FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This world was full of wonders. The floor was fluffy - carpet, they called it - and the room was heated and cooled to a comfortable temperature. She lay on the bed, and used a hind foot to scratch at her neck. She knew first hand how itchy being in heat was, but the collar topped that by a wide margin!

Skritch - skritch - skritch.

And of course the only place that itched was the only place she couldn't reach. The metal collar jingled with each scratch, but seemed to be designed to prevent you from getting under it. Frantic, she flipped onto her side, using a fore-paw to shove the collar as far up her bushy neck as possible, using a hind-paw to scratch under the blasted thing. It was squashing her ear, but she could finally reach the itchy spot under it when her grasp slipped, sending her sprawling over backwards. The collar popped all the way off, landing on the floor with a heavy thump, though she only caught a glimpse of it before she landed back hard on her head. Thankfully the floor was covered in that fluffy stuff. Carpet.

The collar lay on the floor in front of her. That wasn't good. Or was it? The first thing she did was to lean over, and finally give her neck and behind her ears a long, hard, luxurious scratch before investigating the hated thing. It was intended to be non-removable, both a form of identification and a way to translate her totally normal barks and yips into their human vowels-and-consonants language. She wasn't allowed to be out and about without it or they might send her back home early.

<_Collar, where can I go tonight?>_ she barked. Their tech seemed nothing short of miraculous.

Except when it only almost worked. "You don't have any curfew, and can leave at any time," the unpleasant, high pitched voice replied. She didn't understand why the humans gave all the females of her kind these artificially squeaky voices that made her sound like a puppy. It made no sense, particularly since she'd already met human females with low voices, and human males with high.

<Collar, where can I go to see this city?> she tried again, leaving a short gap between each bark. Not too long a pause, or it would get even more confused.

"The city of Hargrove is known for Lucky Lane, which is renowned for having a bar for everyone, including the Dogolese," her voice explained.

That sounded promising. <Collar, what is a bar?> She'd studied the English language extensively as a puppy to prepare for this trip, as the collar couldn't emulate the nuanced stresses of her own language. Or maybe the humans were just too lazy to try? She got the impression that they expected her to be grateful just to visit their world of technological marvels. Still, she'd never heard of a 'bar'.

"A bar is a rod, often made of metal or wood. It's usually cylindrical in shape, though sometimes a rectangular solid."

She wanted to bang her head against the wall, but knew from experience that would only cause the headache to get worse. She debated trying to get more information out of the device, but eventually decided not to bother. She was here to explore, after all.

<Collar, take me to Lucky Lane,> she woofed.

"A taxi will be arranged." There was a long pause. "Your estimated wait time is 13 minutes."

Perfect. She looked down ruefully at the collar. Now she just had to get the blasted thing back on.

By the time the taxi driver dropped her off, she was ready to forget the eight minute ordeal stuffing the collar back around her neck had been. “A goormin shipperd!" the driver had said in a thick accent unlike the American or British audio she'd trained on.

“Hello, my name is Wooaoh. As you may know, Dog Earth is an alternate universe where our people evolved separately from yours. While we may resemble some dog brides, this is only a coincidence." Dog brides? She'd been practicing this general statement repeatedly, because the Dogolese had no direct analogs to Earth breeds, despite having evolved from wolves on Dog Earth as well.

“Oh. Zorry," the driver replied, and stopped saying anything to her.

All the better for Wooaoh. She glanced at the navigation screen to see that Lucky Lane was only 10 minutes away, and she lay down in the back seat, unable to wear the seatbelts provided. “Dog Earth". Naturally, they needed human words for all the concepts of her people, but they certainly chose to highlight their differences. And their resemblance to the Earth (not “Human Earth") version of her people where they'd never managed to evolve a spoken language, civilization, buildings, or even the brains needed to understand any of it. There was a push among the more liberal humans to rename it “Canine Earth" to be more respectful, but they were, um, missing the point.

Still, they might have a point - due to opposable thumbs, it was humans who managed to push past what they called the Stone Age and develop all sorts of technology that seemed like magic to Wooaoh. They were the ones to develop the portal that connected the two Earths together, and they were the ones attempting to share their vast medical and scientific knowledge with the Dogolese.

“Here we are," the driver said gruffly, rolling his r's.

Wooaoh stepped onto the street, her collar paying the man automatically with the stipend she was given through the exchange program. She didn't have endless money, and it was distributed to her each day, but it still seemed immense considering all the amazing things it could get her. Lucky Lane was so dark at this hour, and would have been asleep in her den back home, but these humans had “electricity", a special kind of magic that made the night-time at least half as bright as the day. If she was going to make the most out of her visit to Earth, she'd have to do what the people did.

