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“I thought you quit,” Quinn said from the open sliding door. Damien’s nostrils twitched, scent of his daughter a miasma spreading from the door into the muggy, autumn air.

He couldn’t manage a smile or to wipe the dryness from his throat, so he kept his back to Quinn. Damien lit the cigarette in his waiting paw, the coyote arching his neck like he meant to howl when he blew out smoke. “You’re supposed to be in your room.”

“Yeah, I needed some water and saw you standing here. Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, sweetie,” Damien grunted. He felt the hair on his nape begin standing up. Even the stink of the cigarette and the open air couldn’t keep back the smell of his daughter’s heat. “You know it’s dangerous for you to be outside.”

“It’s dangerous for you to smoke.”

A flicker of a snarl flitted across his snout. “You’re pushing it, girl.”

“Sorry, I just…” the tone of her voice finally made Damien turn around. Quinn already had few inches of height on her father, but it mattered little with how withered and frail she looked. The grey coat she inherited from her mother was frazzled and unkempt where it peeked out from the pajamas she wore. Puffy amber eyes welled with fresh tears, and Damien waved his paws placatingly.

“It’s okay, hun. I don’t mean to get angry with you. I know this isn’t in your control. Just remember you're almost through the worst of it,” Damien said. Still, he did not approach his daughter, that pungent scent of blood mingling in estrus had his sheath heating up without getting any closer. It was day eight of Quinn’s heat, soon the cramps and flow of blood would begin to ease, leaving just the rampant horniness that got girl’s younger than Quinn pregnant without a second thought.

“I just hate being treated like patient zero,” Quinn said, hugging her arms around herself and pouting on the wooden porch. “Everytime I get this way you act like I have the flu.”

“Babygirl—” Damien started, but then sighed. What did he say? It hurt, physically and emotionally, having to share a house with her. That his body ached to put an end to her need, that it eviscerated him to hear her in pain, to watch her cry with every impulse to comfort her feeling dangerous. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Quinn asked, “Should I be worried around you?”

“No, of course not. Quinn I would never hurt you…” the words came reflexively, but the question Quinn asked hadn’t been done in fear. She glared at Damien. “You’re upset with me?”

“Why can’t I trust my father to hold me when I feel fucking awful?”

“I can hold you, sweetie—”

“Then why don’t you?”

Damien took a step back, stunned. Quinn trembled now, close to tears again. “Why do I feel like… if I start crying right now,” she sniffled, “you’ll just watch me?”

She is hormonal, she is hurting, she is not herself. Damien repeated the mantra Lydia had begun to invoke as husband and wife learned to live with a daughter who could not take heat suppressants. Too young to be allowed a hysterectomy, with most forms of birth control and hormone regulation just causing Quinn terrible cramps and blood loss, this had become their family life. They’d moved from the suburbs out into the country just to keep her safe. That pained him, too, seeing how mad his daughter got when they left everything behind for her sake.

She is hormonal, she is hurting, she is not herself.

“Well?” Quinn snapped.

Damien took a drag on his cigarette, then answered, “I only smoke these when you’re in your cycle. Helps me with the smell. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you like you’d want, but I can get your mom—”

The sliding door clapped shut as Quinn stormed back inside. Damien sighed, and took a few steps into his recently-rained-on yard. The grass squished beneath his pawpads, chilly in a way that dampened some of his own arousal. “I’m sorry, baby,” Damien whispered before he finished his cigarette in silence, doing nothing more than watching the half-shed trees at the edge of their yard waver in the wind.

***

Quinn stormed through the house, insides churning and aching, an infuriating mixture of pain and arousal eating away at her. It only happened three times a year, but those few weeks might as well be months with how slow and painful everything became.

And how everyone treated her! Diseased. Plagued. As if being a coywolf in the country wasn’t bad enough. They made fun of her in school for her heats, asked her if she was bleeding the moment she showed any emotion. It made her feel crazy—she just needed someone to tell her she wasn’t crazy for… for…

Oh if her father knew—if he knew! It wasn’t her heat that made her crave his touch. It was the gentleness of his steady voice. The way he could make himself seem bigger than her even though he wasn’t. He was safe. He was supposed to be safe.

She retreated back to her room. A large bay window ushered in light that the forest left dappled across her tangled bedsheets. She crashed into bed fighting back tears, her hands seeking her spade without really thinking, touching it made her breath hitch, but the next moment she filled with disgust. She didn’t want to touch herself. She wanted to be touched.

