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Campaigns were always exciting, but Minerva Firmer was dutifully hiding her nerves. Hannah Price had been the Dalmatian's long-time friend, despite their differences, making Minerva the perfect driver for Hannah's Congressional run.

Except for the most important thing - Minerva didn't want her best friend to win.

It was more than the fact that the American Water Spaniel would have to move to D.C. If that were it, there'd be no problem. Hannah was running as a conservative, the first major difference between the two. Somehow, school-age camaraderie had allowed their relationship to persist despite the growing polarization in the United States. But that didn't mean that Minerva could overlook her friend's policy platform.

Hannah was trying to thread the needle in a gerrymandered district that gave rural farmers just enough sway to almost always elect two-legged republicans, while suppressing the votes of the more liberal ferals in the city. She hoped to win most of the conservatives with her policies, and push herself over the line by being the first feral to run for office. She really expected four-leggers to vote for her just because of the number of her feet, even against their own interests.

Hannah promised to vote for the public decency laws that would require all four-legged citizens to wear clothes that sufficiently covered their rumps and bumps, all but forcing 35% of the district to live with or hire a two-legger to help them get dressed in the morning. This was red meat for the republican voters who felt like personal freedoms were less important than their right to not be offended by a little nudity. Between tails and fur, most ferals were already fairly well covered up.

The Water Spaniel also pledged to vote against the Four-leggers Equal Access Amendment, which would require all businesses to comply with basic access issues like paw-friendly door latches, eye-level signage, and feral-compatible bathrooms. Minerva knew that her friend actually wanted the amendment to pass, but she wanted to look tough on regulations and in favor of small business.

But the last strike was the Janville Bus Lobby. To get their support, Hannah had flip-flopped on her intended vote in favor of repealing the law against four-leggers driving. There was a long, racist history preventing all ferals from getting a driver's license, despite advances in modern cars that saw four-leggers driving in most major cities. In fact, her husband Bill (also a feral Water Spaniel) had been driving for years. But the buses made a fortune charging ferals for trips everywhere throughout the city. Hannah sold her integrity for a newspaper endorsement.

Minerva was waiting in the car, ready to travel with Hannah to her next campaign stop, while she and her strategists planned their next egregious violation of feral rights. Though Minerva had two legs, she'd been raised to love and respect everyone regardless of their background. Perhaps that was how the two girls had managed to strike up a long and strong friendship. But now there was a cloud over the Dalmatian's head and she tapped the steering wheel, preparing to betray Hannah Price and end the American Water Spaniel's high-profile run for office.

Her friend hopped into the back of the limousine, still talking with her campaign manager, Andrew Dearborn. Hannah used to always address Minerva when she got in, but now the Dalmatian felt more like a servant. She poured a glass of red wine and offered it to Andrew, and then grabbed a wide bowl of wine to offer to Hannah. This was all part of the plan that would probably destroy her friendship, even if she could make Hannah believe it was an honest mistake.

As the driver took off to Benchwood Beach resort, Andrew and Hannah talked shop. They were so close, Minerva had to wonder if Hannah and the American Foxhound were...tied at the hips literally as well as figuratively. Hannah had married Bill for political expediency, because people still looked down on mixed-leg marriages. Her conservative party would never have had her married to a two-legger! Minerva watched carefully for the right moment, and as they were driving by the local pool, she leaned forward with the bowl of red wine and fumbled it. Dark red liquid splashed all over the Water Spaniel's clothes and fur, drenching and staining her.

"Shit! Shit! Sorry!" Minerva grimaced.

Hannah yelped. "What is this!? I have a speech in twenty minutes!"

"The limo bounced," the Dalmatian exclaimed, lamely.

Andrew gasped. "We don't have time to assign blame. We've got to get you cleaned up."

Minerva was quick to suggest the pool. "There'll be showers at the public pool. We could wash you up there."

Hannah growled. "What about my clothes? I can't do a speech naked!"

