At the Library
Debauched people do reprehensible things in your favorite irredeemable American small town! Now with collies and wolves!
Debauched people do reprehensible things in your favorite irredeemable American small town! Now with collies and wolves!
It's just porn. I mean it's REALLY just porn, because if you look for a message in this one it's fucked up. But hey, Clint gets to have fun with a Border Collie and that's nice, right? >.> Cannon Shoals smut, not that you need to know who the characters are~
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
"At the Library," by Rob Baird
--taking continual, accurate fire and down to seven rounds per man, would need to--
_"_Well, like, you know it, right? We know whose side they're on, don't we? Can't blame anyone for not trusting them, if you ask me." "Too much money--that's what happens when there's too much money in the system." "Right! They don't listen! What we really need is, like, a revolution..."
Clint turned up the volume on his iPod and tried to focus on the book, but those earbuds never had fit the wolf's ears very well and AC/DC wasn't nearly enough to drown out the constant low murmur of stupidity.
Aware of a strategic need to keep the Coalition counteroffensive pinned down, division headquarters refused to authorize a breakout despite acknowledging the OC's assessment of imminent collapse. A few members of B Company nonetheless...
Nonetheless. The conversation at the desk had meandered from incoherent ranting directed at Washington to incoherent rambling directed at climate change. If only a few more people drove Teslas, Oregon might've been spared its catastrophic wildfire season. Such a shame.
Kristin something--her last name had to do with trees, he thought, Beech or Birch or Stump--was the new librarian, and her presence over the last few weeks threatened the sanctuary Clint Kendrick had been able to extract from the place. He'd asked her at one point, offhandedly, if librarians weren't supposed to be quiet, maybe?
The Border Collie had rolled her eyes and said that libraries could be social spaces, too. And they had a responsibility to make themselves heard.
Obviously.
"Uh. He's a cop, you know. Well... ex-cop." Clint's ears twitched, and he paused the music to hear what Kristin and the other visitor were getting up to.
"He is? I thought he was a vet or something... always asking for military history stuff through the county ILL system."
He recognized her partner as Shannon Booth, though he didn't know the raccoon well. She lived in a nicer part of town than Kendrick's salary had ever afforded him. "Yes. He was the one in that shooting last year. He's been on furlough since."
Kristin grunted. "Why am I not surprised? Every place wants to give their murderers a damn uniform.You can't get away from it even here. I thought small-town life would be quieter. You're saying I should be careful, then?"
"I'm just saying maybe keep the 'police are the enemy' rhetoric to a low simmer... you are a public servant, and it is a public place."
"And it's the truth. People deserve to hear the truth."
Clint flipped the earbuds off and twisted his chair around with the grating sound of metal on wood. "Even over their damned music, as it happens."
"Hey, Clint." Shannon--she might've guessed that he was eavesdropping, for all he knew--lifted her paw and gave him a light wave. "How are you doing?"
"Oh, you know, I'm alright. Thinking about applying to come off leave. If I'm not getting any peace and quiet, I might as well see if my jackboots still fit."
Kristin shuffled on her feet behind the counter. "I hope you don't expect me to apologize," the collie bitch said. "It's true. You can't argue the--"
The raccoon raised her paw again and took a step back. "Hey, I'm going to go. You two have fun." Clint figured Shannon didn't have any more patience for random bullshit in the day than he did. That was fine by him.
"I'm not apologizing," Kristin repeated as the door closed. Her eyes, not much darker than her chestnut fur, hardened. Not really a challenge, more a defensive feint from the Border Collie. Probably she resented having her bitch session interrupted. "Even if you don't like hearing it."
Clint rolled his eyes and put the earphones back in. Why the fuck couldn't Mary have stuck around? Mary Norton took over the library from her father. Her politics were probably tedious, too, but at least she knew how to shut up about them. It had never even come up since he'd started coming to the library six months before.
But no, his luck wasn't that good. Mary was out on maternity leave, and the red-pelted Border Collie bitch had been the best--only?--replacement. She wasn't from one of the local collie clans--he thought he'd overheard her say once she was from Lincoln City.
