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"Die For My Sin"

(C) 2017

Chapter 20.1

Sometimes you just want a little bit more. Maybe you enjoyed how things once were, before they changed. Time ticks by unending, and even I must bow to its whim. Though it is no friend of mine, at least here, I have the power to move it back.

My characters have always been rather close to me, so it's a real pleasure to dig this up and shine some light on an otherwise ambiguous period. To resurrect the past and make it once again the present, my gift to you. I make no promises to do this for everything, but for now, let's have some fun.

Shall we go back and head North? Words begin to form on these otherwise empty, hungry pages, filling you with a fine meal, line after line.

We resume during a confusing time for Keman, he's struggling hard to accept his human past. As well, the process by which he's integrating into this canine universe, by whom it was initiated, and lest we forget: why.

The temperature outside might be icy cold, allowing for less scrutiny of his erroneous scent, but up here, the fires inside of every heart run hot. Zach has been freshly 'sited, with no previous experience of anything like it. Keman, or rather, Erick-- he was old hat when it came to tubular poking bits questing deeply inside his prick, and chastity was already a fun game of torment. Adapting to a 'site was comparatively easy, for him.

Zach, however, was terrified of the idea that he might never get off again, as his parasite was designed to ensure. Nevertheless, the surge of joy which he'd felt over the fact that Sinclair had once more invested such a permanent inclination into his psyche, it helped Zach to feel whole again, even when he knew that he was not.

Zach had actually been working with Keman the Rhenthar, for over a decade by this point, (under the name Zeek) and it has been breaking his heart to watch him endure so much pain and turmoil as his human memories try to surface and push the fake ones out. He had briefly met the old Erick, enough that he was certain Keman should be jumping with glee in the body and world he's now in. Time marches forward, and Zach has faith and confidence that his and Sinclair's endeavors will continue to fly true.

The same even concerning himself.

Zach hates being broken, and will always blame that (and himself) for why he and Sin failed as a couple. He has no delusions that the future finds them coming any closer together, but being 'sited means, at least, they're unlikely to drift further apart. Sin would never do something so permanent, only to kick him to the curb later. In his sheath now is an investment from ownership, essentially. Maybe it'll be enough to help Zach heal.

Maybe not.

Snow covered mountains in the distance, a blue sky like liquid oxygen, frigged icy breath steaming fiercely from every open muzzle, except once indoors. There, the heat actually burns unaccustomed skin, Zach's whiskers felt brittle and tight like the strings of a violin; surely they'd snap if he ran his paws over them. His scratchy eyes watered too much, and the warm poke under his tail, swapped from the brisk pain of wind on his exposed hole, once he stepped inside, that didn't exactly help his mind stray from erotic thoughts.

Zach loved it all, to a Husky the cold felt just right.

Keman was safe and nearby in the outpost's complex, Zach knew with precision from all the information his Mark V collar continuously provided; even his wetware would reveal his location if remotely prompted, though he'd be hard pressed to risk that. It was never a good idea to covertly access a hacker's wetware, they tended to find the route in, and then, from whom it led back to. Though Keman had no access to it at the moment, eventually he would, if all went right. Accessing Keman's wetware remotely felt too much like an invasion of privacy to Zach, and he would only do it if absolutely necessary. Just having it disabled was bad enough.

There was still so much Keman didn't know. Of course, there were even things Sin was ignorant on, and Zach wasn't sure what to do about that yet. The big timber-wolf wasn't quite what Sin thought he was. He was actually a little bit more... and if either of them found out, who knew what they might think.

" I know why you're here," Erick had said, pleading in his voice.

"Then you know what I have to do, you were supposed to die."

Zach shook his head. Memories from a past long forgotten. Sometimes he wanted to pin Keman down and scream at him, quit fighting it! this is who you are, and that's who you were, but.

No.

It would only fucking mess him up worse. Zach knew that for a fact.

The mind just didn't work that way, it had to route around socketed memories to form one contiguous sense of self. Until that happened, the neural patterns Zach himself had extracted from well-known wolf genetic templates, the things that made Keman different from say, a German Shepherd, they all loudly declared that something was wrong and it had to be dealt with.