Minerva flicked an ear, wishing Hannah realized that she could. It was still legal, despite Hannah's best efforts to curtail the freedom and rights of her fellow feral. Andrew picked up his cell phone. "I'll call in for replacements. In the meantime, let's get you cleaned up. Minerva?"

The Dalmatian nodded, and rushed out the limo beside her friend. It wasn't too late to back out. She could tell Nick and Jimmy that the plan was off and there wasn't a thing they could do about it. But no, she knew what had to be done. While one of Hannah's bodyguards explained the situation to the pool attendant, the two friends scampered into the public showers. There was a private booth just for ferals that they entered together. It was Minerva's job to remove her clothes and redress her.

"I'm so sorry," Minerva said again, but it wasn't about spilling the drink.

Hannah gasped, "Don't just stand there stammering, girl. Get me out of these clothes so I can wash up!"

Ears flat, the Dalmatian worked to remove the elaborate get up that Hannah always wore to campaign events. She started by unbuttoning the backside of her blouse, letting it fall to the ground, then pulling off the undershirt that covered her belly. She was wearing a skirt, and beneath that, fluffy pantaloons that went all the way to the paws. The small spaniel was wearing almost more clothes than Minerva herself. After she pulled down those two, there was the diaper to contend with, stained red but not with wine. Only then did Hannah step out, naked, toward the shower.

"I'll be back with the new set of clothes," Minerva lied, leaving Hannah to it.

She waited outside the shower for long enough that Andrew would believe Hannah was all washed up and redressed, maybe fifteen minutes, then walked with the soiled clothes to the second limo in the caravan. This was her best bet to get away with the ruse. Hopping in the back with Hannah's second-tier advisors, Minerva said, "Andrew's gotten her dressed and ready. Let's go."

Confused, one aid asked, "Shouldn't you be up there with her?"

Minerva shook her head. "I don't think she wants to see me right now, after what I did. Just call up to the front car and tell them we're all set to go." She trembled, ears perked to hear the next communication. Would Andrew take the bait? Would he unknowingly leave his candidate naked and alone in a public bathroom? Both cars needed to believe that Hannah was in the other car.

"Roger that," the front driver replied, and like that they were off, leaving Hannah Price to her fate. Minerva closed her eyes and bit her lip. I did what I had to do.

* * * * *

"Minerva? Are you back yet?" Hannah huffed, drying herself on the feral towel rack. What a bother when you had curly, brown fur to deal with. The door to the shower remained closed and silent, no voice from the other side.

Minerva meant well, but you get what you pay for. Her best friend since elementary school had always been a bit of a clutz, and Hannah should have realized she might spill the wine. She was going to be late to her stump speech already, and every second that ticked by was another second she would have to apologize for.

"Andrew?" she tried, hoping he'd return with her new clothes.

The American Water Spaniel grinded her claws into the tile floor, frustrated. If Minerva had bothered to leave her clothes in the room, she might well have tried to dress herself, as long and arduous as that process was with no hands. She grimaced as the clock ticked by in her head, until there was no helping it. She had to open the door and check on her security detail. Luckily, this public pool was one place that had gone ahead and installed feral-friendly door latches. She would just open it far enough to retrieve her clothes, or find out what was happening.

When the metal door swung open, though, there was no pile of fresh clothes. No pile of stained clothes. No security detail. What there was was the sound of children echoing down the tile walls as the pool opened for business. They weren't here yet, but soon enough - the public, and here she was with no clothes!

She almost just retreated back into the shower and locked the door, ready to wait until her campaign entourage returned. They _were_coming back, weren't they? She ventured further from the door, and called, "Minerva? Andrew?"

She thought she had time to retreat to the feral shower, but it all happened so quickly. The voices were practically in her long, curly ears when she jumped and watched two friendly four-legged girls run into the shower together, closing the door with a loud click, as the lock engaged. Hannah gulped, her safe space gone, even as more voices came from the entrance.