Her husband ran a dispensary, and Clint was pretty sure she took copious advantage of a family discount. No surprise she ran her mouth so goddamn much. And since Cannon Shoals was so small, she had to take advantage of her opportunities where she found them.
The next opportunity was a skinny, flat-cap-bedecked wolf named Paul Fisher, a Californian who ran a bookstore Clint never visited because he found Paul insufferable. He was too peppy, too socially conscious and too much of an outsider. No wonder he got along with the Border Collie, whom he greeted with a grin. "Hey, miss Woodward."
"Hey Paul. I have your books right here. It's for your project, right?"
Whatever project that was. Clint couldn't give a fuck, but the two dogs prattled on with an exuberance that overcame both rock music and the history book he was trying to read. Well, what do you expect? This is the look of late capitalism, one of them said, and the other agreed.
Kristin acted very familiar with Paul. Either they shared some kind of socialist kinship, or they knew something he didn't--either way it was more than annoying, and Clint gave a silent prayer of thanks when the other wolf said at last that he needed to be going.
"Oh, alright. Well, why don't you come back Saturday?" The collie had her head tilted, a wry smile on her pure-white muzzle. "I'd love to put together a workshop."
Paul, for all his faults, was smart enough to be skeptical. "I don't know how many attendees you'd get. There's fifteen hundred people in the town."
The collie laughed and pointed to the stacks. "They do a lot of reading, though. Don't underestimate that. What's the worst-case scenario, anyway? Worst-case scenario is you get to do a dry run."
"Don't you work at the shop Saturday? I wouldn't want you to leave Connor hanging."
"Oh, he can manage! I wouldn't mind opening the library early either. I'll be a good audience."
"Er... yeah?"
Her muzzle flashed a dopey grin at the other canine. "I promise. You'll at least think about it?"
"Sure, yeah, I'll think about it."
"If I don't hear back, I'll be very disappointed. I'll have to come bug you at the shop."
Leave, Clint thought. Please go away. And presently Paul did, and he could return to his book. He'd gotten into military history; there was something in the way a simple tactical decision pulled at the reins of whole empires. You could be a twenty-five year old lieutenant and make all the difference in the world.
The wolf did not, himself, need to make much of a difference. The thought of growing old in a small town didn't bother him. Sometimes he missed the police force, yes--not that they'd amounted to much. Chief Pacheco said he could have his job back, and perhaps he'd take Mike up on that offer.
Eventually. The reading, though, that was nice and relaxing. Did wonders for his temper. With an hour to go before the library closed he slid a scratched-off lottery ticket into place, closed the book, and went outside to take a smoke break.
That was relaxing, too. Mike always said Clint had a temper. Cigarettes and a good book did the trick. Has to be better than whiskey, at least. Or oxycontin, if we're really gettin' into the spirit of small-town livin'.
He'd never turned to anything like that, not even immediately after the incident when the dreams were still fresh, and bad. And now he was sleeping fine again, and as long as nobody bothered him...
The door opened, and he heard Kristin take a step outdoors. His hopes that she might've just been enjoying the afternoon were immediately dashed. "Ugh. Really?" Clint turned to her and stared. "You really have to do that here?"
He took a slow drag, still staring, before taking the cigarette from his muzzle and exhaling. "Where else would I do it?"
"You could just not. At all."
"Where's the fun in that?" He finished off the cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe, mostly just to see her irritated twitch.
Kristin scowled behind glasses that might, in other scenarios, have looked bookish. Instead, with her fringed jacket, the mahogany dress that cut off just above her knees, and Birkenstocks, she fell halfway between 'flower child' and 'slutty librarian costume.'
That was at least in the ballpark, if the way she'd talked to Paul was any indication. "What did you want, anyway?"
"We're closing."
"Sign says you're open for another hour."
"I say we're not." She pivoted on her sandals and stalked back into the little library. Clint grumbled and followed her in, for lack of a good alternative. "You can come back tomorrow."
"Well, you do make me feel so welcome."
"I can't help speaking my mind. Not these days. It's too important for us to stay quiet--not when everything's going down."
"Uh huh."
"Everything. We have to take a stand. They have to know we won't be silenced."
