FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The outdoor seating area is bathed in warm summer sunshine when Veronica exits the little hillside coffee shop, a steaming fresh mocco latte in each hand.

She winds her way carefully through the crowded tables and heads for her usual spot: a small table in the corner, furthest from the shop's foot traffic and nestled snugly against a low stone wall. The air is nice and breezy there, fragrant with blooming wildflowers, occasionally interrupted by a warm waft of roasting coffee beans.

Her friend Alice is already occupying a seat: an impressive pair of long, sharp antlers jutting up from her head, a smudge of dark chocolate fur wearing gun-metal greys and sporty hot pinks. She looks out of place here, bored, ignoring the beautiful view of the picturesque village below in favor of staring at her phone screen.

Veronica sets their coffees down on the tabletop and drops into a seat. When Alice doesn't look up for several minutes, she heaves a deliberate sigh.

"Oh, thanks," Alice mumbles, reaching blindly over the table for her cup. Veronica nudges it into her palm with her fingertips.

"Any luck?" Veronica asks.

Alice scowls at her phone. "No. Can you fucking believe this? Every fucking place in the country is booked up. At this rate we'll never get in."

"Hmm." Veronica stares out over the quiet village, watching the people and cars below go about their business. It all looks so peaceful. It's as if they all know a secret she and her friend haven't been let in on. "You would think there'd be someplace local," she wonders. "How else is anyone out here expected to start a family? Does anyone even care as much as we do?"

"Everyone cares," Alice scoffs. "They just find ways around it."

"How do you mean?"

The antelope tosses her phone onto the table at long last and sits back, folding her arms atop her expansive chest. "I dunno. Money talks, I guess."

Veronica has never much cared for being rich or famous, but in this one instance, the wolf wishes she had an abundance of both. The pair sip their coffees in dejected silence for a while, contemplating their unwinnable situation.

"Well well well, look who it is!"

Both turn to the source of the voice as it comes squeezing between tables toward them. Their jaws drop at the sight of Dolores, their rabbit friend, who despite being in their same predicament when they last saw her several months ago, now sports an enormously pregnant belly. People scoot their chairs in to make room for her as best they can, but several still end up awkwardly bumped out of the way.

Dolores stops in front of them and glances around, spots an unoccupied chair nearby and drags it over to sit at their table. She smells wonderful, Veronica thinks as Dolores settles in next to her. The air thickens with that unmistakable sweetness that seems to cling to heavily pregnant women. Her sandy fur shines with health and she couldn't look happier.

Noting Alice and Veronica's mutual expressions, she flashes them a decidedly proud grin. "Yep, it happened!"

"How?!" Alice all but yells. "That is_so_ unfair!"

"Don't be mean," Veronica says, nudging the antelope's shin with her foot. "We're happy for you, Dolores, but I have to ask the same: How on earth did you get a placement?"

"Oh, do you have to suck all the fun and mystery out of it with questions?" Dolores pouts.

Alice looks on, eyes smouldering with envy. "So, when are you due?"

"November," Dolores replies. "Still a ways to go yet."

"And already that big?" Her eyes widen. "Must have cost a small fortune."

"Not as much as you'd expect, actually."

Veronica frowns. Of the many websites she scoured over the past several months, all of them, without fail, would charge an entire year's wages to skip the line for a mating with even their bottom-tier males. And while Dolores clearly earns enough to treat herself with trendy clothes and the occasional designer handbag, Veronica wouldn't consider her rich, by any means. Something about this doesn't add up.

Alice must have the same idea, because her eyes narrow and she leans in conspiratorially, voice hushed. "Dolores," she whispers, "tell me you didn't..."

Dolores' grin grows wider. Veronica glances between them, still lost. Alice looks positively scandalized by whatever it is she seems to have figured out, a look that their gravid friend seems thoroughly amused by.

"I can't believe you'd go there!" Alice cries. "I mean, listen, I get it. These are desperate times, but..."

"I was not going to spend one more night alone, horny out of my mind and systematically working my way through every single dildo and vibrator in my collection," Dolores explains. "Nor was I going to wait literal years for a mating, when I'm at my peak right now and it's only downhill from here."

"And that was your solution?" Alice's mouth twists in clear disgust.

Dolores rolls her eyes. "Oh, relax! It's not like I went trawling backstreet alleyways in search of the first erect penis willing to do the job. He's a professional."

"What are you two talking about?" Veronica interrupts.

The rabbit purses her lips for a moment, then reaches for her handbag, huffing and gasping with the effort to bend over in her burdened state. A moment later she straightens, a small, black business card in hand. She slides it across the table and Alice snatches it up before Veronica could even read the words on the front.

Alice examines the card for a long minute, her expression unreadable. "'Travis'?" She scoffs and tosses the card back onto the table. "Yeah, definitely not a professional."

"You'll be surprised."

"No, I won't. Because I'd never stoop that low." She gathers her phone and shoves it into the back pocket of her denim shorts, then stands abruptly. "Listen, I gotta run. Literally. I'm like that movie with the bus. If my heart rate drops below one-twenty for more than fifteen minutes at a time, I feel like I'm going to explode."

"I get that way too," Dolores remarks, "but I don't run. My methods are more fun." She winks at the pair, who know her well enough to understand what she's referring to. Alice rolls her eyes, but thankfully decides not to comment. She leaves them with a parting wave, and for a moment Veronica and Dolores share a companionable silence.

"Um... So, what did you do?" Veronica asks, still grasping for the uptake. Her eyes fall back to the card on the table. There's only a name and address written on it, stark gold lettering against a coal black background. Some kind of private service?

"He's an unlicensed Breeder," Dolores explains. "But not the sort Alice is thinking about. He's actually really good."

"You paid him?"

"Of course."

"But what about... diseases?" Veronica pries cautiously, not wanting to upset her friend but finding herself fascinated by the conversation. She has never known someone to resort to this sort of thing before. The media is always harping on the dangers of it, from STDs to abuse and occasionally even worse, so the option had never even crossed her mind before.

But Dolores looks and smells amazing next to her. And there's no denying the quality of the result: by the size of her, she must be carrying at least eight little kits in there.

"He was clean as a whistle. Had paperwork to prove it, even."

Clean, fertile,and cheap? It sounds too good to be true. Veronica's fingers play restfully around her empty styrofoam cup. She has to admit, the idea is beginning to tempt her, but there has to be a catch. Some major flaw Dolores isn't letting on about.

"Listen, why don't you take that card with you," Dolores gently suggests, perhaps sensing the wolf's wavering opinion. "A phone call doesn't cost anything. And if you're worried about what Alice might think, my suggestion is: Just don't tell her. It's none of her business, right?"

"No, but..." Veronica shakes her head, laughing a little sadly. "We made a promise." She feels ridiculous saying it, but it's important to her. Alice has been a staunch friend since they were children. They've done everything together, their whole lives. This was supposed to be no different.

They would get pregnant together, they said. Same day, same male, everything. And they would go shopping together and buy matching maternity clothes and baby clothes and be like pregnancy twins. It feels dumb now, thinking back on it. Unrealistic.

But still. Even considering the idea, without Alice, feels like a betrayal.

Dolores regards her quietly for a moment before speaking again, her voice soft. "Hun, I'm not here to tell you what to do. You have to decide what's more important to you. None of us are getting any younger..." She stops, spotting the familiar figure jogging along the distant hillside roads. She reaches over to touch Veronica's arm, a friendly gesture of comfort. "Everyone's on their own path. Don't let anyone stop you reaching for your dreams."

Veronica smiles, grateful for her impartial advice. They chat a while longer until Dolores also bids her farewell, leaving her to contemplate their discussion privately. It's not until she herself is gathering her things to leave that she realises Dolores left behind the little black business card on the table.