She couldn't let people see her like this! What if they recognized her? She was running on a platform of mandatory clothes - even swimsuits, yet here she was at the pool, without even a diaper to hide her seasonal shame. The pool was just opening, so it must be mostly empty - perhaps Minerva was waiting out there? The Dalmatian could lend her some clothes or at least wrap her in a towel or something.

Holding her breath, Hannah ran for the bathroom exit, entering the swimming pool area. It was still empty - but empty of Minerva as well. "Where are they?" she said to herself. A thin, chain link fence separated the pool area from the main road, though the tile did fade into sand and extend to the beach for those who wanted to swim in the ocean.

The voices rang out behind her, now, children and adults getting ready for a fun time at the pool. Hannah glanced around for some respite - any respite. Should she run for the ocean? Jump in the pool? Where could she hide? Then she saw the side of the building - she'd have to run around a low wall, but she could hide beside the building until her handlers realized their mistake!

She made it around just in time, before the people exited the shower area. Two-legged children ran and jumped in the pool as the lifeguard got situated on a nearby tower, while two sets of parents walked over to the pool chairs. Hannah could pick out more people coming, as it was going to be a busy weekend. Panting, she was grateful no one could see her, even though she found herself in the midst of smelly dumpsters.

Oh no...

There was a feral here, too. But a feral feral. The yellow-brown mutt was scrounging in the trash when she came around the corner and planted her four feet. Please be female, she chanted in her head.

But he wasn't. The dog was slightly bigger than she was, and as soon as he saw her, his ears perked up. And he started to sniff. It was hard enough being a four-legger in a world run by two, but she also had to deal with the animal version of herself. These mindless dogs didn't realize that she was a person and that she wasn't interested in sniffing their butts, and they certainly didn't understand the concept of consent. Knowing she was in the midst of her heat, she backpedalled immediately.

Trapped between a mutt and a pool full of witnesses, Hannah froze. Maybe she was wrong about the mongrel. Maybe he was more hungry for food than 'company'? She shivered, refusing to risk being recognized. But the stray didn't stay. He trotted over to her, tail wagging.

She raised her hackles and growled, keeping her tail low, but none of these warnings got through his thick skull. He dropped down in a play posture and jumped around her, and she had to spin to keep him from getting his nose behind her. She wanted to yell for Minerva, for Andrew, for anyone, but then she'd be caught. Not only was the poolside filling up, the beach was as well. Tourists, vacationers, and locals were spilling out onto the sand to enjoy the waves. What had been quiet was now hopping.

Not satisfied, the mutt jumped on top of her. Since she'd been staying face to face with him, the confused dog mounted her head. Any hope that he hadn't noticed her heat was gone as she was soon face-to-sheath with the animal, trying to back up despite his paws around her elbows. She squirmed out of his grasp, but she knew there was no staying behind the building. She had to go back into sight and seek help. Running like the world was on fire, Hannah bolted away from the mutt, who followed her, yipping playfully.

"Look, mommy - two dogs!" said a kid putting on goggles at a poolside table.

The weathered black lab mother said, "Now you stay away from them - they might be rabid..."

"Awww," the kid whined.

Hannah decided that maybe she wouldn't ask this particular woman for help. How could she see Hannah's well-groomed, purebred fur and think she was a stray like the mangy creature on her tail? Yet all the pool-goers disregarded her as just another animal. They didn't recognize her as a person, much less a well-known politician. Perhaps this could work to my advantage. She ran on to the sand, her red-brown curly tail streaming behind her. The stray was hot on her heels, larger and faster than she was. Eyes peeled, Hannah looked for any building she might hide in - a bathroom? A beach-side bar? She just needed to be able to put a door between her and the feral.

There! A small brick building with a boys and girls bathroom sign. She took the time to figure out which door was for girls and darted that direction, running right up to the door and -

It didn't have a doggy handle. She'd never needed a push door so badly before - she'd always had Minerva or Andrew to open the doors for her. What did they expect four-leggers to do on this beach? Just take a dump right on the sand in front of everyone? Wait until some kindly two-legger happened by?