<Collar, where is the famous 'bar' you mentioned?>

“The Bull and Finch Pub in Boston is the site of the famous bar from the television series Cheers. It was -"

<Collar, stop.> Sighing, she said, <Where is the bar for everyone on Lucky Lane, in Hargrove?>

“It is on your right as you travel in your current direction."

She didn't bother to thank the darned thing. Instead, she walked as she was told, looking around to see if she could figure out what a “bar" actually was. The streets were lined with humans walking, chatting loudly, visiting dimly lit rooms smelling of alcohol. That, at least, was something she understood. Even without hands, her people had managed to make mead from several different fruits. She knew well how fun it was to drink and chat among her own people, but she had expected humans to have delights well beyond that.

She was apparently very wrong. Every person out this late was entering or exiting these buildings, which she soon found out were called “bars" or “pubs". But none were obviously more famous than the others, and she hadn't seen many of her kind so far on her short walk. She'd seen more humans walking their pet dogs than she had seen her own people, which was surprising in Hargrave - as one of the few inter-universal exchange cities, the number of Dogolese here was as high as anywhere on Earth. Why weren't they out, mingling with these humans?

<Oh. Is that it?> she barked, before remembering to preface her question with “Collar". Instead, the device translated her question into English. But she didn't need to ask again. She'd just noticed the bar on her right, glowing magical signs in bright red and blue announcing that it was open to human and Dogolese alike. Bimbos and Bitches was the name, a wireframe exaggerated woman with extremely large mammaries next to a neon outline of a similarly endowed canine with her tail provocatively up. The smaller subtitle that read “Bar and Grill" wasn't especially comforting, especially alongside their slogans, prominently displayed on t-shirts and canine bandanas: “Where girls in heat go to cool off (or pair off)" and “Fill her with booze and she won't refuse!"

She paused at the entrance, wondering if she really ought to go into such a place. But she'd already paid for the taxi ride, and none of the other bars would serve her. Plus, it did say “Females drink half off." Well, she thought, I'm here to learn about human culture - might as well dive in...

Bimbos and Bitches had music playing, but at least it wasn't loud enough to hurt her sharp ears, unlike some of her neighbors. The doors slid aside as she approached. Maybe her collar had opened them? Once inside she hopped up onto one of the chairs to sit at a large, empty table and looked around. The business was dark, busy, and loud, but a quick glance confirmed that she was the only Dogolese here. Not too odd, considering how few of her kind were in such a big city, but this was the only bar on the street that she could expect to find any. She was a little grateful that she didn't have to worry about anyone hitting on her!

A lady with a notepad came over quickly. "Hi there. Welcome to Bimbos and Bitches. I haven't seen you around before. What can I get you?"

Wooaoh had already eaten dinner. <If you can, mead,> she yipped, a little higher pitched to carry over the noisy bar. She could barely hear the collar translating.

The waitress blinked. “Man meat? Well, you've come to the right place…" She looked around awkwardly.

<No, no. Mead. MEAD!> she tried again.

This time it seemed to register, and the waitress said, “We don't really...serve mead. How about I bring over a couple of drinks, and you can tell me which you like? We have a lot more types than you're used to," she explained.

Evidently, humans mostly served mixed drinks, watering down the alcohol by mixing it with fruit, ice, salt, or bubbly water. Maybe the mixing is so you don't get drunk as quickly? Mead on Dog Earth was about 10% alcohol, so these must be about half as much. It just meant that she got to try out more types! She lapped at each of the three samplers the waitress had brought over. They were so much more bitter and sour than mead, but in kind of a good way - until she hiccuped and got a nose full of carbonation. The little glasses slid around on the table with each lick, and she had to carefully slide them back into place with her paws to make sure they didn't go shattering off the table. Why would they make containers that you couldn't pick up in your teeth!?

“Enjoying yourself?"

The voice came out of nowhere behind her, as did the hand. She jolted and gave a yip as a stranger gave her head a pat and started scratching her behind the ears.

“Hi won't think what blue should…me," she gasped, or rather, that's what the translator said. Evidently the music and conversation was confusing it. She felt like she should feel violated, but his fingers felt so good, and she instinctively started to lean into it.

“You looked a bit sad and lonely, so I figured maybe I could cheer you up." He sat in a chair at her table, still scratching her. She had to resist the urge to kick her leg - her usual method of scratching so far up her body.

He was pale skinned with brownish-black hair, wearing those rough, blue pants so common among humans and a relatively smooth, long-sleeved shirt. She, of course, wore nothing but the collar, but she could understand why the furless apes felt the need for more protection. She wondered if this man passed for attractive among his species. His confident smile seemed to suggest so.