Whether on accident or purpose, she couldn't possibly say.

---

Veronica's arms act on autopilot as she unpacks her grocery bags in the kitchen. It's been a long day.

After the morning coffee-meet, she busied herself with the day's errands and did some shopping, later stopping off at a relative's house to help them unpack some moving-in boxes, before finally arriving back home at her small but cosy terraced house at around seven o'clock.

Now there's nothing left to do but fix dinner, relax for a while, and then head to bed. The mundanity of it allows her mind to wander. She'd done a good job of distracting herself from that itchy, creeping feeling that has been shifting and crawling beneath her skin all day. But now, with only her own company and the deafening silence of her home, there is no escaping it.

At least it's familiar, but it's by no means welcome; she knows what the growing discomfort heralds, and the thought makes her miserable. She doesn't want to endure another heat like this alone, body left achingly unsatisfied. Fingers and toys can only give fleeting relief on a surface level: a release of pressure, a temporary dazzling of nerves. It's not enough, not anymore. Her body has become increasingly wise to such tricks over the years, and lately its demands have become insatiable.

She breathes a weary sigh and toes off her shoes, flexing her cramped feet against the cool tile floor for a moment before padding into the living room and flopping down onto the couch. The TV blares loud nonsense for a second until she mutes it, uninterested in the programming. She just wants the color, the movement. The air in the house is too still.

She needs to mate. Every fibre in her body will be crying out for it in the next few days, ovaries growing hard and sore, the lining of her uterus thickening itself in preparation. She'll begin soaking through her undies uncontrollably, body ravaged by hormones, her passage slicking the way for that thick pillar of flesh it so craves to plunge deep inside her, leaving its rare gift in the spongy cradle of her womb.

Except, there won't be any.

Veronica stares at the muted TV, but her mind is elsewhere, drawn out into the hallway, to her purse on a table by the front door. She shuts her tired eyes and can almost see inside it, see the little black business card tucked neatly in the inner pocket. It calls to her, its lettering clear in her mind as if emblazoned into her retinas: 'Travis Owen - Breeder for Hire', followed by an address and--crucially--phone number.

Her eyes flick down to her phone on the coffee table, and her fingers twitch.

Dolores had sounded so reassuring. But she can't simply dismiss her caution, not after the horror stories she'd read online. 'Unlicensed' was a red flag word to her. It meant unregulated, unmonitored, unsafe. There were no enforced standards of safety, of hygiene, or fertility. What if he was a conman? Many were, according to the statistics.Low men, infertile men, desperate to feel needed, to feel like they matter, starving for the touch of a woman. They would sink to any depths to get what they needed. Some would even turn violent, taking out their bitterness and need for revenge for society's harsh treatment of them on the very women who'd grown desperate enough to seek them out in the first place.

Were they all like that? Probably not. She supposed there were a few decent males in the mix, who took their responsibility seriously and didn't do it to take advantage of the vulnerable, naive, or stupid. But if they were so great, why would they need to go independent in the first place? Why would they reject all that the government offered them?

Because they'd rather play by their own rules?

Regulations and standard practices had their downsides, after all. Too much red tape, boundaries they weren't allowed to cross, things they weren't allowed to do. Some Breeder Houses apparently didn't even let them talk, kept their muzzles gagged with feeding tubes or their eyes blindfolded, their limbs pinned and their cocks eternally hardened by a cocktail of drugs. Living people, reduced to mere implements of impregnation: objects to be used, over and over, without agency.

Even if they enjoy it, even if the few males she knew growing up seemed all too eager to find out their status and be sent away to their new lives of endless physical pleasure, Veronica finds the idea quietly horrifying.

So, yes. She can understand why some would choose their own path. Even if it were illegal, and even if they'd struggle to carve out a reputation among the liars and rapists.

At some point in the last five minutes she had gotten up, wandered into the hall, and found the card. Now back in her seat, her phone trembles slightly in her hand. She's afraid--of what? She can hang up any time. He won't know where she lives. There's no danger here.

Yet, even as her hackles raise and her mouth goes dry, something hot and needy curls in her abdomen, urging her fingers to press the buttons.

She holds the phone to her ear, and waits.

"This is Travis. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

Veronica bites back a whimper at the deep timbre of his voice. "Hello," she says, cursing inwardly at the sudden meekness she heard in her own voice. She sits up straighter, trying to project more confidence. "This is Veronica. A friend of mine, Dolores, she umm..."

"Ahh, say no more. I hope I can help you, miss Veronica. I would very much like to. What is it that you need?"

Your cock, she thinks, then shakes the crass words out of her mind, lest she accidentally say it out loud. "What you did for Dolores," she explains, "I... I'd like that too, but I'm not sure about all this. I've never done this before. I have... concerns."

"That's perfectly natural," he says, his voice smooth as satin, deep and reassuring. The heat in Veronica's groin spreads, tendrils of arousal dancing up and down her spine. "You need to know you'll be treated like a woman deserves. That I won't simply take, but give, as many times as you need and in precisely the fashion you desire."

That doesn't sound very exciting, but that's not really the point, Veronica supposes. "All I want is to be pregnant," she replies. "I don't care how."

"I see." He pauses. "Then, what if I were to promise you that, but it would be on_my_ terms?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'll give you what you want. But first you must give yourself to me, fully and without complaint."

"I..."

"I'll take you any way I want. For as long as I want. I'll have you on hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress, and you'll present to me like a horny lapdog with your rump in the air, shameless and obedient."

His tone had deepened toward the end, consonants growing sharper, his words turned filthy yet still somehow managing to sound refined, like the burn of a fine whiskey. Veronica can't help the small, raw noise that escapes her throat, winding its way around the finger caught between her teeth.

He heard it; there was no way he didn't. She thinks she hears him make a pleased sort of sound, and her eyes fall closed as she tries to gather her wits. This is not the time to succumb to fantasy. That's how women like her get taken advantage of.

"Like I said, I don't care how," she says, but it's a bold-faced lie. Her voice comes out too rough, too breathless. She wants it like that, exactly how he described.

"Oh, but I think you do care," comes his dark reply, a hint of wry amusement in his voice that has Veronica slipping a treacherous hand between her legs despite herself. Just a small bit of friction, that's all she needs. Something to take the edge off. "I can hear it in your voice, don't try to hide it. I want to hear it. Hear_you_."

His voice is incredible. She wonders what he must look like. "If this is a con, you're good at it," Veronica says half-jokingly, her voice hitching at the word 'good'. Good is an understatement; he seems to have gleaned exactly what she wants without her directly specifying it.

"I think you're starting to realise that you wouldn't care if I was," Travis replies. "All you can think about is our meeting. About how I'd take you, hard from behind, while you scrabble uselessly against the sheets of my bed. You don't just want to be fucked, do you? You want to be bred like some ancestral thing. Like women of old, back in ages long past when men were equally capable of being dominant, of taking what they wanted, when they wanted it. I'll take you just like that, Veronica, if that's what you want. And when I'm done, you won't care about anything else: Only the throbbing pleasure between your thighs and the fullness of your womb."

Her gasp is loud, brazen in the silence of her home. Her fingers have slipped further down to bury themselves in wet heat. "Please," she whispers, shaking as she fingers herself. Her cheeks burn with arousal and she can't bring herself to care about how she must sound to him. "Don't stop talking."

"Are you touching yourself right now?"

"Yes," she admits, her throat dry.

"Good," he purrs, the elongated sound of it making her knees quiver. "You love to be dominated, don't you? I bet you wish there were Breeding Houses for women, too, hmm? You can imagine yourself there, can't you? Bound and gagged, your legs held apart by spreader bars, tail pulled up and back. What a perfect view for that endless procession of horny males and their hard cocks, your ass and cunt on public display, dripping with desire."