Yelping, Hannah didn't have more time to whine about the injustice of it all. She couldn't wait for someone to help her, and besides, all the beachgoers thought she was just a dog. There were no buildings in hundreds of feet, and the parking lot was surrounded by a low wall of stones. Low for some, but not for her. Panting, she darted back toward the pool, trying to dodge the pursuing male. He jumped left and she jumped right, evading him and digging her heels in the sand.

Thwamp!

Her foot slipped in the sand and she fell face first in the warm grains beneath her, mussing up her fur. The air knocked out of her, Hannah Price stayed down, shaking her head. Of course, the mutt was still there, cocking his head at her, a few feet away. He was sniffing again, but Hannah was sure if she should run or not. At least on her belly in the dirt, he couldn't grab her hips, but if she tried to run for it...

Soon, though, she wished she hadn't delayed. She was safe from an unwanted mounting, but there was nothing to stop the eager male from walking right up to her, nose first. Hannah glanced around, at least thirty people already on the beach, and 3 or 4 people watching the dogs specifically, mostly kids saying, "Aww, cute!" Her heart raced and she held her breath, realizing the show was about to get a lot more lewd unless she asked for help, in front of all these people. Maybe no one would recognize her? Not likely! Only the fact that they thought she was a dog was keeping her safe right now.

Hannah was sprawled out across the warm sand, front legs braced in front of her and hind legs stretched out behind her, which left her puffy, pink spade proudly protruding under her tail. Frantically, she growled at the stray dog, but as usual, he didn't take the hint. He followed his nose right to the source in front of everyone. Nudging her tail out of the way, the dirty mutt snuffled her privates. Well, they weren't private anymore!

"Mommy, what's the dog doing?"

The mom in question gasped and covered her kid's eyes, shuffling the little girl toward the beach without another word.

Another kid pointed and said to his younger brother, "Look, he's sniffing his butt!"

But it wasn't 'his' butt the dog was sniffing. Her triangular mound was splayed out and open for the inquisitive male, his cold, wet nose making Hannah yip. She had to hold back a curse. The only way out of this was to keep everyone thinking she was just a stray like him. While most beachgoers had the common decency to go on about their business, a few eyes did linger.

And then the tongue.

The American Water Spaniel shivered as sniffs turned suddenly to licks, her sensitive, heat-swollen pussy spreading wide for his thick, warm tongue. Running around without clothes wasn't new to Hannah, she'd done it plenty of times as a kid. But this_was different. Her face was burning, ears flat as she lay there, frozen, unsure what to do. She was out, _in public, getting lapped by a perverted street mutt. The damage to her career if anyone found out was growing by the lick - she couldn't exactly explain why she was letting him do this instead of crying out for help, now!

Her eyes scanned the crowd, hoping for a moment when her audience had grown disinterested, but as three people left, four more arrived, and everyone could spare a few seconds to giggle at the feral foreplay going on. The male didn't pause for even a second, plunging his tongue deep, curling it up, and slurping back up as he explored the married bitch. Whining, Hannah found herself putting both paws on her nose instinctively.

*Click*

A camera!? Hannah glanced back to see a young man, maybe in his twenties, snapping pictures and laughing. "Look, she's embarrassed. She thinks she's people!" the Pitbull laughed. "This is gonna make a great meme."

Immediately Hannah put her paws back into the sand, though that just made her face the more visible for his pictures. _This is baaad,_she knew. It wouldn't take long for a viral meme like this to make someone wonder "is that Hannah Price?"

It was time to move - maybe his pictures wouldn't turn out great. She couldn't stay here with that camera on her. Bunching up her legs beneath her, Hannah sprang forward with all her might, as suddenly as possible. But what she expected to catch the feral mutt off guard did nothing of the sort. He was too experienced for that and predicted her escape attempt! Pulling his tongue free a full second before she tried to run for it, he jumped forward and tucked his powerful paws around her reddish-brown hips. She collided upward into him, stopping suddenly, now perched on all fours in the sand with the bigger male grinning and mounted.