Quinn knew it would never happen so long as she kept to herself. If she followed the rules. She did not want to hurt anyone, but did anyone see how much she hurt? The coiling pain in her stomach made her curl into a tight ball. She groaned into a pillow, which turned into a frustrated snarl. She hugged her guts, claws pinching into her sides. Eventually this wave of pain would ebb, replaced with an even worse itching in her cunt.

Through squinted eyes, she reached for the phone and noted the time 01:14 p.m. Quinn unlocked her phone and texted her mom, Dad is smoking again.

She didn’t know why she needed to spite her father, but her mother responded graciously with, I will talk with him. He’s just really struggling, dear.

Like this is as hard on him.

It’s not. But it tears him up inside seeing you like this and not being able to help.

What if I want him to help, need him to help? Quinn typed, thumb hovering over the send button before she deleted the message and instead sent, How long are you out today?

I’ll be home by 5, came the response, at which point Quinn made her decision, consequences be damned. Nothing could be as bad as experiencing this pain day in and day out.

Quinn texted back, Okay love you before tossing her phone and shucking off her pajamas. Next she removed her periwinkle panties, the pad underneath them clinging to her cookie. She peeled it off as well, glancing at the congealed mess of pinkish blood and arousal. She went to her closet next, to change, to make herself ready. She would show her father how badly she wanted him. She would show him how badly he wanted her.

***

It took a short walk down to the main road and back down the gravel street that led to their house for Damien to clear his head. Maybe he was approaching this all wrong. With a scent mask he could handle being around her well enough. He certainly wouldn’t slip up, and it wasn’t like Quinn would throw herself at him. Damien could ignore any impropriety his daughter might show so that he could comfort her. He loved her, deeper than anyone except Lydia, he would gladly take this from her if he could.

Damien should tell her that. Tell her there was a lot more he would give up if it would make her healthy, happy, and safe.

The copper-tinged spiced scent of her heat greeted Damien at the door. A knot swelled in his throat, and he wrapped an arm over his snout. “She’s getting worse the older she gets,” Damien complained. His hackles went up when he opened the door, reaching immediately for the scent mask he left hanging on the key hook.

The feeling of something slimy on the inside of the mask made him throw it off with a yelp. Quinn had smeared her juices along the inside in what Damien hoped was a wretched prank.

“Dammit Quinn!” he barked as he furiously tried to wipe off his nose, nostrils already feeling stained with the young woman’s riotous scent. Panting, nose burrowed back in his elbow, Damien went straight to his room to get another mask.

He went to his nightstand, opened the drawer, only to see the other masks missing. Damien cursed and called out, “Quinn! Where are you?”

As if waiting to hear from him, Quinn skipped down the hall to his room, wearing a short red dress that hugged her hips and bust, its hem ending at her upper thigh. An eighteenth birthday gift from her mother meant to “Stop boys dead in their tracks, like I did to your father at that age.”

Lydia’s voice in his head forced Damien to glare at the ground, noticing now drops of blood that dotted the hardwood floor in a clear trail to Damien’s nightstand and back out into the hall. Frustration and lust boiled in his sternum and loins, tipping almost towards an aggression that simmered in his voice as he growled, “Give me back my mask.”

“What this?” from behind her back Quinn produced another white-meshed scent mask. “Here, let me fix it for you.” And Damien watched, wide-eyed, as Quinn pulled up the clinging hem of her dress: red fabric bunching up in her paws, revealing more of the milky fur on her thighs, tinged in places red with her constant dripping, to the swollen, dark spade.

“Fuck,” Damien breathed, seeing that sex clench at being exposed, squeezing out clear, transparent arousal like citrus juiced. His cock ached against the fabric of his jeans as she took that mask and rubbed it over her sex. A short, fluttery little moan coming from his daughter what finally snapped Damien back to his senses.

“What the hell are you doing?” Damien snarled.

“Getting your mask ready for you,” Quinn said before tossing it at him.

Damien batted it away. “You are out of your mind. I’m calling your mother.” It was his last option. Damien did not want to get any closer. He glanced to the window as he fished his phone from his pocket, wondering how undignified it would be to leave through the window to keep himself from her. To get out of this trap.

“Wait, daddy please,” Quinn whined. She reached between her cleavage and retrieved the bunched up remains of Damien’s third and final mask. “This one is clean, I swear. Just don’t call mom, please?”

Damien stared at her a moment, then put his phone away. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I can pretend it didn’t happen if you be good, right now.”

“I can be good, I promise,” Quinn said as she approached him. Her stench had Damien’s cock flushed and pressed tight to their jeans. If he had worn something baggier he’d be embarrassingly erect. Quinn held out the mask and Damien warily took it from her. He sniffed it, catching the barest scent of his daughter, but at the very least not her estrus.