"Uh huh." He slipped the book into his backpack and wrapped the headphone cables up.
She had, no doubt, a whole rogues gallery of faceless 'theys' to rant about. Politicians. Whatever company stoked her ire on that particular day. Cops. Soldiers.
'The Man,' as the hippies of his parents' generation put it, and 'Murderers.' He almost admired her dedication to oversimplification.
Hell, he even took it a step further. There were people he put up with, and then there were idiots. Kristin was making the most of her victimhood in the latter camp. "I didn't mean you, specifically. I didn't know you were a cop."
"I'm not. I'm just a patron here."
"Well, but you used to be one. It's good that you quit, for sure," she added, like maybe that would put him on her good side. Or her on his.
"Look," Clint said, pulling his pack on. Closing the library early soured his mood again and he didn't think mincing words was worth it. "I don't give a fuck about your dumb opinion. I didn't ask for it and I don't care."
"You have to. You don't have the option of not caring."
"The fuck I do." He felt his hackles rising. "I care about the books I check out. You care about my overdue fines. That's it. That's all of it. All of it."
"No," she insisted. "I'm not letting you off this point. Look around, like--you're either with us or you're against us. I get that you've never had to pay attention before. You got to push people around because--that's how the state works! When you have a monopoly on violence you... you dole the privilege out to your loyal servants to keep the rest of us down. But now you don't have that power, so stop acting like--"
He shrugged his jacket and backpack off and to the floor, freeing up his arms. In two steps he had the collie bitch in his paws, and in three her back was pinned to the library counter. "What?"
Kristin's eyes had gone momentarily wide, but she rallied and got her paws against his chest, pushing him hard. "Stop acting like... like... whatever. Let me go."
"Acting?" He bent forward, forcing her to lean back to get away from him. Her paws faltered. "I'm not acting. I just want you to shut up. Bitch about how upset you are to Paul and Shannon and whoever the fuck else, but I don't. Fucking. Care." At each word he brought his muzzle closer, lip curled, until the black wolf's teeth were perilously close to the white of her own snout.
"Alright! Alright, okay." The teeth had been, he figured, what did it. He let her go and went to pick up his jacket. Trying to recover her wounded pride, she found her voice again. "You don't mind being part of the problem, then? That's what it is. You don't care."
He had said as much repeatedly--it was the last thing he'd said to her, in fact. Unconcerned with this minor point, she turned around, satisfied with the cutting argument she'd made. Clint rolled his fireball-orange eyes and stomped up behind her, seizing the Border Collie with one arm around her stomach and the other paw holding her head still. "Fine. Let's do this your way."
"What--what do you mean?"
The wolf had not, honestly, thought that far ahead. His anger still sometimes got the better of him; it seemed fairly reasonable to assume he'd extract a meaningless apology from the librarian and simply leave. He could come back when Mary Norton did--maybe not even then. Maybe he could just go to the next town over. Not like his days were busy.
Being so close to the collie changed the equation. She was warm, and remarkably... pliant. Something other than college-girl righteous anger was steering her--Kristin was at least a decade too old for college-girl anything. He had a feeling that this explained her mildly unrequited friendliness to Paul in more biological terms, too.
"Right. You know, if you'd told me you were lookin' to get fucked we coulda skipped this whole mess. Stopped with you provokin' me and all..."
"I'm not--I wasn't... trying to provoke you." It was a very specific, very narrow denial. Tellingly narrow. "Perhaps I overreact sometimes."
"Same. But look. If you're gonna be a bitch just 'cause you're in heat, we--"
"That's a--an oversim--that's not--"
"Shut up. Anyway, I ain't fucked a collie before--always kinda wanted to. Hear they're good at it, so... we both win, huh?"
"That... would be wrong." Simply saying it gave her a bit of strength. "Cause I--I'm married. And we're not friends. I'm not going to be friends with... well..."
He chuckled, though he'd never been good at that and the sound was coarse and ominous. "We don't have to be friends to take care of what your husband won't. Don't matter anyway."
"Why not?"
"Well. I mean, with the library closed I don't have anything else to do, so I might as well push you around, huh?"