She managed to pull her head away from his inquisitive hand. Focusing on her vocal cords, she enunciated as clearly as possible, and the collar picked it up just right, saying, “I am cheered up. My name is Wooaoh."

He smiled and waved the waitress down. She regarded him coolly as he ordered an extra large margarita. “Grant," he said simply, looking Wooaoh up and down. She had darker fur along her sides, and an undercoat on her belly, face, legs, and tail that was a distinct gray. The man said, “There's so many types of Dogolese," he said. “You're like a - "

<German Shepherd,> she yipped wryly.

He paused for the translation and nodded, “German Shepherd, but with that dull gray fur instead of their bright tan."

Wooaoh glanced around the room, noticing a fair number of unattended human females - yet here Grant was, talking to her. She said <There are many types of humans. Many in this bar…> she added, meaningfully. For once, the translator managed to convey her implication.

He laughed. “I'm a regular here. I know most of the girls in here and believe me, they aren't worth chasing."

He didn't like them, or they didn't like him? Perhaps humans weren't so different from the boastful, assertive males she'd met back home. But he couldn't really be flirting for her benefit, could he? <Are you...chasing me?>

He just laughed and shook his head. “Chasing my own tail is more like it. Not that I don't find you interesting and all that, but you kind of remind me of our family dog when I was a kid. Though he was a 'he'." As if to confirm that memory, he reached a hand up to her gray-furred muzzle, cupping her cheek before sliding his fingers below her chin and scratching.

Wooaoh flinched at first, pulling away, but that didn't stop his inquisitive fingers. Those dexterous digits were definitely the most impressive feature of these Earthlings, and she shivered before she turned her head and said, <Stop that,> but it came out as “Top hat". He still got the picture.

“Sorry," Grant grinned, pulling his hand back. “You have really soft fur."

At that moment, the waitress pulled up with quite an elaborate drink - the margarita, she guessed. It was wide brimmed, ringed in little white crystals, and had a slice of one of those citrus fruits so common on their human Earth. For a moment, the man was silent, drinking through a straw, and Wooaoh finished her three little shot glasses of sample drinks. They were all pretty good, though the whole building was really heating up. She was panting.

Seeing her without a drink, the man paused, and said, “Want to try mine? It's mostly lime juice and water."

She regarded the large drink, sniffing it. It was so different from honey mead. Plus, the wide rim was perfect for lapping. She didn't want to be impolite, so she took a sip of his drink.

Oh wow it was good. The rich flavor curled over her long tongue, coating her tastebuds in sour, sweet, and even salty. He must be right about its ingredients, because she could barely taste any alcohol burn. She took a second lick, but he pulled it back. “A small margarita for the little lady," he said to the dubious waitress.

“You sure?" the woman asked, looking her over, before glancing meaningfully at the man. But Wooaoh didn't know what she meant. She nodded, having found the drink she liked the most.

A smaller glass, but in a similar cup arrived, and Wooaoh nursed the drink frequently, using her large tongue to slurp up a bit of salt with each taste. This would have to be her last drink, despite its low alcohol content. She didn't want to get buzzed, after all!

“How old are you, anyway?"

She looked up at Grant. She knew that even in Hargrave, humans tended not to know much about her planet or her people. Of course it took the same amount of time for both Earths to circle the sun. She answered what he really wanted to know - <I'm an adult. I've studied for years to earn my ticket in the exchange program.> The translation had several big gaps, but it worked well enough that she didn't need to repeat herself.

“More than I've ever done. I'm just a Hargrave native, born and raised, but at least I've got a steady job. Never thought I'd be shown up by a dog, though. Good job on you."

She cocked her head, parsing his many words a little slower than normal. She felt strangely warm and found herself blinking like there was something in her brown eyes. Was he complimenting her? Insulting her? He was smiling the whole time, a gesture she'd always had a hard time reading - showing your teeth on Dog Earth had a very different meaning.

“What about your boyfriend?" he asked suddenly. “He here, too? Studying to get a ticket?"

<Don't have one,> she replied, taking another sip. He understood despite the collar saying 'donut'.

“Oh - too busy? Or...do you have a _girl_friend?"

<No. Yes. The other order…?> she barked, confused. To her knowledge there weren't gay Dogolese. Their biology didn't really work that way. The musks and aromas would be all wrong.

Other human women came and went, but Grant must have known them all, because he stayed at her table, chatting about inane things and very slowly sipping his drink. He was only a third of the way through his large glass when she ignominiously lapped the empty bottom of her small one, licking her lips. She glanced around and noticed that even a few Dogolese had crossed the doorway - she just hadn't noticed. Maybe there was more alcohol in that mixed drink than she'd thought.