Either with violence, or avoidance. Yet Keman was far too smart to just fight or flee. Add sexuality into the picture, not that it ever could really leave, but give him some heightened experiences, climaxes, orgasms, that would cause real lasting damage. Maybe knock his ability to speak right out.

Sex was the meaning of life, to procreate, and reproduce. When a canine successfully breeds, the process triggers epigenetic pathways, and brings enhancements into the foreground. Increased lifespan, strength, intelligence, a sense of well-being.

It's not just that sex feels good, it essentially whispers secret commands into the baser instincts: "Something is right about me, better than the others, so I should live longer than the others, and have a chance to spread what I am."

A process that was so perfect, and yet subtle, what nature had accomplished over thousands of millenia.

A process that fucked everything up!

It would horribly ruin the elegant hacks Zach had performed on Keman's mind... the merging of memories from two different lifetimes, so similar to his own situation, and yet vastly different. Keman was once Human, but Zach had been born a Rhenthar.

Keman couldn't be allowed to climax yet, but then... neither should Zach...

But if Zach didn't cum soon, he would go insane. It was an old addiction, the oldest he had...

He felt his own doom nearby, his certain demise, as he downed a double shot of Smirnoff, feeling the blazing fire settle into his stomach, while he sat alone in the outpost's bar and eating area.

He took a deep breath through his nose as the first fumes left him, and he caught the various odors from people of past and present. The food Chris was cooking on the grill had a spicy tang, though Zach wasn't hungry in the slightest. Sawdust, lamp oil, salt, and old leather. Overriding most of it was the bitter acrid dryness that 0% humidity brought with it.

He was on a varnished hardwood chair that had been sat on by so many dog's behinds, all the luster was missing in the seat, and he was fairly sure he'd get hard just getting a good whiff of it, if he got down onto all fours.

An old sled mounted to the wall featured old-fashioned leather dog harnesses attached to it with brightly colored cotton ropes, probably for ferals, but Zach knew they would fit him. He stared at it with a sense of foreboding, and then looked down at his own swollen and irritated sheath; desperation went up another notch.

He poured two more fingers.

Chris had taken one sniff of him and handed him the whole bottle. Arctic types don't often ask questions, tough environments make for easy friendships.

IT was still inside, moving around oh-so-noticeably, even if it was just barely at all. In that region, every little twitch, just the faintest sense of motion, and he got hard all over again. It didn't seem to mind his erections, probably since each fed it a little meal, but still-- when he got hard, he felt the tube in his urethra stretch and slide forward.

Back in the day, Zach and Sin had come up with what seemed an ingenious way to inhibit Zach's sexuality, the two of them were tinkering with his mind and sexuality had to be avoided afterwards. Zach designed a simple block to it-- he needed to wear a harness in order to climax. Sin kept that under lock and key, and with a Mark V controlling where Zach could go... it worked. He couldn't get off, and his mind was left to quietly heal.

Mostly.

Until he started sneaking around and cutting things up for parts, used to make harnesses of his own...

He stared down at his drink, watching the alcohol form legs at the edge of his thick glass, creeping up its square sides, defying gravity. That last harness he'd made was rather nice, one might even call him a connoisseur of harnesses, he knew.

Sin had eventually discovered it, though, and that was the last straw. By then, Zach had lost all of his ability to speak, and Sin's efforts drastically changed from furthering their relationship to restoring his mental health, with only mixed results to show for it.

Course, he couldn't get off at all now... no matter what he wore. He knocked the drink back, swallowing hard in frustration.

Canine liver.

You drink, get buzzed, the buzz goes away. You drink more ... the buzz comes back. Then goes away again. No dog stays drunk for long.

He'd been staring at the glass, probably for a while, when a voice from nearby spoke up.

"Gud compeny, seet hear hokay?" Zach glanced up, Chiko was indicating a chair across from him, he shrugged, feeling far too buzzed at the moment to object.

Garlic and lye soap drifted into Zach's nose from him, hints of sweat and, surprisingly, old newspapers. He wondered how they got those up here.

Chiko looked like an inverted version of Zach, as wherever he himself had white, which was in most places, the other Husky had black. The star running up Chiko's forehead was just like his own, but white instead of ebony.