He glared at the smiling girl and said, “This little joke of yours is going to cost—” Blood. The sharp tang of her arousal. The heat of her estrus. Quinn’s finger shoved into his open mouth while he spoke, coated in her juices. Damien’s pupils dilated, he smacked her hand away, teeth chattering as he fell to his knees, panting. She wanted him so badly. All this need weeping from her sex was for him. He didn’t want to think about how much, how deeply Quinn needed him, her father. It couldn’t be any other man. The coyote coughed, tried to recover his senses. Only for his daughter—the wolf in her making her taller than Damien—to grab the back of his head and shove his snout into her snatch.

That thick, swollen spade ground against the bridge of his muzzle, smeared slimy arousal and thin drops of blood across his face. Damien snarled and grabbed her hips, claws digging into Quinn’s flesh. She wasn’t as filled out as her mother, but still had a nice, round bubble butt that Damien squeezed. He should have thrown her off. He should have rushed out of the house and called Lydia. He should—

Quinn scratched behind his ear, and whispered, “That’s it, daddy, you need this as much as I do.”

He did. Years of having to live with this wretched scent. This cursed estrus eating away at him three times a year, tantalizing him, filling his head with lewd dreams and fantasies of bending his coywolf daughter over, and…

“Just follow your instincts,” Quinn urged, gyrating her hips and grinding her sex up and down Damien’s muzzle. The intoxicating smell of her made it harder and harder to think. The flavor of her still seared onto his tongue. He wanted more—perhaps he could just eat her out. Get off without fucking her so he came to his senses, and with both their needs slaked they could pretend this never happened…

Soothing his conscience, Damien growled and stood, scooping Quinn onto his shoulder, who yelped, “Dad!” only for Damien to throw her on his bed. She was panting, eyes wide while Damien threw off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans. Quinn watched as he unzipped, dropping both jeans and underwear in one motion, revealing a heavy-set sheath and sack—Lydia liked to joke he was big as a wolf where it counted. His crimson tip already emerging from the swollen, sandy-brown sheath.

“Oh fuck, you’re big,” Quinn whispered.

Damien ignored her—he wasn’t going to engage with her. He would just get them both off safely so their senses could return to him. That’s the only reason he stripped for her—of course he smirked at how she stared at his endowment, how could any man not be smug when their size surprised someone? That didn’t mean anything.

He crawled onto the bed and spread her legs. Quinn watching, forepaws folded on her chest, tail swishing back and forth on the sheets. Damien, voice husky, said, “Don’t… ah, get any ideas. I’m going to—going to get you off and then out of my room so I can take care of this.” He pointed at his now half emerged, rigid red rocket.

Quinn bit her bottom lip and asked, “Can’t I take care of it for you, daddy?”

“No,” Damien snapped, harsher than he meant, making her flinch. He tried to say more softly, “Babygirl, I’m trying to show you that I care enough to help you, but we’re already taking things too far.”

“Don’t you want me to touch you, too?”

Of course he did. The way her ears folded, the pout of her lip. Normally he would embrace and comfort her like that, but right now he wanted to pounce on his daughter, force his tongue down her throat, teach her every little place of pleasure in her body, make her experience so much bliss that no man would ever compare to him, so she would crave him even more—

Damien shook the thoughts from his head, and he growled, “This is just the way things have to be.” He couldn’t fight his instincts fully, but he could compromise with them. Damien spread her thighs, relishing in how her coyote-coarse fur felt on the pawpads of his fingers and palms. He knelt down, her sex pungent as a corpse flower; the glossy black flesh pouting, parting when Damien spread it with his thumbs, revealing the pale pink of her inner walls. Her scent practically stung at this point, had the panting coyote’s cock already knot-swollen.

Fighting with chattering teeth, Damien dragged his tongue across her fatty labia. Quinn moaned and grabbed the back of his head, that first taste of her arousal eroded his senses. He lapped his tongue up and down her soaking sex, tastebuds scooping up viscous, gooey arousal and flecks of blood. The metallic taste of it subsumed by the tang and salt and heat of her estrus. Each lap of her broke him down a little further, as if what he licked at was his own conscience, eating away at it like it was no more than ice cream: all it took was his tongue to consume him.

Damien snarled as he spread her sex, canines pressing into Quinn’s labia as he wedged his tongue inside his daughter. Quinn squealed, walls cinching tight around his invading muscle. Damien groaned, tongue almost squeezed out of her, but he forced it back in. His palate awash in her estrus, his body trembling as he let the flavor of her overwhelm him. Damien shut his eyes, panting, slobbering as he frenched his daughter’s pussy. The cute little sex squirting more arousal directly into Damien’s maw, making the wolf snarl.