“No boyfriend, no girlfriend. Does that mean you're a...ah…" he asked.

Were we still talking about that? Wooaoh blinked, fixed her eyes on Grant, and shook her head. <I'm not a virgin. I have experience,> she meant to say. Somehow the collar translated it as “No virgin. Done did it before." The music did seem to have gotten louder, hadn't it?

She was still wondering as Grant reached out, his large hand caressing the back of her broad neck before he slid it through her luxurious fur all the way down her back, and again it felt good - too good. His fingers descended through her coat to tickle her skin, while his palm made her shiver. She could feel a tingling, though she didn't know where at first. But as his hand travelled her spine and reached her tail, she was able to identify where - just beneath her wagging tail. His divine nails scratched her itchy rump just inches above her hidden spade. She wasn't in heat, but most females learned to enjoy it out of season (the only way to avoid pups) and she clenched with need before finally managing to pull away from his hand. “Really shouldn't -" the translator cut off again, or had she stopped talking? She tried again. “Don't know what you're doing," she managed to get out, and he looked disappointed.

“Sorry girl. Just a habit. I know most dogs like it when I scratch there." He slid his glass over, a third of his margarita still there, though mostly melted. “Peace offering, for not asking first?"

Wooaoh thought about it for a moment. She tried to speak her acceptance, but the stupid translator wasn't working again, so she just nodded. Her throat was suddenly parched. But this should probably be her last few sips. She'd seen first hand what happened when her people drank to excess. She started lapping, happy that there was none of the weird fizz that had tickled her nose inside of it, enjoying the salted edge on her tongue. The room was a bit warm, and the drink helped cool her, tingling pleasantly, the familiar flavor making her relax. <This is good, good, good!> she tried a couple times, each time the translator not managing to process her clear yips and murrs. Finally she gave him a lick on the chin in thanks, before remembering that humans didn't use tongues for casual affection.

He didn't seem to mind.

Suddenly, the drink was empty. She licked her lips. Where had it gone? Looking around, she almost fell off her stool, but Grant, laughing, managed to grab her by the collar and keep her perched on the tall chair. “Tanks rant," she mumbled.

Oooooh, she thought idly, wondering just where the intense, warm feeling was coming from. She was shivering before she realized that Grant, having steadied her, was sliding his left hand down her chest and along her belly. Right in public! She squeaked but wobbled in his grasp, looking down to watch his furless fingers part the long gray fur down her chest. Biting her lip, she whimpered as he accidentally brushed deep against her nipples, still small pink nubs, as she had never been a mother. She held her breath as his hand reached farther and farther down, until her longer fur gave way to short, soft, downy white.

He stopped just shy of her bouncing spade, only to put his hand beneath her chin and repeat the long, slow stroke down her belly. Three more times, with Wooaoh shivering, wondering if this was the time he wouldn't stop early. But he always did, leaving her soft, black mound quivering in a small puddle of its own making.

“Hey, want to get out of here? I know a place a lot quieter."

She blinked. How long had he been touching her? She looked around, but no one was staring. She shook her head as only a canine could, pointy ears flapping. “Yet. Lats," the collar translated as she nodded in agreement.

The world spun as she dropped back to the floor, and if she hadn't had four legs, she might have fallen. As it was, Wooaoh managed to reach the front door to Bimbos and Bitches in time to realize that the door didn't automatically swing open. Thankfully, Grant was quickly by her side, pushing it and holding the door for her. It was so much colder in the night, which helped considerably as she padded beside the large human with the magic fingers.

I'd did good job, she thought to herself. Looking up at Grant, who was walking without any stumbles, she knew she'd avoided the worst of the liquor - he'd had almost as much as her, hadn't he, and he seemed fine. She wagged her tail weakly, falling over until she ran into his long legs. He steadied her again. He's seem nicer'n I thunk at first.

<117 3rd Avenue - want a gone home,> she tried to say. That might have worked, but her lack of grammar cost her upon translation as her artificial, high-pitched voice said, “Hundred Savings and Loan venue - what a good hope."

Looking concerned, the nice man said, “You're not going to make it to the park. Why don't we go back to my place and you can sleep this off. We're close."

She didn't acknowledge him one way or another except to follow him as he turned down the next street, leaving Lucky Lane. She couldn't follow the streets they turned down, hiccuping as she arrived at a dimly lit apartment house, with a left half and a right half. Human houses were so impressive compared to her den at home. Not 117 - home home, on Dog Earth.

“Hey. Wooaoh, right?" he asked, looking at his apartment door.

She nodded, staring all the way up at the tall man.

“You know what's gonna happen, right?" he asked.