The obscenity of his speech clashes with his upmarket accent in a way that sends Veronica's imagination spiralling. She can't help but picture herself there, exactly as he describes. Her fingers sink deeper, rubbing the soft walls of her flesh while her thumb presses circles around her engorged clit. It's torture, all too inadequate, but she's already so close. All she needs is his voice to not stop.

He sounds breathier now, as if Travis' own words are having an affect on him, too, and Veronica can't help imagining him lazily stroking his erection, even though she has no idea what he looks like. But he'd be smiling to himself, she thinks, at the quivering mess she must sound like on the phone. Does this happen often, she wonders? Does he do this to all the women he speaks to? Part of his sales technique, perhaps? She doesn't dare imagine she's anything special in that regard, but...

"Did Delores tell you anything about my physicality?" Travis asks.

"No."

"Then I should help your imagination along, shouldn't I? You are currently speaking to a mule. I prefer the term over 'donkey', though the latter would be more physically accurate. My height is average, though the same could not be said for the rest of me. Hold out your arm."

"What?" The command was sudden, unexpected. She isn't sure if she heard it correctly.

"Hold out your arm," he repeats, more demanding this time, and Veronica complies automatically.

"Okay..."

It's not as easy as that, but she manages to cradle the phone between her shoulder and ear while she holds her free arm out, her other still busy between her thighs.

"I'm holding it out."

"Good. Do you see its thickness?" he asks. "Now imagine twice that around, but about the same length from shoulder to wrist. That is what I have, flushed dark and hot in my palm as I imagine burying it to the hilt inside you," he says. "I've been mistaken for one of those overgrown Lows many times in my life. But I assure you, my fertility is without question."

Veronica gives up trying to stay silent. Part of her wants him to hear her, wants the sound of her soft moans to affect him, to cause his voice to falter and all that smooth control break apart at the sound of her pleasuring herself.

"I'll make you heavy with cubs," he continues, his voice thick as treacle, like honey dripping from a spoon, and she could swear to hear the sound of some slick, repeated movement in the background of his call. "Even as you swell beneath me, I won't stop. Not until I've saturated you with it, sticky and hot, fertilizing every single egg your heat-riddled ovaries let slip into that virile cocktail. And you'll orgasm, Veronica. Repeatedly."

"Oh, god..."

"Your every nerve will alight with pulse after pulse of endless pleasure--"

"Fuck--!"

"--and it won't stop until_I_ decide you've had enough. Now, come for me, Veronica," he demands, the words grit out through clenched teeth and rippling with urgency. "Let me hear you. Come for me!"

The orgasm crashes over her in powerful waves, drawing a cry from her lungs and causing the seat beneath her to grow so slick she almost slips off the edge. A noise like a grunt crackles through the phone's speaker, but the damn thing jostles free of her grip and clatters to the floor between her quivering legs. Helpless, she rides out the rest of her orgasm alone, unsure if what she heard in that moment was the reciprocal sound of Travis climaxing, or just the sound of him shifting in his seat.

Damn it. Now she'll never know.

When she's recovered enough to move, she plucks the phone from the floor with shaky fingers. "Sorry," she says, clearing the thickness from her throat. "I dropped my phone."

"That's fine," Travis replies. He sounds perfectly normal again, not a hint of strain or darkness that had overtaken his voice during their sordid chat. It leaves her to question if it was ever there at all. The thought that he might not have been turned on at all, just acting, causes her chest to constrict with a sudden wave of embarrassment.

"Would you like to make an appointment?"

The simple question hangs heavy in the air, laden with possibilities. Veronica's gaze shifts around her home, at the single coat hanging by the door, the bare tabletop in the kitchen. She listens to the quietness, the lack of little voices and pattering feet, and something next to her heart clenches with loneliness.

"Yes, please," she answers at last. "When will you be available?"

---

On first sight of the stately manor house--two storeys of power-washed red brick and gleaming windows--Alice almost climbs straight back into her taxi.

This_can't_ be the place.

Situated far back on a gravel driveway and nestled among neatly clipped topiaries, this looked no place for an unlicensed Breeder to be operating out of. As she steps up to the front gate, nobody is there to greet her in person, but movement from an overhead surveillance camera gives a subtle indication that she treads within view of the house's occupant.

Or would that be occupants, plural? Because it's hard to imagine anyone living here alone. What would they do with all the extra rooms?

Sunlight gleams along the bars of the wrought iron gate as it slides open to welcome her onto the property. She frowns, peering up at the windows of the house in mild hope of catching a glimpse inside, but most have their curtains drawn. Only a single room on the top floor has itself exposed to the world--His bedroom, perhaps?--But all Alice can see from her position is a bare patch of unassuming ceiling.

With a shake of her head, Alice approaches the front door, the quiet courtyard air disturbed by the crunch of gravel beneath her feet. She lifts a hand to knock, already bracing against the embarrassment of being sent away by some confused housekeeper, but the door opens right away, and the man who appears there neither looks, nor sounds, the part of a servant.

"Alice, I presume?" He beams a warm, welcoming smile. "Please, do come in."

Alice bites back a noise of surprise. It's him; Travis. She recognizes his voice from the phone. But even if he hadn't spoken, she would have known from his appearance alone. The donkey is impeccably groomed and dressed in expensive fabrics, from the fetching dark grey pants and matching waistcoat with gold buttons, to the crisp white shirt tucked underneath. His long ears--one pierced with a single, fetching silver ring--splay at casual angles from a nest of luxuriously silken black hair, below which his sharp eyes study her with intelligence and warm curiosity.

"Hi," she says, feeling suddenly underdressed in her lycra gym leggings and entirely too-revealing sports bra. "I had no idea this place would be so... I came straight from the gym, see, and I guess I figured--"

"You thought it wouldn't matter, because neither of us would remain clothed for very long anyway," Travis suggests, chuckling. "You weren't wrong. Though, I had hoped to have a chance to make you comfortable first." He turns, gestures for her to follow him inside his massive home. "Would you like a drink?"

Alice shrugs. No point being embarrassed, especially as he doesn't seem to mind. "Sure, I guess."

She steps into the foyer after him, and is thankful that his back remains turned, because she can't suppress the look of shock that must steal across her face. Wood-panelled walls, high ceilings, shiny brass lamps, intricate woven floor rugs--Travis passes by it all without a second glance, and not wanting to fall behind, Alice allows him to lead her briskly up the wide, curving staircase to the manor's second floor.

Their footsteps pad softly along thick, burgundy carpet, past tastefully arranged paintings and hanging mirrors in gilded frames. There's a million questions hovering at Alice's lips, but it suddenly feels wrong to ask any of them. She was prepared for many things, but not this. Is he some kind of... nobleman? Royalty? Even as she considers it, it seems unlikely. Putting aside the simple fact that no male of any importance would be allowed to live alone in a place like this, it seems equally unlikely that any public figure would so carelessly risk his reputation offering such off-the-record services.

Still, he must have a lot of money. Or a powerful family, or...something, anything that would explain all this. She finds herself growing increasingly uncertain about the whole idea. If he were the dirty, desperate male she'd been picturing in her head, that would be different. They would be much less likely to be found out. And even if someone suspected her pregnancy was illegitimate, they'd probably never figure out who the male was or where he lived.

But besides the security aspect, she'd been looking forward to the power dynamic of such an encounter: of her being the dominant one, the one in charge. She wanted to pin him down, take what she wanted and have fun while doing it, but Travis...Fuck, he's handsome. There's no denying that. She would gladly do all those things and more to him, given the chance.

He just doesn't seem like that kind of male.

He's too confident, that's the problem. He carries himself with refinement and self-assurance. He leads on through his richly decorated home and expects her to follow, and she feels very much like an honored guest in his home. And that's the whole problem: He has all of the power here. He's calling the shots. And Alice...