"Ugh. You realize you're proving my point," Kristin growled. She twisted her head free to glare at the wolf. "This is why I told Shannon you can't trust the police. You're not part of society. You can't be and be a tool of its own self--" He got his paw back in place and forced her muzzle closed.
"You see any handcuffs?" Her answer was muffled growling until he squeezed tighter and, with a quiet yelp, she settled for shaking her head. "A badge? No. This is just between you and me."
He released her muzzle and dropped the paw down to her chest. A collie's thick fluff did a good job of accenting her breasts, but there was plenty of meat beneath the fur. He groped her, daring her to object. "You're close enough."
"You mean, for this little authority fantasy you got? Guess we know what gets ya off." He laughed--the collie was proving to be a lot more straightforward than he'd first imagined.
"N-no. I mean... it's still wrong," she muttered, protesting too half-heartedly. "Right?"
"Says who?"
"Me." Clint squeezed again, watching her ears twitch and flatten. Her voice lost a little more of its strength: "I do."
"Uh huh. What are you gonna do about it?" He used his knee to nudge her dress up until his other paw could get underneath the hem and drag it up her thigh. "Can't call the cops, obviously."
"N-no," she admitted.
"Maybe your commie drum circle will help." His paw slid up between the Border Collie's legs until the fur became downy and delicate. "You think? You think they have a good protest sign for this? Throw a few extra 'k's in my name..." He fondled her, fingers pushing roughly against her panties. "Could organize a march... letter-writing campaign..."
"Stop it." Kristin shuddered, and with her cheek close to his muzzle he could feel the bitch squeeze her eyes shut. "It's not--it's not funny."
"Never said it was." He growled into the collie's ear, fingers rubbing her with the unhurried idleness of unchallenged possession. "So damn serious. Very serious. So deeply concerned. So above it all."
"I am c-concerned."
"Sure ya are. Alright, Marian Paroo--what'll it be?"
Her head jerked like she was trying to sober up--sure as fuck not because the wolf had his fingers under the cotton now, jet-black fingers growing slick as he stroked her slit. Not at all. "Will what... be?"
"Gonna let me excessive force ya right against the bookshelf? Get ourselves a little two-person rally right here? Or is it simpler, yeah?" He ground his hips into hers from behind, fixing her between his growing bulge and the paw clamped over her crotch. "Find someone to do what your whipped bitch of a husband won't."
"L-leave Connor out of it."
"I intend to," Clint promised, pretty sure that it was, in fact, at least part of the reason she hadn't already kicked him off her. "Guess you wanted a wolf. Explains you and Paul..."
"Paul's j-just a friend. And..." Her breath was catching.
"And we already said it ain't gotta be friendship. But I bet a knot helps. Ain't your husband an otter? Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense..."
"It's not... a-about--it's n-not. Uh. Look..."
"Doing a great job with that resistance, by the way."
"Would it matter? M-maybe... okay, I'm not. Fine. Maybe we can... uh..."
"Show you how this power thing you're into works in the real world? Sure. I'll play along."
The Border Collie shivered at the way his breath worked through her fur. Her tail, Clint noticed, was no longer tucked. "If you want, I could--"
"Don't bother. Here's what you're gonna do." The big wolf's muzzle alone was as thick as her upper arm; his teeth were close enough to her ear that a bit of his saliva wetted it with his growl. "When I let you go, you're gonna open your mouth and you're gonna ask nicely to suck me off."
There was no or else, not unless you counted better than two hundred pounds of well-built predator. He lowered his fingers. Kristin swallowed. "Can I?"
"No. Do better."
"Can I suck your cock? Please? Sir?"
Close enough. He released her and, swallowing hesitantly again, the red merle turned around and got on her knees. She opened his jeans, and he did her the favor of working his boxers around his hefty erection. Confronted with it, her ears swiveled back.
But she licked him all the same. Commie bitch or no, her tongue was still canine-silky and canine-eager. A few tentative swipes of it, and she took the tip of his cock between her lips, sucking him until the wolf rewarded her with a groan and a throbbing trickle of precum. Her tongue lapped him clean.