Swaying uneasily on her feet, she looked from him to his apartment door. “Sleeeep," the translator explained, keeping the extended vowel sound she'd accidentally indicated with her vocal chords.

He said, “In a manner of speaking." With a pause, he breathed in and said, “Let's head on inside."

The two-story house was sparse and she remembered a kitchen, a couch, some enormous, complicated stairs. There was a brown door, and then the bed. He brought her to a bed at one point. Was that before or after the couch? Didn't he make coffee? She blinked, just having hopped up on the bed. His bed, and she lost her footing, landing on her side in the soft blankets adorning the large, fluffy rectangle.

Whining, she closed her eyes. She felt kind of bad, but she didn't know why. In her stomach. She was panting again. She kicked her four feet, as if she were dreaming, but she was pretty sure she was awake. The black-and-gray “shepherd" almost fell immediately to sleep, until she felt the hand. It was on her side, running down her body and before she knew it, she'd rolled onto her back, curved slightly across the bed, her front legs tucked up against her chest, and her back legs spread and dangling.

It was Grant. It had to be. She opened her eyes and it was Grant after all. Fingernails graced her ribcage, scratching and swirling her long belly fur. She gasped and kicked her back legs just a few inches. Was she doing that? No, it was Grant. The man was sitting beside her, scratching her belly, and she met his gaze. “Nnnmmm," she groaned helpfully.

Scratches turned to rubs, and she arched her back as somewhere between one and three hands covered her underbelly, brushing through her fur, gently crossing her pink nubs. Two hands, she realized, as she opened her eyes to find Grant there, sliding his hands across her abdomen like he was playing a piano. “Grain!" her collar announced unhelpfully.

Wooaoh's tongue dangled from the side of her mouth, but somehow she avoided the need to sneeze. Grant seemed to be concentrating on her very much. What a nice man! Glancing down her belly, she saw that her tail was tucked up and over her belly, as if she were afraid of him. But she wasn't. It was Grant after all. Eyes half-lidded, the young Dogolese exchange student uncurled that tail and wagged it.

That was all the invitation Grant needed.

He leaned closer, his left hand descending down her ribcage and playing with her hidden nipples, but his right skirted through her thinnest fur, moving ever lower until his fingers traced the lips of her spade. What normally was masked by her tail and bushy rump was exposed and bouncing when on her back! She wiggled in anticipation, as she felt tingles shoot through her body. If those glorious fingers felt so good running through her fur, how must they feel...there? In the back of her head, she buried the errant thought that she'd never once considered doing anything like this with a human before. Why was she well beyond considering it, now?

<Please, keep going,> she tried to woof, but her whimpers and growls of lust prevented the collar from even trying to translate what she was saying. She'd have to communicate the old fashioned way: she started humping his fingers, trying to get him to do more than just tease her. She'd been through many heats before, her body demanding she breed, but this tantalizing teasing was even worse!

“Don't worry girl. I'll help you. I just wanted to make sure you were nice and ready." She barely heard him, eyes blanking as he slowly pushed one of those long dexterous fingers inside of her, her tight, wet cookie spreading easily for him. He curled and wiggled that finger, exploring, and she tried instinctively to hump backwards to no avail, on her back. A second finger, and then a third joined in, spreading apart inside her until she was positively gaping, the tip of his index finger finding that blessed source of her pleasure.

Squealing, she was getting closer and closer when he finally removed his wet hand. She gave a yip of protest, wiggled her hips, and wagged her tail, trying to get his attention. Did he think that had been enough? When her eyes finally focused, she saw he was naked. When had that happened? No matter, her eyes fell immediately between his legs and beheld something totally alien to her.

It looked somewhat like the penis of a horse but shorter, with a flat bulbous end, and a uniformly thick, pale-skinned shaft. Where was his sheath? Even a horse had one of those. It was nothing like the red, glistening tip of her first (and only) time. Was it too wide to easily pass through the tight opening a few inches inside her? She realized there was no sense worrying - she was about to find out! From his new approach, he climbed up over her wildly wagging tail, sliding a hand down her back until it rested between her hips and the bed with surprising skill. Had he done this before? He hefted her with that hand, guiding his shaft in the other until she finally felt that massive tip press against her needy lips.

Pausing, he said, “Damn, girl, you're like a furnace down there. You're the hottest one yet!"

<Do it!> she whined frantically, and the little indicator on the collar spun as it tried to translate before simply giving up. He seemed to understand what she meant anyway.