She's starting to have second thoughts.

What's even more worrying is how he doesn't seem to be hiding himself at all. Business cards with his name and address? A huge house, tailored clothes? There's no way he flies under the radar like that. People must know about him. Important people. He must have connections in high places, and it was all too easy to get an appointment, she thinks, no waiting in line, no exorbitant, up-front fees. It's almost as if...

Alice halts in her tracks, her fur prickling in alarm.

Is this some kind of government trap? A honeypot operation? Are police about to burst out of these doors and arrest her for taking part in unlicensed breeding?

Several steps ahead, Travis stops and turns, a kind but quizzical look on his face. "Something wrong?" he asks. "The room is just down here."

"Is this for real?" she asks, tense, ready to bolt downstairs at the slightest noise. "Are you some kind of undercover... D.I.C.K agent, or something?"

Travis blinks at her, his eyes inscrutable for a long moment. Then, carding a hand through his ebony hair, he stares at the wall and seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. "I'm not any kind of undercover anything," he assures, eyes creasing with mirth. "Except, occasionally, in bed. If it's cold."

He stretches out a hand. Alice hesitates a moment longer, but slowly resumes following him, pointedly avoiding his eyes. She could still be right about this whole thing. But something about him is so honest, so open. She tamps down her embarrassment, chiding herself inwardly for being so paranoid.

At last, Travis stops in front of one of the many tightly-shut doors. He pauses, gripping the brass handle and glancing back at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Then he pushes the door open and enters the room.

The bedroom is large, but cozy, with dark wood flooring polished to a mirror shine, and a large fireplace against the far wall, its hearth currently extinguished. A pair of black leather sofas are pushed intimately close along the left wall, while on the right, a reading table and antique-looking chair are huddled by an enormous bookshelf.

It could be mistaken for a living area, if not for the room's grand centerpiece: an enormous circular bed, scarlet in color, like expensive wine. It looks extraordinarily comfy, but has no clear head or foot, only endless edges buffered with rolled velvet pillows atop silken sheets. The floor beneath it is covered with a large shag rug in purest white.

But it's not the room itself that she notices first. That only occurs to her after: peripheral details, not quite as important as the main thing, but they slot into place anyway, almost as an afterthought. No, what drew her eye the moment Travis cleared her line of sight was not the fireplace, the bookshelf, or even the bed, but the person sitting_on_ the bed, who glances up now with the same sort of surprised expression that must appear on her own face.

"Veronica?" she asks, incredulous. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The wolf somehow manages to do an impeccable impression of a deer in headlights. "I... Travis suggested that I... sit-in on another session. Because I wasn't sure, if..." Her eyes flit to Travis, who stands off to the side patiently, hands clasped behind his back. "Did you know?"

"That you two are friends?" He gives a slight smirk. "A little bird may have told me beforehand."

"Or a rabbit?" Alice asks, narrowing her eyes. "Look, no offense V, but I had no idea this would be a threesome. I'm not even sure if I still--"

"Oh, I won't be involved," Veronica says, glancing worriedly between them. "Right? You said I could just watch?"

"If that's okay with your friend." Travis turns to Alice, offering her an easy, hopeful look. "Would you mind?"

Alice presses her lips thin.No, this is wrong, she thinks. As if his unexpected assertiveness hadn't already been a huge turn-off. Now he springs a surprise like this on her, last minute? What else will he decide without her? Will he be dictating their positions while they fuck? Will it be him who decides if she's even worthy of having an orgasm on his perfectly clean sheets?

The Fuck this, I'm out is hovering at her lips, but before she can say a word everything about his demeanor changes, from the expression on his face to the very way he stands. All the confidence seems to melt out of his frame, leaving him looking timid, even flighty. His ears droop, his eyes shimmer. His hands draw up and in, worrying together at his chest. He approaches her, somehow appearing to shrink an inch in height, and when he reaches out, he seems oddly unsure of it, as if afraid to touch her.

"Please," he says, his voice barely above a whisper and a half-octave higher than what it was mere moments ago. "I... I've been so looking forward to this. Your voice, on the phone, I..." He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, uncharacteristically demure. "You sounded... strong. Not only physically, but... You knew what you wanted. You asked to see me, but it felt more like a demand. I couldn't possibly say no. I couldn't help myself, all I could picture was you shoving me down, climbing over me and... and..."

He shudders. His whole body actually_shudders_ as he stares up at her with dark, hooded eyes. And sham or not, she can't deny the effect it's having on her.

Fuck, but she wants to do all that and more to him, right fucking now.

But, no. This isn't fair! In fact, she finds the manipulation utterly insulting. Angered, she grabs him by the waist, crumpling the expensive fabric of his clothes, but he doesn't seem to mind it. "This is an act," she scoffs, and yanks him toward her, seeking to prove it. Their bodies collide and Travis gasps at the impact, but it is Alice who stands stunned, awash in disbelief at the very real impression of his hardening cock as it pokes against her thigh.

"Not an act," Travis says, his smile sheepish. "But nothing turns me on more than to give you just what you want. And you want me like this... Don't you?"

Alice gapes at him. It's like he's become a different person. And this Travis, this quivering thing in her arms, she can definitely picture him keening beneath her as she fucks him well into the night. She glances over his shoulder at Veronica, who looks as unsure as she feels, but not half as aroused. Their eyes meet, and Veronica gives a little,Why not? shrug.

Travis peels away from her then, backing slowly towards the bed until his heels catch on the edge. His eyes never leave hers as he sits, hands smoothing along the sheets, his head tilted to one side to expose the vulnerable expanse of his neck.

"I'd undress, but I have a feeling you'd rather tear all this expensive clothing off me yourself..."

Her mouth waters.Yes, she thinks, heat coiling in her abdomen. Her fingers twitch into fists as she steps toward the bed, and Travis watches her, his eyes still brimming with focus and intelligence beneath the dark haze of arousal that's come to cloud over them. Alice grabs fistfuls of his waistcoat and shoves him down, at the same time climbing over him to pin him there on top of the crimson sheets. Travis gasps, his body slotted perfectly along the gap of her thighs; her glutes are thick enough to encompass his hips, his cock a solid line pressing up between them through the material of his pants. The sight of him like this, helpless and horny beneath her, it's...

He's incredible.

So changeable, so responsive. She grinds against him experimentally and watches with dark delight as his eyes flutter closed. Next to them, Veronica stands from the bed and moves over to sit in one of the antique chairs by the bookshelf, maybe to have a better view, or just that she probably doesn't want to get in their way.

Good, Alice thinks. Then I won't have to hold back.

Alice hooks her fingers inside the neck of Travis' waistcoat and yanks it open, sending its shiny gold buttons flying. He flinches, but doesn't protest. His shirt is next to be ruined, finest cotton ripping aside to reveal the rapid rise and fall of his bare chest. Travis stares up at her, wide-eyed, but he doesn't look afraid, only awed. Perhaps she's stronger than he'd imagined.

"Hope you don't think I'll be paying for that," she says, smirking to cover the hint of real worry that steals into her voice that he might expect just that.

"No, no, not at all," he replies, still staring at her. "It's as I told you over the phone. No fee. I invited you here because... Because I couldn't bear the thought of not getting to see you in person. To do this, with someone whose voice alone affected me so." A high blush comes to his cheeks, his mouth left open. Alice feels a rush of something dark and hot travel down to the point of contact between their hips and she grinds him again, harder this time, causing them both to moan.

"I should warn you though," Travis continues, his eyes half-lidded, "I may have the physicality of the rarest Low, but I'm afraid I can't quite match their stamina. I have no access to their medications, their training..."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Alice says, bending over to bring her face close to his. The move presses her generous breasts against his chest, compressing it, causing his breaths to become even more shallow. "We'll be going my tempo, and you won't come a second before I decide you're allowed to. Is that clear?"