Opposites do attract, the Husky sat down and placed an empty glass onto the table with a quiet 'thunk'.

He stared at Zach in silence for a long minute, then leaned forward and picked up the bottle of Smirnoff, turning it in his paw to stare at its label. A hint of disrespect wafted Zach's way, but he only nodded ascent, as if agreeing to terms the bottle had just made.

"Ve do thees old fashion vay, yis?" He poured some of the liquor into Zach's glass, but nothing for himself, then set the bottle back down.

Zach wasn't quite sure what to do. He lifted the drink to his muzzle, but paused without drinking, for he had just scented Chiko's irritation over the sharp fumes of the alcohol.

"Oh," Zach finally realized. "Stupid of me." In some older cultures, when you wanted to drink, you FIRST poured the shot for someone else, and they in turn would pour for you. Zach set his drink down and complied, filling, by his estimate, enough to satisfy him.

Chiko nodded and lifted his glass in a toast. "To bad tims, may ve forgeet."

Zach grinned, lifted his. "Something like that. Could do with forgetting."

They each tossed the fiery liquid back, Chiko's expression unaltered except for a slight grin that formed on the edge of his muzzle. Zach made a mental note that if he drank any more without waiting, he wouldn't be able to stand up on his hind legs anymore.

"That col-lair, Key-mens. Not yours, ees et." Zach considered the serious question for a moment, but it wasn't really phrased as one. Rather, it stood more as a statement, hanging in the air like a melting icicle during spring thaw. He didn't have to answer, but he chose to anyway.

"No."

Chiko nodded, scenting truth, and poured another finger for Zach.

"Mmmhmm. Lick so." Zach mirrored the gesture, starting to get into the hang of things.

Chiko raised his glass. "To past mates. Yoo nut stlaight, I know. Single?"

Zach just stared, and finally sighed. "Yeah. To past mates. I... really am single." The concept seemed so new, but how long had it actually been? More than ten years. He held up the drink and downed it in a gulp.

He didn't wait long to pour more for Chiko, who in turned poured for him and raised his glass.

"You can't kit uff, someting een yorr sheath. I see you, moving kit awound, tink no one luking. To new addition?"

"Oh, fuck," was all Zach could say to that toast, leaning back to sprawl in his chair. He couldn't drink to that, or rather, he needed far more if he was going to drink to that. He picked up the bottle and gestured, Chiko held his glass out with a sparkle in his eyes that touched his grin, amusement. Zach added several more fingers, spilling some onto the table in the process. He set the bottle back down with an unsteady paw, while Chiko licked his fingers and the bottom of his glass. He stood up suddenly.

"I think iz time vor stlonger stuff. I be wight back, yoo go novare."

He returned a moment later, having gone behind the bar into a storage compartment, the unlabelled bottle he now set down onto the table was covered in thick dust, it was made of old greenish paw-blown glass, with a cork wedged in its mouth. Chiko pulled that out with his teeth and waved the opening under his nose, smiling wide with a nod.

"Mek self. Old... vaat iz, you say. Wessippi? Yis, iz gud. Yoo lick." He sloshed some into Zach's glass, several fingers worth.

Zach lifted the new combination up to his muzzle and took a whiff. Besides the vodka, there was only pure grain alcohol, and not even a hint of anything else, it was surgically sterile. You could use this to run an internal combustion engine, he realized, sneezing to get the burn out of his nose. He held it up to the dim yellow light and saw no sediment, staring past into an old edison heat bulb, its long spiral filiment far warmer than it was bright.

"To frustration and want," he toasted.

Chiko laughed at that, blue and brown eyes suddenly bright, holding his up. "Yes! To vants." They knocked their drinks into their throats.

Zach thought he could keep it down, but the burn turned so great, he quickly set the glass onto the scarred wooden tabletop and brought his paws up to hold his muzzle shut, not daring to breathe. Swallowing again, and again, he promptly coughed involuntarily. Where the Smirnoff had burned, this actually stung, and it kept stinging, making his throat raw, his vocal cords spasming. He opened his mouth with wide eyes and panted, and that made it even worse.