Leaning in flush, he did just that, his tip easily parting her pliable vulva and shuddering against her clitoris, until he hit her pelvis. Her tightened tunnel would normally accept only the tapered tip of a canine cock, but he seemed to know enough about her anatomy to realize that the resistance wasn't her hymen. Gritting his teeth, Grant used his hand to tilt himself further down, wedging that enormous tip right up against her inner opening. Whining, she realized that this human cock wasn't bony at all, but squishy. For a second, she worried he would break her, but he pierced her canal and slid further in, stretching her so wide she would have sworn she was already knotted.

<So...big…!> she yelped. Perhaps her translator was broken?

The powerful man straddled her, only his abs touching hers, his upper body above her at an angle so that he was staring down straight into her dazed eyes. One hand stroked her bushy neck fur, the other her chest, immense satisfaction on his face as he started to pump his hips. Her tail brushed his somewhat small balls as she wagged and whined beneath him, bucking her hips weakly, the muscles not designed for this position. She winced and lifted her head up towards his, meeting him a foot or two in the air for a kiss.

Grant looked surprised at first, but tilted his head and opened his mouth to allow her large, soft tongue into his mouth, her moans muffled with each lick of his tongue and inside his cheeks. Sliding his arms around her, he held her close so she wouldn't have to strain, sharing in a fierce kiss even as he bottomed out inside her tight cunny. He had no knot, and was the same thickness all the way through, so the tight squeeze stayed the same throughout his entire stroke until his wiry-haired crotch was squishing up against her quivering spade.

He pulled back, biting his lip to compliment, “What a tight little bitch," before pulling all the way out of her, except his wedged tip. She gasped and panting, staring up at him, mesmerized, waiting desperately for him to fill her again, and he did so, faster and harder than before. He slid back into her increasingly stretched out tunnel, the sensitive linings of her dog pussy wrapping around his big, bare cock, until his great length once again grinded him against her cervix.

<More…> she whined incoherently, and she didn't blame the collar this time for not understanding.

Again and again, human and canine rocked back and forth, meeting in glorious, surprising harmony. He fit her just right, brimming just at her limits, and when he stopped kissing her to regain his breath, she showered his face, neck, and chest with puppy licks, submissive and obedient as her nature. Each dedicated thrust gliding his now slick dick all the way against her trembling clit, wracking her eighty pound frame beneath his weight (more than double).

Completely, blissfully different from her only other sexual experience at the paws of her best friend back home - the awkward mount, the pain of losing her virginity, the uncertainty when he tried to knot. There was no doubt about it - Grant was experienced, and not just with human women. If she hadn't been so brain-addled, she might have wondered if he was really native to Hargrave, or if it wasn't a coincidence that she'd found him here, in the only bar that served both humans and Dogolese together.

“Woof, rrruff! Howl!" she groaned. There was no translation because she wasn't speaking Dogolese. She kicked her hind feet where they dangled in the air on either side of the large male bearing down on her, tossing her head back and howling as her entire body began to shudder, especially her pussy clenching down as if to bury his knot inside her. But he had no knot, enjoying the pulsating sensation as she milked his entire length, a wet gush of fluid announcing she'd reached the blissful end. Grabbing her little front legs by the wrists, he closed his eyes, held his breath, and slammed home.

Her ear twitched as she heard and felt him erupt inside her, sharp, rapidly weakening thrusts announcing each interspecies spurt deep and raw inside her. They shuddered and grinded against each other for almost a minute before he collapsed, his muscles weakening. She had to turn her head, his chest pushing down on her face, demonstrating just how much bigger and taller Grant was. Wooaoh was squished between him and the bed, the sticky warmth of his sweaty body somehow comforting, despite her inability to really move.

Only after his orgasm finally faded did he remember, and roll off of her, panting.

<Wow.> was all she could say, though her collar thought she was saying her own name.

The rest of the night flew by in flashes of half-remembered dreams. That first time remained emblazoned in her mind, but the alcohol was much stronger than she'd realized. One moment, she was bent over the recliner, Grant's hands holding her firmly in place around her thighs as he bucked up into her like a randy dog, the next she was thumping her tail on the couch, one hind leg raised to allow the man's lips access to her quivering, needy, and well-stained cunt. She vaguely remembered riding him on that very same couch, his hands helping to raise and lower her rump onto his firm, eager cock. But when was it that she was lapping gently at his musky, sweaty balls while he prepared a drink in the kitchen?

She shouldn't have had more alcohol, but her brain had started to hurt, and she wasn't done with Grant by any means. Relishing the gentle buzz of a new drink, she sat on (and around) his lap, kissing him and whining his name.

When did they move back to his bedroom? The bath tub? His faucet had a maneuverable head, and between the rush of warm water cleaning her sore vulva and his dexterous fingers, she must have cum three times in the hard, white tub. She hadn't ended up much cleaner, and they made quick work of her temporary cleanliness across the dinner table, between his sheets, and back on the couch, leaving her fur matted - and not just in sweat.