He needed to make her cum. Damien wanted so badly to see her body convulse, just for the pleasure of knowing she was his. She was his. His. He had the right to do whatever he wanted to her. And right now…

Damien’s dripping jaws backed away from her sopping sex.

“D-daddy? Why’d you stop—ahn!” He cut her off by forcing three fingers knuckle-deep into her snatch.

“Impatient slut,” Damien growled as he curled his fingers up towards her clitoris, putting pressure along her g-spot. Quinn’s eyes bugged out and she snarled, thighs trying to close around Damien’s hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

“What? Not had this done to you yet?” Damien said, laughing a little as he pumped his digits. Her pussy clenched tighter. “Just wait, girl. Daddy is going to make you scream.” He leaned back into her spread snatch, left hand spreading her labia wide while the right continued digging into her fertile passage. His digits pressed into the roof of her lower mouth, rubbing little circles on his daughter’s tender walls, making her squirm while he kissed her exposed clit.

Quinn grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it as she howled. Damien had his lips around her button, tongue lapping back and forth across it. The sensitive nub sending arcing shocks of pleasure through Quinn’s core. The tension in her body building up quick as Damien finger fucked her. His knuckles pounding her pussy, tenderizing Quinn’s g-spot until the girl threw the pillow off her face, grabbing her father’s head, claws digging into his scalp as she said, “No more! I can’t—shit God daddy please—”

Damien ignored her begging, sucking hard on her clit, maw still buzzing with the flavor of her sex. That scent became even more heated as he worked her over until she screamed, “Damien!”

Damien shuddered when he heard his daughter call his name. He popped his knuckles free, switching fingers for tongue, lips spreading her labia while his thumb stroked her worked over, sensitive clit. She squirted straight into his mouth. The incredible, crushing clench of her walls forced his tongue back into his maw only for a gush of her cum to flood his muzzle. Damien’s cock twitched and spat precum on her thigh as he held the squirming girl tight. He wedged his tongue back inside her, undulating it, enjoying the rhythmic clenching of her walls. Damien swallowed her tangy arousal, the heat of it spreading through him and breaking down any remaining resistance in the coyote’s addled mind.

He climbed up the bed, over his panting daughter and grabbed her nape before yanking her into a sloppy kiss. Their lips met and Quinn whimpered, throwing her arms over his shoulders. He pushed his tongue in her maw and let her taste the fiery estrus that plagued him. The girl whimpered beneath him. When the pointed tip of his dick brushed her thigh, she shivered beneath him.

He broke the kiss with a growl, reaching down to grab his meaty shaft.

“Fuck, daddy, that was so good,” Quinn babbled beneath him. “I dreamed about you doing that for years—” she froze up when she felt the hot poker of her father’s member brush up against her sex.

It almost annoyed Damien that she was shocked by this. “If you want me to stop you better put up a fucking fight, girl,” he growled down at her.

“W-what about—”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it you perverted slut? Your father fucking you.”

“God, daddy when you say it like that—” she shivered and whined.

“This is your fault,” Damien snarled. “Fucking plotting to make me fuck you.”

“I-I still want you to—”

“You’re a bitch in heat, this here?” His thick girth ground down into her spade, the bulb of his knot flattening it to her pelvis. “Is all you care about right now.”

“Please please please please—”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me. Breed me. I don’t care, daddy, I need you. I need you to use me.”

“Rrrr, that’s right, slut.” Damien realigned his hips, tip pressing to her nether lips. Her cookie clenched, trying to beckon his breeder in. Biting his bottom lip, Damien wedged his tip inside her. Quinn gasped, the heat of her father’s cock suddenly all she could focus on as he let it go and grabbed her by her hamstrings. He shoved her legs back, crunched his daughter into C, towered over her with just the tip inside. “Watch me, girl.”

Heart pounding in her throat, Quinn could only watch as Damien rolled his hips, shaft slipping inside her aching heat all the way to the knot, which beat into her cookie, spread her labia, and crushed her clit against that bulb of flesh. Quinn didn’t even mean to shut her eyes when moaned, overwhelmed with the fullness of her father only for Damien to quickly piston, backwards then forwards, smacking his knot against her pussy hard enough to bruise.