He nods, but there's a flicker of worry in his eyes. Alice wonders how deep his ability to act goes: it's obvious that his more exaggerated gestures are tailored for her tastes, despite anything he says about it being real, but what about the smaller details? Despite the way he appears now, breathless and suppliant, she can still detect an undercurrent of careful self-control. She doesn't like it. She wants him powerless, not just over her but of himself, as well. Her desire to see his composure crumble, for him to forget himself and show his true colors, suddenly takes on a new urgency.

She sits back up to rest on her haunches. "The pants: take them off," she demands. "Slowly."

Travis complies immediately, his fingers all too steady at his belt, pulling it free and unbuttoning the fly.

"Slowly, I said."

His eyes dart up in surprise at her tone. He ducks his head in a slight nod, his movements a little more tense than before as he concentrates on being slow for her.

His thumbs hook under the hem of his pants and waits there, until a nod from Alice gives him permission to slowly pull them down over his hips. It doesn't escape her notice that he's also pulling down his underwear, or else he simply wasn't wearing any to begin with, but she lets the disobedience slide, for now. She's too eager to get a look at him, to see what all the fuss is about.

If he's as fertile as he claims, then surely he can't be_that_ well-hung. Nature had her wires firmly crossed in that regard when she decided that only Low males would be born with hyper-genitalia. There'd only been a single case in recent memory of a high-fertility male--a bear, if she recalls correctly--with a cock so big, he was now considered one of the country's most treasured Breeder males.

The prices that one commanded were equally enormous.

But as the material slides down Travis' thighs, Alice has to bite her lip at the sight of his newly naked form. The hair between his legs is as dark as the rest, and the skin of his shaft--so long that, despite appearing half-hard already, it still,still hasn't sprung free, even with his pants wrapped around his knees--the skin of it is a dusky ashen color, tinged with carmine hues from all the blood pulsing through it.

His balls are big and full-looking, too. They rest heavy between his legs, like a bloated velvet bag holding a pair of ripe pomelos.

Travis struggles to reach any further down without rising off the bed, so Alice helps pull his pants the rest of the way off. And finally his cock is free, bouncing back up to lean at an awkward angle against one of his thighs, gravity and its own weight making it list even as it stiffens further.

Alice swallows. Her mouth has become wet at the sight of it. This, if nothing else, he certainly hadn't been lying about: it's as big and thick as he'd described, and she can already imagine it sinking into her, its tip easily reaching the limit of her depth and pressing ever on, through the tight hole of her cervix and even deeper still.

But she's getting ahead of herself.

"And what would you like to do with that?" she asks him, taking the weight of it into her hands and slowly, carefully, giving it one long stroke. "Tell me, and be honest."

"I--Uhn..." Travis swallows, tries again. "I'd very much like for you to... to sit on it. So I can fuck you with it."

She can't help but grin. Is he already forgetting his role in this, so soon? Maybe breaking him will be easier than she imagined. "You won't be fucking_me_," she corrects. "I'll be fucking you. If I decide I want to, that is."

"Yes, of course," he says, his ears flat against the bed.

"This cock doesn't belong to you anymore. It belongs to me. And maybe I'll decide you don't deserve to be inside me at all."

He says nothing at that, only looks up at her with a wonderful mixture of panic and heat in his eyes. But he must genuinely enjoy her teasing, because a thick bead of precum appears at the very tip of his cock, and Alice can't resist finding out what it tastes like.

The noise Travis makes when her tongue laps over the flattened head of his equine cock sounds much louder than he'd intended. His mouth snaps shut, trapping the rest in his throat, but his fists grab at the bedsheets in restrained pleasure. She does it again, experimentally, marvelling at the salty taste of it, how warm and smooth, like tropical seawater, and this time he barely makes a noise at all at the slide of her tongue, though the tension running through his muscles signals more than he's letting on.

No, this won't do, she thinks.

Without breaking eye contact, she opens her mouth as wide as she can and takes the glans past her wetted lips, pressing up hard against the sensitive flesh with her tongue. Travis' back arches off the bed, his head thrown back with a moan that sounds wrenched out of him without his consent.

Better.

Travis is panting, and Alice can taste more salty precum spilling out over her tongue. She pushes the liquid to the front and and pulls away, using her hand to coat the rest of his shaft with it, slicking him up for what she really wants to do. Travis senses her intentions, his eyes watching her movements with renewed hope, but she's determined he won't get it as easily as that.

If he thinks for one second any part of this will go in his terms, he is sorely mistaken.

"Bend your knees," Alice says, standing from the bed to begin undressing herself. Travis does so and watches her peel her top off over her head, letting her huge breasts bounce free of their confines. His eyes darken considerably as they fix on the sight of her bare nipples, but she carefully pretends not to notice. Next comes her pants and panties, and this she does slow down for, if only to draw out his anticipation even longer. Her own, too, admittedly. For as desperately eager she is to start fucking him properly, she doesn't want it to be over so soon.

But judging from the steady stream of precum now trickling down Travis' wet cock, it might be over far sooner than she'd like.

Freed of her clothing, Alice climbs back onto the bed. She grabs his legs under his bent knees and pushes them up, so that the tops of his thighs are pressed either side of him against the mattress. Then, with all the delicious bulk of his cock and balls on full display, she lowers herself down to sit on his thighs, her decidedly wet sex settling heavy into the space between his balls and the base of his shaft.

At the shock of her heat, Travis' hand flies to his mouth and he bites the back of it to muffle the sound he makes. Alice grips his wrist and pulls it roughly to his side.

"No," she scolds. "None of that. I want to hear every little needy noise you make."

Travis swallows and nods almost imperceptibly.

To test him, Alice circles her hips against his skin. The friction makes her own throat draw tight as sparks of pleasure skitter up her spine, the solid edge of his cock rubbing against her clit with the motion. This time, when Travis moans, he doesn't hold it back, and the deep timbre of his slightly wrecked voice makes her thighs quiver with want.

"You want to be inside me, do you?" she asks.

"Yes," he breathes. "Please."

"I don't know," she says, stilling her hips and frowning down at him. "Maybe you can't give me what I want. Look at you, you're already shaking. You won't last long enough to satisfy me."

Something like true panic crosses his features. He tames it quickly, but not quick enough to hide the genuine depth of his concern. "I will," he says, a pleading edge in his tone. "I promise, I'll give you what you want."

"Will you?"

"Yes," he insists, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I wouldn't dream of disappointing you."

Alice can't stand it any longer. For all she's enjoying this, teasing him, watching him squirm beneath her, part of her has started to worry she might be right about him: that he really won't last. And although her main goal in coming here at all was for him to make her pregnant, she wanted to come at least once herself.

If she doesn't get started now, she might not have the opportunity.

Taking his (very hard, now) cock in her hands, Alice lifts herself up and pushes it under her, barely able to create enough space for it to slide in between them. In fact, the last few inches of it have to drag against her mound as she moves it under and between her legs, the resulting bolt of pleasure making her hips stutter.

But then the head of his cock is disappearing between her folds, her body enveloping him in soft, wet heat, and she sinks down over him, gasping at the feeling of being speared on a cock so thick and solid as this.

Travis lets out a long gasp of his own, his hands flying up to grip her ass cheeks and squeeze them.

"Hands by your sides," Alice demands. His hands drop back to the mattress and he looks pained with the effort of keeping them there.

Rising back up, Alice tenses all her pelvic muscles around him, so that her body is almost sucking his cock as it slides out of her. It must feel good because his hips thrust up, chasing the sensation.

"Back off."

Travis drops his hips, disappointment clear in his features. Pleased, Alice spreads her palms along his chest. "You're not to move a muscle, understand?"