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was bucking and humping his cock, flopping over even as he finished inside her for the half-dozenth time.

* * * * *

Wooaoh woke slowly, feeling like she had been hit on the head, over and over. Her head throbbed, and she was also sore between her legs. Sore, wet, sticky, and stretched, as if she still hadn't closed back up properly. Just the thought caused her to clench, and she winced as she felt the sharper pain of over-strained muscles.

Then the night before came rushing back, and she wanted to sink into a hole in the ground. She'd acted as needy as a bitch in her first heat. Worse, really. She crawled to her feet, and stumbled off the bed, only to realize it was actually the couch. Right, we'd finished on the couch, she thought, flattening her ears and squinting at the bright sunlight that came through the window shutters.

Whining, she realized her throat was very, very dry, but the sink was four feet off the ground! She glanced around the dimly lit apartment, tempted to give up and just drink from the toilet.

Ka-click! A door was being opened, and she turned to look at the wooden door to Grant's bedroom. That must be where he'd ended up, crawling there exhausted after their raucous night. But it wasn't his door that was opening. Her pounding ears flicked and swivelled to the front door, which swung open suddenly to reveal an unknown figure - another exchange student from her home world. Their fur was medium length, and all different layers of black, with an uncharacteristically wide muzzle.

<Another one? I don't know how he does it,> the stranger laughed. When the collar translated into a low-pitched voice she realized he was male, and most likely Grant's roommate. The one room she hadn't mated in had had a Dogolese friendly latch, after all.

She winced at the searing light that came from the morning sun through the open door, and the male canine obliged her by walking in and kicking the latch so that the solid wood swung shut with a loud slam. Rubbing her head with a paw, she whined, <Hi.> Thankfully her collar was still working, since it had failed spectacularly last night. This male, of course, didn't need the translation. <I don't know what came over me last night,> she apologized, <but I really need to head home. I really don't feel well.>

<Not used to the liquor, huh? I guess that explains it. I'm Grant's roommate, Kyle.> It wasn't a Dogolese name.

Wagging her tail slightly, she said, <Wooaoh.>

<Gonna want a name these humans can pronounce, Wooaoh.> He sniffed the air, cocking his head and looking her up and down, eyeing her badly matted, musky fur. <Man, he did a number on you,> he grinned, showing his teeth. Everything about this “Kyle" spoke to his comfort among the humans, from his use of the word 'man' to his disconcerting, toothy smile. He must have been among the first to visit Earth.

Wooaoh blushed, realizing what he must be smelling. She desperately needed a bath...and a dark, quiet room to wait this splitting headache out. <Look, if you'll just tell Grant when he wakes up that I...um...really enjoyed last night, but I had ->

<No, I don't think so,> he grinned.

<Had to…> she started again.

<No,> he said firmly, which was a low growl in her language. <I work a whole night shift, come home to find some bitch's seduce juice coating the whole damned apartment, and you think I'm gonna let you just leave me alone here with only your fuck pheromones to keep me company? You owe me.>

Gulping, Wooaoh couldn't fully understand what he was saying, even in her own language, but she got the gist of it. Her headache suddenly didn't matter quite so much. Flattening her ears, the young canine tried to walk past Kyle to get to the front door, saying, <Look, I'm just going to go, okay…? I'm really sorry, but I shouldn't have come here…>

She approached the door, looking at the various mechanisms. Which one was the handle?

She heard him inhale loudly, and jumped when she felt his cold nose beneath her tail. Fur standing on end, she looked over her shoulder at the assertive male, mortified. <Hey! What do you think you're doing!?>

<Collar, lock the door,> was his reply, and she heard a loud click. Her eyes went wide.

<Collar, unlock the door!> she tried quickly, but the response was less than helpful. “I do not have access to the door lock. Please ask the owner to add you to the access list."

<Now that that's settled,> Kyle grinned, <let's see you lift that pretty little tail of yours…>

<No!> She spun around to face him, except that the world seemed to keep spinning instead. Unbalanced, she hit the ground half on her back, half on her side, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment, against a stabbing pain in her head as the throbbing got even worse.

Then a pair of strong jaws clamped shut on her throat.

She tried to bark something, anything, but she couldn't breathe, much less speak. She lay upside down, not even able to see most of his body. He couldn't speak very well either, but he shifted his hold, flipping her onto her stomach with his paws before releasing his bite. She was too busy gasping for breath to realize what he was doing before Kyle grabbed the very tip of her tail in his mouth, mounting her back. Her tail was pulled and tugged with his head, hiking her rump up neatly so that her hind paws were straining beneath him with only the tips of her toes on the soft carpet.