"See how easy that was?" He put his paws behind her head to keep her still and thrust a couple inches deeper into her mouth. She got the idea, starting to work smoothly back and forth on the wolf.
The longer she went on, the less Clint was doing it just to prove a point. He was a tight fit in the collie's maw, and the suckling pressure engulfing his cock felt good. Properly good.
His paw gave her ear a rough squeeze. "Got a nice mouth on you when you aren't talkin'. Good to know your place, ain't it?" Kristin's answer was a noncommittal grunt and Clint bucked his hips forward, driving her muzzle full of heavy wolf meat--forcing himself deep until the grunt sputtered into a wet, choking gasp. "Ain't it?"
She gagged and pulled back, leaving him to make up the difference in another sharp thrust. Kristin jerked away; for a moment he felt the sides of her teeth on the sensitive flesh of his shaft. She was being difficult. He pulled himself free and left her panting, tongue working to clean his taste from her. "Jesus Christ, don't--"
"You need a better lesson?"
"No. I--I'm done." She got one foot beneath her and started to stand up. Difficult, yeah. She was too off-balance to resist when he pushed her down. The Border Collie fell back against the old, worn carpet with a yelp, and her glasses went askew. "Hey!"
But he had her pinned, his muzzle threateningly posed between her ear and her vulnerable throat. "Who gets to say when you're done?"
"I do! Me!"
Her dress strained and almost tore when he pushed it roughly up to bunch about her hips. He had her pinned with his weight--hips heavy on hers, slick wolf cock a hot, hard portent when it met the thin cotton of her panties. "Try again."
Kristin squirmed, the kick rendered futile by the constriction of her gathered dress. "I..." She tried another kick and it met with no greater success. "Wolf..."
The panties did give in, the fabric yielding when his claw hooked it. Feeling their surrender, the Border Collie lost a bit of her own misguided fighty inclinations. "Be honest. Lyin's a sin. Who says when you're done, civilian?"
"You..."
Still too quiet. "What?"
"You--do!" Clint pushed into her as she started to answer. The tip slid in easily--then a slight resistance, as the thicker swelling of the cock behind it sank into her smooth folds--then that too eased, and he was halfway inside the collie, and the second word spent all her breath in a hoarse gasp.
"There you go." He growled his approval to her, though she was panting quietly and didn't look to be hearing the message. He leaned on her, working the rest of his prick into the dog inch by straining inch.
She took him with a whine and a shudder at the effort--no longer struggling, but he had better than a foot of height on the domestic slut and even Clint was a bit surprised to feel their fur meet before he bottomed out. Kristin gave one last twitch and stopped whining in favor of more useful thoughts--chiefly, dwelling on being stuffed full of wolf.
She'd get her fight back when he started fucking her. While the collie was still dazed he took her wrists in both paws, holding them down above her head. Sure enough, Kristin stiffened up as he withdrew and when he rammed hilt-deep in her tight cunt a second time the bitch yelped and bucked and tried to get her arms free. No dice.
And it wasn't like it had been any harder the second time. Or the third. She loosened up enough to take him pretty easily--the sopping squelch as he drove into her testified to that. Her paws still bunched up. He kept them in place, and pinned her chest under him, as his pace picked up.
Until she calmed down. The thrashing became more rhythmic, more obviously matched to his thrusts. Her arms relaxed and her fingers spread out again. The black wolf hammered his cock into her, stroke after powerful stroke driving him into the hot, wet, clenching pressure of the collie's pussy.
"This is s-so... so wrong," he heard her whimper. Heard the way wrong went strained and high-pitched as he took her, the wolf's tip nudging in deep to emphasize the portent of his warm pre splashing slickly against her walls.
"What is, slut?" Clint bucked roughly as another spurt pulsed into her, slicking the collie up for the final act he could feel approaching. "You learnin' how this works? Hell, you like this."
She tried to answer--her fingers quivered with the exertion it took. But no. His growl had the dangerous purr of a bulldozer starting up, and the wild abandon of his next dozen thrusts left her moaning as he fucked her into the dingy carpet. "Yes," she was able to squeak at last.