“I said look!” he barked. She flinched, body hot and tense all over as she opened her eyes. Her tongue hung from her mouth as she panted, Damien glaring down at her and making her feel so small. Smaller still, by how that wolf-sized shaft stuffed her full. He hunched over her, still folding her body in two, as he began rutting her, teeth bared. He stabbed deep inside her. His cock pushed up against the firm, spongy barrier of her cervix, knot bludgeoning her clit. It hurt. Sickly and sweet. She ached and howled, and Quinn’s heart soared as she was used. Used like she dreamed, her father turned to a beast by how badly he needed to fuck her. Her. Quinn’s insides were tight with tension, her inner walls being tenderized by the hard smacking of Damien’s cock.

Her arousal spilled in little spurting founts around his shaft every time Damien pulled out. It absolutely soaked the fur of his sheath and balls, which began to wetly clap against her daughter’s equally soaked rear end. The bed sheets already stained by her mess. Everything about this girl something to clean up, something to serve, but no more—now she served his needs. Damien savored the tight, velvet wet that clutched and squeezed his member as he fucked his daughter stupid. In and out, each hard pump making the girl more of an incoherent mess. He fucked her so fast that the bed started to bounce her bottom up into his thrust, and he fell into a rhythm with it, Quinn a helpless fucktoy for her father.

Not that she wanted to be anything else in the moment. Her body coursed with white hot pleasure. Exploding behind her eyes, left her tongue lolling out her drooling mouth. She no longer cried out, but huffed and panted, an occasional weak moan as she got her pussy rammed inward. Each hammer of his knot to her spade another explosion of aching ecstasy. She didn’t know her senses could be so broken down. That her father might transport her to another place of being.

Damien’s hunger, meanwhile, only continued to grow. He leaned closer to her, not pausing as he said, “D-don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. You’re going to be my personal cockslave till your estrus passes.”

“Yes… please,” Quinn whined.

“I’m going to ruin this pussy. I’m going to mark you with piss and cum and my teeth, till no boy will want you, girl.”

God, the thought of her carrying around his scent… she craved it. She wanted his sandy, salt musk to be all she smelled. She needed him to own her. Breed her. Her whole body primed for it. She reached down and spread her cookie wide as she could.

“Please daddy—mmff, knot me—come on—”

“Don’t rush me, slut,” Damien snarled as he jabbed his dick deep inside her. He ground his hips into her, pulverized pussy beginning to yawn around his bulb. He felt her yielding. “I’m going to tie you,” he said. “I’m going to make you take my pups.”

“Yes!”

“Fucking desperate slut. Better daddy breed you than some idiot boy.” Her cunny yawned around his knot now. The apex of it stretched her spade to its limit. At which point, it took a single, hard hump into his daughter to wedge his knot inside her. She clenched down and screamed, pussy convulsing, each clench forcing her spasming inner walls to crush down on the knot right where her g-spot was, intensifying her pleasure. She kicked her legs free of her father’s grip only to lock them around his hips, pulling him closer.

He kissed her, gyrated his hips some more so his bulb tugged on her entrance. Working in short little humps while he snarled, feeling his balls draw tight. Any protest of seeding his daughter long gone from his mind. He bit down on her shoulder, teeth crunching into her flesh, shredding it and drawing blood. She gasped, but rubbed the back of his neck, holding him tight to her as she whispered, “That’s it daddy, make sure everyone knows I’m yours. Only yours.”

Only his. Her words he answered with a groan as he finally found release inside her. Oh the way the soothing balm of his seed flooded her sore cookie. Her exhausted walls milked the pulsing shaft best they could as his cum fired in thick, gooey waves. One rope became three became seven became ten. His balls clenching rhythmically on every ragged breath, body burning bright with the pleasure and aching satisfaction of breeding his daughter. Her womb drowned in her father’s seed, eggs helpless to his potent swimmers. She whined as she felt herself become a mother. Sticky semen coating her insides.

“Oh daddy, thank you,” she whispered dreamily, kissing his cheek.

Damien released his daughter’s shoulder and gently lapped up the blood welling from where his teeth perforated flesh. He kissed her, some of his senses returned as he said, “I… I love you, but this was a mistake.”

“Mmmm, I don’t think it was.”

“Fool girl, what do we tell your mother? Your school?”

“Accidents happen.”

“Yeah, I tripped and fell and knotted you.”

“Hehe, sounds like you wanted to breed me, daddy.”

“What I want and what I should do are different things.”

She kissed him. Damien flinched, but did not stop her from kissing him again. It was easier to let her squeeze on his still hard shaft, let her offer sweet kisses. He couldn’t get through to her—deep in his heart, he didn’t want to, either. He wanted this. Quinn. He just hoped Lydia might understand. Might be able to make both women happy, if he was afforded the chance.