With practiced skill, Kyle sank his canines into the scruff of her neck, keeping her tail pinned between his back teeth. Holding her tight, he ignored her struggles and humped hard. Squealing, she tried to clench her pussy shut, but it was still sopping and stretched out from last night. He plowed right into her loose passage. <Stop! Grant! Grant, help!> she wailed, taking care to enunciate for the translator. It actually worked! The collar called out for help!

Now that he was in her, his fervent thrusts kept her rump in place. Kyle let go over her neck and tail, ear twitching. But no sound of Grant moving came from beyond his bedroom door.

<We'll be done well before that lazy bum stumbles out of bed,> the other canine gloated. <Stop pretending you don't want it - what kind of floozy slut goes to that bar if she isn't looking for an excuse? Just enjoy it.>

She yipped and whined, reaching out to the door mechanism again and again, but she was just out of reach, and wasn't sure if that was actually the doorknob or not, anyway. She'd only met Kyle for one minute before the powerful dog had pinned her and started raping her, his glossy red dick burrowing into her sore, well-used cunny. She'd had no reason to worry with Grant, but she knew she was nearing her next heat - she winced and tried to wriggle out from underneath him, her throbbing brain trying not to picture his bare dick and hefty, canine balls.

From a clumsy, awkward first time, to the biggest but most satisfying mistake of her life with Grant, to this. She was helpless beneath Kyle, meeting his every thrust with her trembling pussy as he wedged his way deeper, eager and straining to lock himself to her and end any chance that Grant might be able to save her. Despite every fiber of her hungover brain screaming in opposition to this assault, Wooaoh found herself lifting her hindquarters and spreading her tail to the side, generations of submissive instincts driving her to give in to the powerful male.

<That's it,> he barked. <Relax and take my puppies like a good little girl.>

<No, please! Stop!> she growled, her head at least refusing to give any ground to her black-furred attacker.

Click!

As if by miracle, the front door clicked, unlocked, and swung open. It was Grant! He wasn't in his bedroom after all - he was holding a shopping bag. <Grant, help me!> she wailed, getting plowed just a foot from the open front door.

“What the hell Kyle!?" The human stood in the doorway, eyes open in shock, and Kyle's grip loosened slightly, though Wooaoh couldn't help but notice the big, black dog stayed balls deep in her.

<Not my fault you spread her across the whole apartment!>

“I texted you! You couldn't wait 5 minutes? You're no better than she is. Listen girl, just relax. It'll go a lot easier for you," he said, dropping his bag that contained what looked like a leash, a dog bowl, and a box - of specially made Dogolese condoms.

<What...what are you… Grant?> she whined, realizing there was no hope of rescue here, at least not from Grant.

After the translation, Grant knelt next to her and said, “Babe, you were amazing last night. I couldn't keep you all to myself!" He cupped her chin with his palm, scratching her jaw in a gross mimicry of the gentle touch he'd used to seduce her the night before.

Disgusted, she nipped Grant's hand and used the distraction to drop down and shove forward with all her strength. Kyle's mouth closed a moment too late, taking a chunk of fur from her scruff as she bolted for the open door. She shouldered past the human, unbalancing him and knocking him to the ground. Thank the Moon he hadn't already knotted!

But Grant reached desperately out as he fell onto his back, his thumbed hand just barely snagging her translating collar. Whining, she flipped around, staring the awful man in the face as she tugged backward. “Grab her, Kyle!" Grant hissed, and the black canine jumped forward, never minding that his roommate was somewhat in the way. He stepped right on Grant, but it was his second step - landing squarely on the man's crotch - that made the human squeak in pain, higher pitched than anything Wooaoh's collar had ever produced. Remembering the hotel room, she used a front paw to push the metal collar as far up her neck as it would go before lifting a hind leg to it and tumbling backwards. Her head popped free!

Grant let go of the thing, doubling over in pain in such a way that he collided with Kyle's leap forward, and the two males collapsed in a heap. Wooaoh wasted no time, leaving the collar on the ground, turning tail, and darting away.

Still picking himself up off of Grant, Kyle took one look at the lost collar, and then at Wooaoh and yelped, <Wait, Wooaoh, you don't want to be out there! Come back!> But she wasn't about to trust the asshole who'd raped her! She dashed away from them, rounding the corner at top speed, every hair on her body stiff and trembling. At first she heard claws on concrete behind her, but she was fast, running down roads and taking corners at random. After the second corner, she no longer heard pursuit, but she kept running until she was dizzy and panting.

One problem dealt with - but how to get back home?