Hannah almost yelled, but stopped herself in time to turn it into a yip and growl, her heart racing. She tried to find purchase in the soft sand, but her paws sank down instead of propelling her forward. He was holding her too tight, his hips already pumping. No, no, no! She glanced back and beneath her, eyes widening to see the dog's shiny red cock, his large balls just out of focus in the back. Of course he wasn't neutered!

The Pitbull was affecting his wide, Pitbull grin, holding up the phone. There were no clicks now - he must have switched to_record_. She could end this all with one word. She just had to ask for help and this asshole Pitbull or the nearby beachgoers would rescue her. But there'd be questions, and a lot of them. And video of the exact moment she'd finally asked for help. Her career was over one way or another. There was no way out...

Except one.

She could let him do it. There was no hope of a discreet rescue by Minerva or Andrew - even if they returned to the pool to look for her they wouldn't find her way out on the beach in time. She just had to convince everyone here that she was just a stray bitch on the beach, doing what a bitch in heat does. There'd have to be no more stupid reactions like her paws on her face - she'd have to give herself over to the mutt completely, offer herself willingly to him and let him have his way with her. Then, when he was done with her, she could beat a subtle retreat and pray that nothing this amateur photographer had gotten would catch on. She'd at least have plausible deniability if she acted exactly like a mindless dog.

The time to decide was now, she realized, whimpering as she kept her tail tucked between her legs, the greasy red tip poking back and forth beneath her as it sought her nearly virgin pussy. She'd only consummated her wedding once. Bill Price (formerly Bill Hanley) was a picture perfect Water Spaniel, but not anyone she really cared about. He knew it, too, but she'd still given him a chance on their honeymoon. Three dozen awkward thrusts and she managed to get her husband off, though she'd found the entire affair quite unpleasant. There were rumors on the internet that she had a thing for Andrew, and - well, that was certainly more true. But she'd never dared try to pursue a relationship with her campaign manager.

No, what really mattered to her was getting elected and doing what she could for the feral community, even if that meant violating some of her principles along the way. She was on the verge of becoming the first four-legger elected to congress in the entire state, where she could bring her missing perspective to a legislative body that was 95% two-legged. Sure, she'd promised the Janville Bus Lobby some nice words, but she'd figure out an excuse to back out once elected. That was the price of politics.

Hannah was about to pay a very different price, and one that hurt to contemplate almost as much as the bus lobby. Gritting her teeth, the purebred bitch closed her eyes, raised her ears, and lifted her tail for the mutt on her back, trying to act completely normal about it. But in her head, she was frozen and afraid, about to offer her second time not to her husband, but to a strange animal on the beach, in front of everyone, deep in her heat. She knew that there would be nothing stopping this dog from getting her pregnant, then and there, leaving her with an oversized litter of mindless mutts, but she'd have won the primary and made it almost through the general election before she'd start to show. With the right clothing she might be able to cover it up for the three months and no one would be the wiser.

It was a great plan - except for what it meant then, in the moment. Hannah shivered as she pulled her curly tail away, leaving her quivering cunny just inches from the horny mutt's fat cock. Holding her breath, she spread her back legs and hiked her rump up to the larger dog, eternity passing in her head as she waited for the inevitable. A spade, once offered, would soon be taken. She braced herself for the sharp pain she'd felt coiled up with Bill, her claws digging into the sand.

"That's it, girl, let him have it," the Pitbull grinned, kneeling in front of her with the camera raised to catch her expression the moment the mutt finally entered her. She had to resist the urge to call him a pervert, his sadistic grin distracting her from the moment she'd been waiting for. When it finally came, she opened her eyes wide and yipped.