He nods, teeth clenched in concentration. He looks gorgeous like this, she thinks. Lying there, so compliant, so eager to please. His whole body is tense as piano wire, and sweat trickles off his brow with the effort it's taking him to keep still, to stop him surging up into the heat he must crave like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

Alice shoves down onto him with force, her mouth dropping open when she feels the head of his cock bump against her cervix. She rises up and does it again, then again, finding a rhythm that's slow and hard at the same time. It makes every long drag of his cock through her feel incredibly intense. She can feel her muscles moulding to the shape of it, caressing every ridge, every throbbing vein. Travis seems to have lost the ability to breathe without making some noise, every shuddering rise and fall of his chest accompanied by a low, rumbling moan that resonates in Alice's clitoris like the hard press of a vibrator.

She holds a steady pace, far too slow for any meaningful build up of an orgasm for herself, but Travis...Oh, look at him, she thinks. His eyes are so dark there's almost no color left in them. His hands clench and unclench repeatedly at his sides--he's being so good, so patient.

She allows a dark smile to spread on her lips as she slows her pace even further, until she is sitting over him again and only rolling her hips around in a slow, torturous motion.

"Alice," Travis manages between gasps, his eyes shut tight. "P-Please, I... I need..."

"This isn't about what_you_ need, honey," Alice replies, reveling in his powerlessness. "And you'd better not cum before I do. No man who'd consider himself a good Breeder would dare think about being so selfish."

His cry of helplessness almost comes out as a sob, but he nods fervently, clearly wanting to please her. Whether his body will be so willing to hold back is another matter.

Alice decides she's had enough of foreplay. It's time to get down to business, because if she doesn't do it soon, she might miss her chance entirely. She begins moving again, using his cock like a glorified dildo, angling it in all the right ways to stimulate her pleasure points.

"Look at me," she commands, but even as Travis peers up at her with glazed-over eyes, she wonders if it will be too much for him. He can't hold her gaze; his eyes keep dipping down to her bouncing breasts, and his mouth hangs open, as wet as hers was when she first saw his cock growing hard before her eyes.

Alice presses one hand to her clit and begins rubbing it in quick circles. Her other hand braces her weight against the mattress as she leans over, letting her breasts dangle in front of his face. "Since you're being so good for me," she says, her voice hitching.

His eyes widen, perhaps shocked at her generosity. But then his face disappears where it ducks below her line of sight, and the next thing she feels is his tongue lifting her nipple towards his lips, which spread open to suck as much of her breast inside his mouth as he can take.

For once, it's Alice who momentarily loses control, her pace quickening despite herself. Travis sucks hungrily at her breast, the only part of him daring to move, even if his limbs are trembling and his cock is twitching with every pulse of his racing heart.

"That's it... You like how that tastes?" He doesn't answer, but it doesn't matter; her words are more for her than they are for him, at this point. "Just imagine how they'll taste later, when they're swollen with milk. Oh, fuck, you're so_good_!"

She thrusts down hard, and his cock breaches her womb so deep that it hits the solid resistance of muscle at the far side of it.

Suddenly his mouth leaves her, his eyes flung wide open, staring blindly over her shoulder. "Alice, I--!"

The look on his face in that moment: his fear of impending failure, the pleasure overtaking him, his cock swelling and his balls drawing tight, the realisation dawning in his eyes that she hasn't told him to cum yet but he can't stop, he doesn't want to but_he can't stop_--

Alice is shouting and bucking through her release mere moments before she feels warmth spreading through her, and Travis brays--he actually_brays_--the sound of it raw and broken, seemingly entirely unintentional. The pulsing of his cock as it fills her with his cum amplifies every wave of her own orgasm to a pitch that has her making a truly embarrassing amount of noise in response as her muscles clench over and over, encouraging his cock to keep twitching long after it might have stopped on its own, and she is rewarded by the feel of her belly growing hard with the volume of his release.

Shaking, Alice rises up one final time to let his softening cock slip out of her. She collapses back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as her body warms through with a feeling of deep, tingling satisfaction.

"Fucking hell... I can't believe you did that."

Travis is gasping beside her for several long minutes. Eventually he sits up, his eyes dark and dazed, but shining with regret. "Alice, I'm... I'm so sorry. I really tried, but..."

"What? No, you did amazing," she says, stunned that after such an incredible performance he would think that he'd failed her in any way. "You held out. It was close, but you did it. Even I thought that would be impossible."

His brow relaxes, clearly relieved at her assessment. "As long as you think so, then, I'm glad. That was... certainly different."

Alice sits up on her elbows, curious. "How so?"

Someone on the other side of the room clears their throat. It takes Alice several seconds to remember that Veronica is there; that she'd watched the entire thing.

---

Veronica is standing, looking somewhat bashful. "I think... I'm going to go," she says, making a move towards the door.

Travis has leapt up off the bed before she even finished her sentence. "Are you sure?" he asks, standing--still naked, but unashamed--between her and the door. "It didn't make you feel awkward, did it? I had rather hoped it would have the opposite effect."

"It's just... not really what I..."

"Stay a while longer. Please?" Travis takes her hands, lifts them to his lips and kisses them. It would be a sweet gesture, she thinks, very gentlemanly, if his cock wasn't hanging heavy and wet between his thighs as he did it.

Something in the way Travis holds her gaze, with a renewed confidence that didn't exist there moments ago, has her nodding reluctantly. He gestures towards the bed for her to sit next to Alice, who gives her a sloppy, sated smile and a nod as she does.

"I've been a terrible host," Travis says, his voice full of apology as he crosses the room to an ornate wood and glass cabinet. "I offered drinks and then completely forgot to serve them!"

"I had other things on my mind," Alice says, grinning.

"You will still drink, won't you? You must be thirsty." He pours two fingers of an amber liquid into a pair of crystal glasses, before carrying them over and handing one glass to each of them. Alice takes hers gratefully and downs it in a single gulp, wincing slightly at the bite of it in the back of her throat.

Veronica sniffs hers delicately. Whiskey, a strong one. She takes a small sip to be polite, but doesn't drink the rest.

"I hope you don't mind waiting a few minutes," Travis says to her, and it takes her mind a few seconds to catch up to why.

Her fingers worry around the glass in her lap. It's not that she doesn't want to, but...

She lets her gaze wander the room, uncertain. They settle on the fireplace, its mantlepiece adorned with a variety of unusual objects: an abstract wooden carving, a small crystal figurine of a doe ballerina, a brightly-painted toy car, and a greetings card, its face a bloom of yellow lilies painted beneath the words 'Thank You!' in gold print.

Travis' eyes follow her line of sight, a slight smile tugging the corners of his lips. "Ah, those... I occasionally receive gifts. Some of the women I help are eager to express their gratitude. I keep everything they send; I don't have the heart to get rid of any of it."

There are more flowers in the room, too--real ones, though, not cards. A bouquet sits in a large vase on the floor by one of the sofas, and another decorates a corner table by the door.

"How many have you had?" Alice asks. "Or is that a rude question?"

Travis lifts his shoulder. "It's not rude. But to be honest, I don't keep count. Every woman is a unique experience. Each special in their own way... Reducing them to a mere number feels... wrong, somehow."

"How do you do this?" Veronica asks, unable to hold the question back any longer. "Without anyone... reporting you?"

There's a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Shall I tell you?" he asks. "I'm not sure if I should."

"If you don't tell us, I'm not coming back," Alice says, her tone mock-threatening. "And if you want to taste for yourself that difference I mentioned earlier..."

Travis holds her gaze, all his careful control back in place, but he can't hide the twitch of interest in his lap. "Alright, then," he says at last. "I'm not actually a rich man. I didn't inherit my money, nor did I really earn it. Not in a traditional sense, at least. And no, before you guess it, I am neither a thief, conman, or anything of the sort."

