight degrees. Helen sleeps snuggled under the blankets, while Zach's fur keeps him warm above them. For Helen, the layer of fabric between them is welcome, as is the soft warmth of her husband's furry body snuggled next to her. Even during the nights, with her arm squeezed tight around him like a full-body pillow, they snore ever-so-slightly together, rarely disturbed.

So tonight, as normal, Helen clicks off the bedside lamp, pulls his furred body close and revels in the softness. She strokes his jaw-line, his ears, the scruff of his neck, wondering to herself what the sensation must feel like. And as usual, before the first commercial blasts a song about drinking the right type of domestic beer, Zach is out.

And it's only a few minutes before Helen, snuggled up to her loving canine husband, drifts off into oblivion.

***

Zach's eyes pop open. For a moment they search wildly until centering on the hazy bobbing object surrounded by the blue light streaming through the bathroom door. The pleasure and the insistent pressure on his loins help him make the logical connection. He stretches and smiles.

With an audible pop, both Zach's eyes come into focus and Helen's candy red lips remove their delicious suction from his cock. "Well, good morning, Mr. Handel."

"Breakfast in bed, I take it." Zach replies with a cheeky grin.

"No, just sucking your cock." He feels her unseen hand squeeze his furry balls gently, rolling them in her fingers. She licks him from the ridge of his sheath to the tapered tip. "I keep my promises. Even to whiny puppies."

"I will never doubt you again, Missus Handel."

Helen grips his dick in her left hand and makes an awkward facial expression that doesn't go unnoticed. As the sexual and morning haze dissipates, Zach also notices that she is fully dressed again in a red business suit; he can see the pant-legs and her heels digging into the carpet from where she leans over the bed. Zach's head is reclined into one of several pillows in a bed that is now comically over-large for his medium frame. Helen checks her phone and then places it back into the strap of her bra.

"Okay so a minor hiccup."

Zach looked at his turgid member throbbing in her manicured fingers, then up to her face. Her hair was up. He could see a few crimson barrettes holding it firmly. He cocked his head sideways, and widened his glossy eyes into a sad, sad face. "Yes?"

"Mr. Handel, I have a very important scheduled meeting with a client at 7:30am. Which means that you have approximately four minutes to cum, my dear." She grips his cock now with both hands with easily room for another. "Otherwise you will have to complete this task yourself."

"Then get sucking, my beautiful bitch."

It's early, so she ignores his attempt at humor and wraps her lips around the naked portion of his morning wood. The knot is already forming under his sheath, so she dips her fingers on the downstroke and lets the dual bulge emerge into the sunrise. She looks up into his eyes, only to find them closed. His cock always has a slickness to it, and she can feel it in her fingers as she twists and jacks his lower half, feeling the network of criss-crossing, dark veins under her painted fingertips. She can taste herself on his length.

"He better appreciate this." She thinks, then smiles to herself the best she can while her mouth is stretched around her husband's pride. The things she does for love and the potential for explosive, orgasmic reciprocation. There's no fooling herself; it's pretty fucking hot. She grips his shaft hard with both hands and strokes and sucks with fierce determination.

Within two minutes and fifty-one seconds, Zach's first rope of cum explodes from the tip of his engorged dog dick and into the willing throat of his loving wife, who quickly sputters and slides his cock back to her open mouth for more control. She surrounds the base of his cock, right under the knot with that firm pressure that he loves and dutifully swallows his load. It takes multiple gulps. Zach pants for nearly twenty seconds, his left leg shaking as his orgasm continues.

Suddenly, with a twist of her pink tongue, his pulsing cock is spurting in the open air. "Get up here babe, finish this." Helen points at his dribbling cock fountain, shooting onto his furry ribs when he hesitates at her meaning. A few quick bending motions and he is hunched forward, inches from his own cock.

Helen, with no time to be subtle, grabs the scruff of his neck and stuffs his spurting shaft into his maw. "Good boy." She retrieves her buzzing cellphone from her neckline, and holds his muzzle down around his own doghood.

He's done this party trick before. Hell, for Zach, when Helen is not in the mood, the position is so natural and his paws are so useless for the task, that it's the only reasonable way to get off. Still, he rarely if ever continues to masturbate with his mouth once he starts cumming. And Helen has never put so much pressure on his neck before. The feeling is scary and tremendous, but he would never admit it to Helen.

"Yes? Oh, hey Tommy." Helen leans against Zach, answering a phone call. Zach's own cock plunges deeper into his muzzle, tickling the back of his throat. She can't help grinning as she makes casual conversation with the recent client and applies further pressure.

Zach is so deep he can feel his hefty knot against his incisors. Helen is much stronger than him now and her body weight alone could nearly hold him in place. He gags for a moment, unused to the invasion, unable to pull away, and still streams of syrupy cum fill his maw. It dribbles out of the corners of his mouth, pooling on his tan belly. At this point he can't even tell if he's turned on or if it's the prolonged orgasm sending shivers down his spine. The tips of his incisors press against the flesh of his knot and suddenly he fears the inevitable as that bulb stretches his maw wider.

But, the performance is shortly over as Helen ends her phone call. She pulls him backwards roughly by the neck, watching bemused as an arc of drool and cum lands on his chest fur. She tucks her phone away. With his head now hanging upside-down off the edge of the bed, he feels her warm lips peck his cold nose. "I'll be home for dinner, my little pet." Keys jangle in her fingers.

Zach pants, a string of cum dangling from his lolling tongue and touching the carpet. He pants. "It's taco night." He reminds her.

"Sounds good." Helen grabs her purse from the top of the mahogany bureau. "Let me know if I should pick anything up, I'm stopping at the Shop-and-Save on the way back."

"I'll text you."

He blinks and Helen is already halfway across the house trying to make sure there's nothing out of place in her schedule. "Love you. See ya." She'll have to show the Anderson House. Lunch with Tom. Stop by the notary, possibly schedule an oil change.

Zach's ears perk up, still panting heavily. "Love you!"

He wipes the corner of his mouth with his paw, then realizes his tennis bracelet is now smeared with dog juice. The taste isn't bad actually, not that he'd bottle it up anytime soon.

He stretches his entire body, then turns over, careful not to drip on the comforter. He's still shedding his winter coat, as evident by the fur deposits around him on the blanket. Instead of relaxing to all fours, he slides off the bed, holding his sticky cock awkwardly upwards to prevent it from leaking and waddles towards the bathroom. It's surprisingly not difficult to walk upright, but as he found out quickly in the past, his joints are aching the next day if he does it too much. And it looks as unsexy as it feels.

Once inside the shelter of the tiled bathroom, he lets his deflating penis flop wherever it needs. With a quick tug, his toothbrush is in paw, a dollop is on the bristles, and he is checking out the matted fur of his reflection in the misted mirror. There is a fresh scent of lavender in the room. Helen's sink is to the right, cluttered with various deodorants, creams, bottles, glosses, and packages.

"Definitely a shower." He says to himself, white foam on his teeth. The fur on his shoulders is fluffed with static. "And a brushing. I gotta send Alan that email. Probably should clean the couch. Hmm, I don't think we have any tomatoes. Text her later." He'll probably have to check the weather again. Smells a little overcast, could be the A/C though. If it's nice, he'll put on his collar and go for a run near the woods first.

Fresh towels were folded and placed near the bathtub for him. He thinks about it for a moment and decides he would rather take a bath today. He spits, then laps at the faucet stream, careful to control his tongue as he tilts backwards and gargles. The tennis bracelets fall into the hamper and he is ready.

---Comments? Praise? Constructive Criticism? I crave 'em all---