With a heavy thrust, the stray dog finally hit home with one of his errant thrusts, and suddenly she was stuffed with half of his doggie dick. Her held breath erupted into a gasp that sent her jaw gaping open, tongue dangling down and eyes round circles with dots for pupils. If she was trying to avoid becoming meme-worthy, she was off to an awful start!

With Bill, they'd been lying on their sides, face to face in the expansive covers on their queen-sized bed. This was completely different. Her rump dangled in the air and the mutt plowed into her, tugging and holding her firmly in place as he dominated her. There was no pain - this time she was in heat, and she'd already lost her cherry, so her swollen fortune cookie spread out easily around the dog's massive girth, giving way with each rapid follow-up thrust.

"Unh! Unh!! Unnggh!" she grunted, as he worked his way all the way in without so much as a friendly lick on the cheek. Hannah trembled, her tongue panting now. He was larger than her husband, too, hilted inside of her and filling her up in a way that she hadn't known she could be filled. But he didn't stop there, only humping harder once he was securely docked.

"Woah, cool!" a boy said, getting out his own cell phone.

"Put that away," his dad snapped, reaching for the device.

"Oh come on, he's recording it," the boy protested, pointing as the Pitbull started to take a walk around the two dogs, taping every crisp detail.

Their mom chimed in and said, "The boy's curious, Harold. What's the harm? It's the miracle of life, you know."

Harold rolled his eyes, but left with his wife, leaving his son there to film the two dogs fucking in the sand. Hannah tried to ignore the growing audience, but it was hard not to notice people in the parking lot watching in bemused surprise, or passersby each taking a different number of minutes to watch with voyeuristic pleasure.

"What's he doing to her," a young kid asked, tugging her mom's sleeve.

"Oh, uh...," she stammered, and said, "They're wrestling."

If they were wrestling it was pretty clear which one of them was pinned. The curly, brown Water Spaniel was all but tied at the hip to the grinding yellow-brown mutt, panting so fast in the heat now that she was starting to drool. But the air pushed across her broad tongue really helped to cool her off. Hannah hadn't realized how hot she'd been feeling for the last week. Blushing madly at all the attention she was getting Hannah had to really concentrate on just being a dog. There was nothing to see here, just nature taking its course.

Still, it was getting easier and easier to forget it all, and she didn't even think about the Pitbull standing just behind the two of them when she started to shiver and hump her own hips back up against the mutt, sliding her slick tunnel up and down that big, red, _growing_cock. Whines turned to moans, her tunnel growing wetter by the thrust, squeezing and clenching down around the male's thick semen syringe. She knew exactly what it meant that he was grinding up against her cervix, rapidly swelling just inside her stretching cunny. He was going to breed her, the feral beast completely uncaring about what a bunch of dumb dogs would do to her career. But for once, she didn't have to pretend to ignore it all to act like a bitch in heat. She was bucking up and down just as fast as he was now, squeezing down harder and harder until she could feel it - the slick suction that would keep his bulging knot sealed deep inside her.

"Jesus," said the camera dog, his phone hovered just beneath the mutt's swinging balls. He had a nice close up of her spade swelling out bigger than ever before, quivering and squeezing and massaging that deep red dog dick. The mutt was just wagging and groaning, his claws digging into her hips. She didn't really notice the sharp pokes. She was shuddering and drooling in the sand, her tail spread to the side, pleasure unlike she'd ever felt before building up and wracking her body. Why hadn't Bill had the same effect? Was she just a crude doggy slut? Now that he was tied, his entire girth rubbed and squished against every inch of her trembling tunnel, but that had nothing on his knot, perfectly positioned to throb firmly against her little clit. "I think she likes you."

It all happened so fast. The two dogs struggled and strained against each other, but Hannah couldn't hold in her first convulsing orgasm. Dropping her jaw and howling, she gushed around the male, swivelling her hips in sharp little circles that had him yipping for sheer joy. She was being filmed now from the side and back, a good view of her lewd bulge and blissful grin as the dirty bitch gave herself entirely to the stray dog. Three other cameras were on her now, but her eyes were rolled back in her head, clenching down hard around the suddenly splurting dog cock.