"Like all males, at the age of twenty I was tested, and they determined I was fertile enough to be moved into one of the Breeding Houses. But I valued my freedom far too much to subject myself to a life of servitude, even one that promised to be full of pleasure and comfort. I just..." His eyes unfocus for a moment. "Of course I wanted to do my duty as a male, but I didn't want to give up my life to do it."

"But it's law," Veronica says. "Maybe it's not the fairest law, but you can't just opt-out of the rules you don't like."

"Well, as it turns out, you can." His smile is coy. "You just have to know the right people. And if you don't know them, find out their address. Which, in the case of the Prime Minister, wasn't a difficult task. What was more difficult was climbing onto the roof without being seen by security, then slipping in through her open bedroom window."

Alice sits up in a rush of laughter and disbelief. "No fucking way! You seriously did that?"

Veronica stares at him in shock. "What happened then?"

"She was afraid, of course. Thought I had come to rob the place, or perhaps assassinate her. But I made her an offer, instead. One that, upon seeing what I had hidden beneath my clothing, she decided she could not refuse." Travis leans on the bed, looking decidedly pleased with himself. "Some months later, her pregnancy could no longer be hidden from the world. Her people found me living in a nearby motel. I'd been expecting them. They offered to give me anything I asked for in exchange for my silence."

"It wouldn't do for the leader of a country to be caught breaking her own laws, you see," he concludes. "And that is how I ended up here. I'm off the record, but by no means under the radar. They know all about me. But I have immunity, as do all of my customers."

All three sit quietly for several long minutes as Alice and Veronica absorb his captivating story.

Veronica is the first to break the silence. "So you just... seduced her? As brazen as that? You couldn't have known it would work out the way it did."

"True, I couldn't know the end result would be so favorable. But I knew what I was doing was blackmail, and that they would have to offer me_something_. Or simply kill me. Either way, I would be free of that life I so desperately did not want."

Veronica bites her lip. "So really, you are a man who... takes what he wants, aren't you? Because... The way you were, with Alice, it..."

"Ohh." His expression changes, his eyes sharpening. His smile morphs into something less jovial. "That's what has you worried." He plucks the glass out of her hands and sets it on the floor by the bed. "You should know me better. Don't you remember our conversation?"

Her cheeks grow hot. "I do." She shifts further back on the bed even as Travis leans forward and begins to crawl on all fours toward her, his heavy cock beginning to grow stiff as it drags over the silk sheets. "But I couldn't tell if it was real or not."

"I can assure you, it was," he replies, catching up to her as wrists bump against the line of pillows behind her. "As real as what you saw just now. I've been dying to see you, Veronica."

"Y-You have?"

"Yes. To do all those things we talked about. Veronica?"

"Yes?"

"You're wearing entirely too many clothes."

Her eyes fly down to her blouse. "Oh..."

"Allow me."

Suddenly her vision is full of him as he crowds over her, his hands unbuttoning her top carefully. He pushes the material aside and finds his hands full of her breasts, straining as they are beneath the hold of her bra.

"I enjoy pleasing women," he explains softly. "I seem to have an innate knack for knowing what they want. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than being whatever is required of me, fulfilling whatever fantasy they hold dearest. I can be submissive and compliant. Or, for someone like you..." He licks his lips, a look of unmistakable hunger clouding his eyes, before sliding his palms down the sides of her body, over her ribs and abs. "Very much the opposite."

His fingers find the hem of her skirt and slide around to the zipper on the side, pulling it down in one long, slow motion.

"You've been thinking about it too, haven't you?" he continues, his voice rich as black tea. Her fur prickles at the sound of it. "You couldn't help yourself. You're just beginning your heat." His face dips low then, his muzzle pressing into the space beneath her jawline, and he draws a deep, indulgent breath. "Ohh, I can smell it. That heady sweetness, oozing from every pore."

Her breath hitches. She doesn't know how he can do that: bring her such pleasure with only the use of his voice.

"In fact, I bet talking to me sped it on a bit, didn't it? Your body couldn't wait any longer. God, Veronica, you smell_incredible_."

"I d-do?" she stammers. His arms are reaching around her, freeing the clasp of her bra, but she barely registers it. Her own senses are suddenly full of the deeply masculine scent of him, the unmistakable reaction of his own body in the presence of a female in heat. His fur, his skin must taste of it, but she knows most of it will be concentrated far lower, down amongst and beneath the soft curling hair between his legs.

She gives an involuntary shudder at the thought of tasting him there.

His cock is almost fully hard again by now, no longer dragging behind him but raised against his belly, the tip of it a short distance from his face, smooth and glistening. Her eyes are drawn to it magnetically, and for a long moment all she can do is look between it and his moistened lips, telling herself there's no way he hasn't tried--even once, even as an experiment...

Travis is watching her, one eyebrow raised, and he seems to read her thoughts as if they were written in bold across her face. Without breaking eye contact, he dips his head low, his tongue lolling out--Oh my god, even his tongue is huge--and laps long and slow over his own dark flesh, his eyes fluttering closed as he does so.

Veronica whimpers, distinctly aware of the growing wetness between her thighs.

"You want to taste it, too, don't you?" Travis asks, his eyes opening again to look at her.

She can't voice her reply. All she can do is lean forward, her heart pounding in her ears, to press her open mouth against the head of his cock.

She hears him sigh contentedly, the sound encouraging her to open her mouth wider and envelope his glans between lips and tongue, sucking gently as she does. Travis seethes in pleasure, his cock rewarding her with a warm spill of liquid. The taste of it sends tingles of electricity buzzing through her limbs, into her fingers and toes, pooling between her legs, charged pulses of dark potential.

"Incredible," he whispers, and her chest flutters with pride at the compliment. "Turn over now. There's someplace I want to be."

She's too aroused to do anything but mutely comply, wondering for a brief moment what he meant by 'someplace'. Is he leaving? Now? The thought makes her heart skip with anxiety. No, he can't leave! Not while she's like this, the taste of him lingering on her tongue, making her tremble with arousal. He was right: her heat, it's begun. She can feel it cloying beneath her skin, its urgency building by the minute. There's no stopping it now: soon she's going to be a quivering, dripping mess of need, embarrassing herself, ruining his pretty sheets.

She'll have to be carried out of his bedroom in a wheelbarrow if he doesn't fuck her silly today; she won't be able to think, let alone walk out of here under her own steam.

She waits for what feels like a tortured eternity on hands and knees, tail lifted, fully aware of her ass and supremely wet cunt on full display. She doesn't care how debauched she looks. For a terrifying moment, she wonders if he has left: his scent lingers in the air, but it's no longer anywhere close by.

But then she feels his hands on her ass, squeezing, pulling her cheeks apart. She's just about to ask what he intends to do before she feels a warm gust of air, an exhalation of breath millimeters from her puffy skin.

"This is my favourite taste in the world," his voice rumbles, before his soft tongue flattens against her, obscene and wet and possessive, and starts lapping long and slow, from the swollen nub of her clitoris all the way up, across and over her leaking sex, to swirl once, playfully, around the puckered hole of her ass.

Her arms give way, her front half collapsing against the bed in a litany of curses. He does it again, groaning deep in satisfaction as he does. When his tongue resets for the third time, it lingers at her clitoris, swirling around it for a moment, before he seals his lips around it and begins suckling on it like a nipple.

Veronica cries out in pleasure, her spine arching. The shock of it, the intense friction precisely where she needed it most has brought her suddenly right to the edge of an orgasm she hadn't even known was building. She's so surprised by it that when she tries to warn him, she finds her voice won't cooperate. She can't tell him to stop, and he's not going to without a signal.

He starts sucking even harder, flicking his tongue back and forth quickly as he does, and she cums so hard her legs give out under her.