"Yis! You gud, vewy better. Mmm. Ven can you wemove eet? Key? Timer clock?"

Zach shook his muzzle sadly, feeling an erotic sort of misery and despair. This particular 'site didn't have all of its stimulator branches killed off, not completely. Either something Sin had done intentionally, or a mistake, but no matter. IT kept on moving, he was sure of it. Even thinking about it was all it took to gain an erection. Its thick tendril lead into his bladder, still tight inside his prostate. Zach needed to get off so badly it was all he could think about now, and this was... forever? He didn't understand how Keman kept his composure.

"No key, no lock. Permanent. Its... long story. It'll help me, needed it. Though right now, need something else. Ugh. So bad."

Chiko nodded, like he somehow understood his addiction. He caught Zach staring at the harnesses tied to the sled hanging on the wall, and glanced back at Zach.

"Zat harness you vor, luck gud on you, mitch your eyes." His grin turned wide and open now.

Zach let out an audible whimper, thinking about harnesses. His nemesis, the one object he and Sin had spent so much effort associating with his sexuality, only to take it away so that he couldn't paw.

"You should go git, puut on, vare. Hev plass to go, teck you vith me. Come on! Chop chop." He slammed his paw onto the table, temporarily waking Zach from his stunned drunken reverie.

Go and get his harness, put it on, Chiko wanted to go somewhere. Well why not? It was an excuse, and Zach didn't need many.

He slid out of his chair, pouring almost, and dropped straight down onto his forepaws, shaking his muzzle to clear it. Out, out, that much he understood. Find where he and Keman were sleeping, easy enough.

"Hey! You have to shut the door!" Chris yelled at him after he'd passed the first set leading outside. Zach remembered now, and leaned his muzzle against it until it clicked. Oif. Harness, find harness... he trotted outside on wobbly paws and somehow, some way, made it back to his and Keman's temporary quarters. It was cold but daylight, with a midnight sun that provided no warmth.

Upon entering their room, Keman's scent made Zach's sheath twitch. Of course he had a thing for him, the big timber wolf had a body Zach had designed all by himself, a body worth killing for.

He thought back to then, when he was interfacing with the design plotter. It had almost felt like an interactive porno, select this, this, and that. Penis size, musculature, breed, shape. He'd spent a week trying out different possibilities, and then with Sin's final approval, the autovat started to hum, working its own little miracle from within, that was some very advanced technology.

A month later, Keman's body was ready. It was so perfect, even the flaws Zach had put in it made him hotter still.

He wondered if he would ever notice that his left foot was slightly bigger than his right. Only a centimeter difference, but Zach had been feeling silly, and Sin had stressed the importance that Keman not be too perfect. Some day he might be hunted by the authorities, and the more imperfections from the start would mean for less modifications required later, if he had to go into hiding.

Zach had made most of them internal, the kind only a body scanner would recognize. One of his kidneys wasn't even shaped like a kidney.

He dove onto his harness and wormed his way into it, poking his head through the top and getting the straps tight over his shoulders, then firm around his hips. It felt so amazing.

He was instantly hard, and whimpered when he reached down and pulled at the stiff, tight area behind his knot.

Oh, he knew he couldn't paw. And NOT for lack of trying. This was... this was...

"Impossible!" Zach shouted.

No one heard.

He located his cranial heater under some of the covers they'd been sleeping with, and wiggled the slick protrusions into his ears, pulling it down hard onto his muzzle. He paused before sliding the nasal element into his sinuses, that part always hurt the worst.

Grunting, he finally got the big squishy ends past his nostrils and pushed the tubes far enough inside that he could almost feel them in the back of his throat.

He rolled over onto his stomach, and put his paws back under him. One in front of the other... he touched the activation stud on the heater and trotted outside.

Chiko was there, waiting for him. He wore a harness now, too. Pawmade, Zach noticed, a combination of sun-faded black nylon and leather, probably deer or elk. A small red sled with supplies secured to it trailed behind him. Chiko thumbed it, pointing.

"Supplies, thees awwea keel you, nut prepared."