"You need it," he snarled. He slid into her again and ground against her hard, his hips lifting hers, forcing her to feel the knot throbbing and straining just inside her. Not big enough to tie them. Definitely big enough to send a cautionary twinge into the bitch.
Not enough caution, though. "Yes." It was a yelp, and on the next thrust Clint felt her fingers clench. Her muzzle opened, working soundlessly. Then there was another yelp and the Border Collie shook and squirmed erratically under him. Her back arched and her hips pressed up against the wolf needily.
As soon as the first instinctive, convulsive urge hit him Clint let his lust take over without trying to hold back. Rapid, clashing, thrusts buried him in her, his knot sliding unevenly home with one wet slurp after the next. Each stroke grew shorter and shorter.
Kristin knew it--they both knew it--when he tied her. She had to know it was useless as she struggled under him and the fuck-drunk collie's voice had a slurred dishonesty as she managed a no, aimed for stop and got out the sputtering first syllable before his teeth bit down on her ear.
"Quiet." Stern, his own voice uneven with the exertion as he humped into her quickly, purposefully, release close and inexorable and she might as well just--"'S a library. You be fuckin' quiet when I--fuck my pups into--ya--y'goddamn--"
He pushed against her with a sharp, culminating effort as the wolf's words cut off, replaced by the lash of sticky heat that jetted into the Border Collie's pussy. And then his speech was just as reflexive as his jerking, jolting thrusts. Good bitch, he groaned to the dog between those pleasurable spasms as he pumped his cum into her, long ropes soaking her cunt with his virile seed.
Somewhere as the wolf's movements slowed and the warmth of his load spreading into her became less deniable Kristin disobeyed his order for quiet: another yelp, and her eyes rolled back. The collie shuddered under the dark wolf breeding her in sure, strong pulses; she was still twitching when he collapsed with a grunt--knot keeping her nice and full even after the spurts had become faint trickles.
"Oh, god... I can't believe you did that..."
Nice use of the second person. Not that he particularly cared, but Clint couldn't read the tone in her voice. Unhappy? Grateful? Bitches could be hard to read sometimes after you got them knotted. "Told you I ain't fucked a collie before. Wanted to."
"You could've warned me before you finished."
"You wouldn't have cared," he said. "Anyway, you're on the Pill or you wanted to get bred. Either way, shut up." She flattened her ears but did as he asked, until his knot shrank and he could get his cock free again.
The Border Collie sat up and hazarded a wary glance at the wolf seed spilling from her. Briefly she tried to keep her dress free from the mess, but it was that or the floor and she gave up with a sigh. "This played out a lot differently in my head."
But then, she hadn't done as good a job with her head, now had she? "You mean with Paul, right?"
Reminded of the other wolf, she flinched. "Yeah. Well he wouldn't have taken it so far."
"Sure. He's fuckin' useless. Look on the bright side, then," Clint said, standing and tugging his jeans back into place. "It was better than he woulda been. Got more accomplished. Had more fun."
"Well..."
"It was."
"Probably, yes. Connor won't... I mean my husband... Jesus, Kristin, what were you thinking..."
"More fun than him, too. Or you wouldn't have gone looking for help, now, would ya?"
Her ears splayed and her voice quieted. "You want to make me say it?"
"I don't have to." He fastened his belt and took a moment to eye her with a well-earned, satisfied grin. "Forget your bitch, Kristin. Tell him you were, I dunno... protesting the regressive ideal of marriage."
"Funny," she muttered.
"Fine. Tell him how badly the state oppressed you, you poor thing." He snorted, picked his jacket off the floor and shrugged it on. "Got a litter injusticed into ya and ya didn't even have to beg."
"I didn't say it was oppression, Clint." She got up, too, legs wobbly.
"Christ, then, what's the problem? Tell him to do his goddamn job so nobody else has to. The police aren't on his side, after all."
"I didn't say that, either. Oof." Kristin made her way to the door and fumbled the keys from the ring about her neck to unlock it for him. "You're not even police. You're just..."
"Just a patron. But good point." He grabbed his backpack by one strap and pushed the door open with his other paw. "Maybe I am ready to go back to work."