If it wasn't for the fact that his lips and tongue are now lapping hungrily, urgently at her sex, she's sure his face would be getting indecorously coated in her release. His breath is a hot mist against her skin as he licks away the last few, hard clenches of her orgasm, and it's only when his face pulls back and her skin feels the shock of cool air that she realises he's been holding her hips up the entire time, stopping her from collapsing entirely.

Her mind is swimming, her cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to do that. She wanted to warn him, but she couldn't, and now he's probably furious at her. How could she be so_stupid_? Her muscles sing with continual ripples of pleasure, her arousal still thrumming low and steady in her veins. She screws her eyes shut against it, pathetic apologies hovering at her lips. She couldn't bear to be told to leave, not now. Please, don't...

"Well then, shall we get started?" Travis asks.

There's a hint of wry amusement in his voice, but before she can say anything in response, she feels the thick, flat head of his cock press bluntly against her.

It's as if she hadn't just had one of the best orgasms of her life, her body is already quivering again with need. Her mouth drops open as he pushes inside her, unhurried but not slow, trusting (or at the very least, expecting) her body to accommodate him without argument. His girth stretches her wide and he sinks gloriously deep, so deep she can feel the line of him forming a hard ridge along her stomach. But her body takes him all, gripping firm and slick around the full, throbbing intrusion of him.

"Fuck," Travis whispers, so quiet above her that she thinks she wasn't meant to hear it at all. He shuffles closer on his knees and she feels his body curve over her, a line of softness and heat along her back. "Look at you, greedy little thing," he says to her. "You want more, don't you?"

She can't help herself. "Yes," she gasps, pressing her hips back against him. "I need it..."

"So greedy," he says again, his voice dripping like dark chocolate. "Oh, I can't wait to feel it, that moment your muscles start to clench of their own accord, drinking deep the bitter flood I'm about to fill you with."

Her muzzle is half-wedged against one of the soft velvet pillows, her arms folded over it, clinging to it like a life preserver in the ocean. Travis sets a slow pace, dragging his cock almost completely out of her in between every full, hard thrust. It sounds so absurdly wet, but between the tight grip of her body and the generous thickness of his cock, they manage to lose next to no friction: it still pulls at her as if his cock is anchored to her internal organs, each slow retreat an attempt to turn her inside-out before it plunges back in, rocking her hard into the pillow.

"Are you going to cum again?" Travis asks, and she wasn't, not until he said it, but it's like he has direct control over her body. She gasps, feeling all the white heat of her arousal suddenly concentrating low and hot at the place where their bodies are joined.

"I-I think I might," she manages. "Oh my god..."

He gives her two more solid thrusts and then bottoms out, stilling against her. But where she had expected to feel a rush of heat and hear him moaning her name, there is only the steady pulse of his heartbeat at her back, his cock lodged hard as marble inside her.

"Then do it," his voice purrs at her ear. "Come for me. I'm not moving again until you do."

Veronica's mind grinds to a halt in panic. How? How does he expect...? But,oh God, she's so unbearably close already. His breath is hot and lurid against her neck, his arms tightening possessively around her waist, his hips wedged so hard against her ass that he must be partially buried between her cheeks, almost swallowed up by them as sure as his cock is being swallowed up by her trembling cunt.

It is that image that has her making a series of increasingly tense yelping sounds, her orgasm crawling forth at a glacial speed, and the slowness of it only seems to amplify its power tenfold. She bites into the pillow to muffle her shout as she starts to cum, each powerful wave cresting over her with the strength of an earthquake. Her muscles work at Travis' cock exactly as he'd described, yet he still hasn't cum himself. He remains perfectly still, tense as wire, while she rides out the rest of her inexplicable climax that he seemed to conjure out of thin air.

There's a release of breath--hers or his, she isn't sure--and then he's thrusting against her again, fast, hips slapping against hips with new energy. Veronica's mind is a grey fog of pleasure, her heat well and truly present, her body already craving more. He could make her cum a hundred times in a row, but the churning, itching, restless arousal in her veins won't be quieted, not until she feels his seed in her, not until she feels saturated by it, smells it in the back of her nose, tastes it in her throat.

Travis takes a moment to reposition himself, one hand on her shoulder, the other gripping the back of her neck, pressing her down into the mattress so that she has to turn her head to breathe. Then he's fucking her again, harder than before, the adjusted angle letting his cock find the small center of pleasure hidden inside her. Now every thrust rubs against it, making her thighs jump and her hips twitch uncontrollably, but he has her pinned so well that she couldn't squirm away from the direct stimulation even if she wanted to.

She's going to cum again--so soon, she can't believe it! They're happening closer together every time. But Travis has found his rhythm now, and it seems like he might be getting close, too. He hasn't said anything in a while, and she can picture his face, full of concentration as he stares down at her, her breasts squashed awkwardly against the mattress, her ass swallowing his hips as he pounds into her.

"Are you ready to be filled up?" he asks, his voice straining with effort.

Her words escape around a series of high whimpers. "Y-Yes... Please...!"

His reply is a redoubling of speed, a tightening of his fingers around her neck. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream as her cunt starts to clench again, and this time,this time, as her body pulses around him, Travis shouts loudly and bucks his hips, his cock shooting thick streams of hot cum inside her. Veronica's over-sated muscles milk his cock in a frenzy as her heat-addled body finally detects the presence of his answer, and they don't stop their hard, rhythmic squeezing until long after Travis has already collapsed over her, twitching and moaning from the relentless stimulation of his cock.

When Veronica looks down at herself, she can see the way her stomach stays bloated, even after his cock has finally softened and slipped out.

Travis, understandably, needs a bit longer than usual to recover. But even after Alice gathers her clothes and says her goodbyes, Veronica remains. Her heat is far from over: it won't be for many hours yet, and Travis is the only one who can help her through it. He does so gladly, alternating between polite, well-spoken host and hardened, domineering mate, as many times as she needs.

She eventually leaves in the early hours of the next morning, exhausted, but happier (and heavier) than she's ever felt in her life.

---

EPILOGUE

The weather has turned cool. The sky is desaturated and overcast, but this doesn't stop Alice meeting her friend at their usual table outside the coffee shop in the hills. She barely feels the chill, anyway. Lately her body radiates a warmth all its own, leaving her glad for the cold snap of wind that rustles the yellowing leaves of the nearby trees.

Veronica looks up from her coffee cup and smiles at her as she sits. "How's it going?"

"Great," Alice replies. "How's the decorating going?"

"Oh, you know. A little difficult like this"--she pats her large, pregnant belly meaningfully--"but the nursery's almost done. I painted little rainbows and things on the walls."

"Aww. You always had an artsy streak. I bet yours will all be little artists. There won't be a spec of fridge door visible under all the crayon drawings pinned to it." Veronica laughs at that, and she can't help but join in.

"Yours will be big into sports I think," Veronica says. "You won't miss a single school track & field day, or marathon, or baseball game--"

"Hi, guys!"

They both glance over to see a mutual friend, Sandrea, working her way between the tables towards them. The dingo beams at them adoringly. "Look at you two, all plump, ready to burst!"

"Not quite yet," Alice replies, grinning. Though she does feel that way, sometimes. Her breasts, which were already huge before, have swollen to twice the size since, and her heavily pregnant belly is even larger still. "Still got a few months to go."

"Wow." Sandrea can't keep the envy out of her voice. "You guys are so lucky. I'm on the list, but..." Her eyes sink to her lap, the happiness in them draining. "It'll be years for me yet."

Alice glances meaningfully at Veronica. Her friend catches her meaning and winks back. They've been waiting for this opportunity--it's the reason they invited Sandrea here this morning.

"Actually, Sandrea," Veronica says, affecting a casual tone and reaching into her handbag. She pulls out a small, black business card and holds it out to her between two fingers. "There might be a way we can help with that."