"How far we going?" Zack inquired, suddenly alarmed, thinking about Keman. He'd set his collar to Mode 4 the moment they'd been apart, but still, he worried.

"Nut far, day out, day back. Gud for you, hear..." Chiko held out the same bottle from in the bar. "For tlail, kep warm, gud boy, bootums oop."

Zach hesitated, knowing it was going to burn, but he took a swig and nearly sprayed it out into the snow under his paws. Somehow he got it down, but he wasn't quite sure if that was a good or a bad thing. He shouted with newfround humor.

"Wow! That, is... strong."

"Mm. Stlongest, mek self. Skeep all flawor, no point. Kep warm, cum, hook up." He secured the bottle with some other things on the sled, and held out a thick rope with a carabiner at the end.

Zach's ears went sideways when Chiko cliped it onto the back of his harness, and his eyes shut tight in embarrassment when a sudden paw found his sheath, wiggling it around.

"Chiko nut new born pup, ewery time you see harness, you geet steef. Hokay. My kind of dug, leets go."

He led the way, and staring at his pink asshole the whole time did little to take his mind off of sex. Was it really that obvious?

Zach hadn't realized people could tell. He thought of his crew on The Hahkota, and began to wonder what they might know.

The harness pulling and tugging at his shoulders and narrow hips, that, too, made things worse.

However, the toil of the traces and the tug of the sled, the cold arctic air and panting, always panting, that helped a lot to set his mind at ease. They ran fast and far, just the two of them.

Zach wondered how many times Chiko had taken this route, as he helped him with the sled across a cravasse in the ice, walking on a narrow lightweight metal plank six meters long, about a meter wide. Chiko wasn't taking any chances, they moved carefully. It went probably a kilometer deep, or more.

Yawning white terminating in blue, the color of the polar sky, as far as the eye could see straight down. When snow and ice fell into it, there wasn't any sound.

A small fabbed shelter came into view a few kilometers after that, a single structure, and Zach didn't miss the multiple antennae pointing up on its roof.

When he finally had his breath, Chiko explained that this was one of the emergency storm shelters that could be used in the event that the outpost suffered damage or was unreachable. A large rock outcropping formed a wall beside it, like a small mountain, it provided shelter from the winds.

It was at this point that Zach realized he was staring at pine trees and tundra, he didn't realize they were so close to that transition. What was odd was the lack of snow on the ground. Was this... real?

"Vat vord you use, vul-canick? Hot vater, undergwound. Forr thirty clicks thet vay," he pointed. "Leave heater on, I vire up stove. Be beck."

Chiko disappeared inside the structure for a moment and came back after smoke started to trickle out of its chimney. Out came the familiar bottle, along with somethng much smaller with a screw lid. Chiko offered the larger of the two and Zach sputtered, swallowing a couple of gulps that seemed to travel straight to his cold pawpads and tail, flaring warmth in him twice as strong as anything his heater provided.

Chiko very carefully unscrewed the smaller of the two containers, trying not to get any of its contents spilled, and held it out gingerly for Zach to sniff.

One whiff and his mind exploded, instant erection, pounding heart, Zach darted glances in every direction before wrestling with his own self control.

"F-fuck! That's... that's... ungh, you know what that is!" Bitch-in-heat. There was no point in even saying it.

Chiko laughed. "Yis, iz just thet. Mmm. Yor heater, long lif powair sou-ply? Gud overnight?"

Zach nodded, not yet drawing a conclusion. "Good for a month, actually."

"Thin ve go, and I coom back, you stay. Lack bred med een beginning. Hmm? I tie you ut." He yanked on Zach's harness, holding up an old worn brass lock with two straps dangling from it. "Wolves tie you in. Cum mornink, you vorget abut past mate, start anew, frish. Eet Siberian vay."

Zach was speachless. Of course he knew that was the origin of the Siberian Husky breed, how the Russian's used to stake out a bitch overnight and the next day they'd pick her up. Two months later she'd have puppies, half wolf, half whatever. The wolves would always find her.

This must be what Nickel had been joking about. The idea at first was offensive, but then... well... it actually was quite hot.

Zach whimpered, staring down at the ground.

"Yep. Lez go. Stay on all fours, pup boy."