He didn't delay, howling as well and releasing his pent up balls. Steady, throbbing gushes of cum splattered down her tunnel, splashing against her cervix. She was ready and her body was prepped, the floodgates opening and letting him wash her womb in seed. Bred on camera, she thought, moaning incoherently as she was filled with mindless, feral mutts. Why did it feel so good to quiver and buck underneath this dumb dog that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer? What was she going to tell her husband!?

The male didn't howl, he just grunted and groaned, clenching his balls and giving short, sharp thrusts. Did he care that she was married? That she was sentient? No, to him she was just a cunt to fuck, and he was doing admirably.

"That's somethin' you don't see every day," a passerby laughed, snapping a pic. But it was still the Pitbull being the most invasive. Whining and groaning, Hannah glanced to the side to see the man kneeling beside her, his camera getting an obscene close-up of her bulging spade clearly pulsing with each splurt. She would've bit him if she weren't too busy shuddering. He backed up the camera a bit when the yellow-brown mutt finally gave her a little lick on the side of the face and flipped around, his knot straining at her swollen tie. His wagging tail sent warm, summer air across her curly-haired back, leaving Hannah warm and panting.

They stayed this way for almost four minutes before the camera-man seemed satisfied, looking at his watch. And all the while, the feral mutt kept using her like the bitch in heat that she was. But before the Pitbull left, he lined the camera up with her face, and said, "Say cheese, Hannah!"

Blood drained from her face. He knew? Her ears flattened and her eyes widened, mouth agape, before she realized that was the _worst_possible reaction. In seconds, she saw the Pitbull gasp and say, "Oh my God, it's really her...! Hannah Price!"

Now she'd done it. Her expression told it all, close up on camera. Still rump-to-rump, it wasn't just the Pitbull. All around her, she was drowned in loud clicks and bright flashes. They all knew it was her - really her. Laughter, disbelief and pointing fingers was all she could see.

There was no way to run, and nowhere to hide. Her life was over.

* * * * *

Hannah nuzzled her husband and groaned again. They hadn't dared go to a hospital, with all the paparazzi interested in her due date. No, she was lying in a whelping box on the side of the floor, surrounded by what remained of her campaign staff. Andrew was the only one she wanted nearby, waiting on her as he always had. She'd actually grown even closer to her campaign manager after she ended her run.

When Andrew had finally returned to the pool with the car, it was far too late. Hannah limped over to the American Foxhound and just shook her head, hopping into the back of the car, still naked and dripping. There was nothing to be said.

And yet, she still had to go out there, day after day, to defend herself. She dropped out of the primary, of course, but the party demanded more from her. She'd tarnished conservatives forever, and set back four-legger rights decades, according to nasty comments from both sides of the aisle. And still she had to show up on talk shows, her husband at her side, standing by her in these difficult times.

She told the world she made no excuses for what happened, before making excuses - she explained that she'd been accidentally left at the pool and the dog had chased her. No, of course she hadn't wanted it (they made sure no interviewer ever asked why she moaned so much on the camera). The video echoed around the world - Hannah Price Sex Tape, but at least the mainstream media didn't show it. She explained to the world that she was going to have the puppies and put them up for adoption, and that she and her husband, Bill, were working through the challenge in their life.

And throughout it all, Andrew was at her side, advising her, driving her places, shopping for her. Without the election to worry about, Hannah finally couldn't hold back anymore, and gave in to her feelings for the white-black-and-tan hunting dog. Big belly notwithstanding, Hannah and Andrew found dozens of times and places to meet, breathily, in dark rooms.

Did Bill know? No. But he surely suspected. Even now, panting and exhausted from pushing, Hannah sent warm glances Andrew's way, her tail wagged for him. But Bill knew his place, and he stood by her side, ever the stoic, loyal trophy husband.

Nowhere to be seen as she grunted and pushed for the first reddish-yellow little puppy into the world was Minerva. Hannah couldn't exactly pin it all on her childhood friend, but there were issues with her story that day at the pool. How could she have believed Hannah was in the front car? The Dalmatian had been fired almost the next day, and she made no protest. The guilt had been plastered over her old friend's face.

"It's a boy!" Bill exclaimed, as if it were his son in the first place. As if it weren't a little dog and not a child at all. As if they weren't going to put these puppies up for adoption. The pup was cute though, a mix of purebred Water Spaniel and whatever that stray mutt had been. Andrew grabbed it, cut the umbilical cord, and started washing it, leaving Hannah to continue giving birth.

If she'd gotten away with it, she would be a member of congress already. Her primary opponent had won the general, of course, yet another conservative with two legs passing laws over four-leggers. Instead, she gritted her teeth and squeezed a sweet little girl out into the world.

When all was said and done, Hannah leaned back onto her side, four blind little puppies suckling away - two boys and two girls, all the same, rusty color. Hannah nuzzled her husband, wishing he were Andrew instead. But this was...fine. Her life was fine. With politics out of the way, she found herself strangely content. Maybe raising four little puppies would add some meaning to her life?

Until the sexual assault allegations started to pile up. Her primary opponent had done some awful, awful things, and the accusations were coming from within his own family. Then, his eldest daughter produced a video, proving it. The seat was vacated days after Hannah gave birth. And then...the strangest thing happened. Her poll numbers started going up, to fill the seat. Conservatives were starting to back her again! She downplayed rumors she'd run again, until Andrew's private polling came in. People bought her apology. They loved her refusal to abort the puppies.

Glancing from Bill to Andrew, she made her decision. "Let's do it."

* * * * *

Jason Nesmith watched Hannah's inauguration with a wide grin, like all his grins. His website had rocketed up in views after posting Hannah's sex tape, and he'd become infamous on the net. The man who exposed Hannah Price's hypocrisy! And yet there she was, getting sworn into congress.

He rang up his friend. "Josh, you watching this? Amazing, isn't it?"

The voice at the other end of line was not amused. "Jason, you're not supposed to call me. We don't want anything linking the two of us!"

The Pitbull just shrugged. "Relax, no one is tapping our phones. Everyone thinks I just happened to be in the right place and the right time. Well, except maybe that spotty bitch. Bet she's not too happy."

"Minerva paid us to humiliate Hannah, and that's what we did," Josh replied. "It's not our fault it ended up getting her elected. Who knew the sympathy vote was so strong?" Josh growled softly, considering hanging up on his 'friend'. He took another sip of coffee, glancing up at the T.V. where he also watched the American Water Spaniel in front of the Lieutenant Governor.

Jason said, "Humiliate is one thing. She didn't want her friend knocked up by a feral mutt!"

"Mistakes were made, Jason," Josh admitted. He stared up at Hannah on the screen. Not a bad looking bitch at all. He continued, "I didn't expect her to just...give in, like that. I wasn't gonna give myself away by not humping her. You _could_have pulled me off of her, you know!"

"I thought this was your plan! You sure as hell seemed to be enjoying yourself!"

This time, Josh did hang up. Jason wasn't wrong - pumping that tight, atrocious little bitch full of puppies had been quite the rush, and Hannah's wet little pussy had squeezed down on him like a vice as she came for him. No doubt about it, that needy little slut had been begging for it. But he was appalled that she'd managed to get elected, and soon enough he was going to have to start wearing clothes all the time. What a crock of shit!

When he'd tied her, he'd never in a million years thought she'd actually give birth to the puppies. She thought they were mindless ferals, after all! But give birth she did, and the Evangelicals loved it. Once she started running for the empty seat, she'd given them up for adoption, making sure that they were given out to good homes who knew nothing of where the mutts came from.

Josh shook his head at the absurdity of it. He was a dad now, and four little puppies were out at four thoughtful, loving families.

But what were they gonna do when those families finally realized the pups weren't so mindless after all?