FSE

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{All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.}

I

Her orgasmic cries filled the cavernous hangar, and likely carried onto the airstrip outside too. Even with the hum of recon drones overhead and transport craft coming and going, the sheepdogs milling around outside could no doubt hear the sheep's screams for more. But at this point they were as familiar with the sound of Brute's antics as they were with the distant rumble of bombing runs and artillery barrages.

Nobody wanted to poke their head in and say something, knowing full well how futile the endeavour was. Especially when Brute had a tight wet cunt wrapped around his cock.

As good as she felt, Molly thought she must look ridiculous, and a furious blush burned across her cheeks as she sat on elbows and knees with her ass stuck up int the air, skirt hiked up over her shapely hips and her panties lost in the hot, frantic rush to undress and fuck like there was no tomorrow. She was aware of her orgasmic bleating, and how loud it was pealing off the hollow metal walls around her.

At the same time she knew she looked perfectly the part.

Her nails were scratching over the bare concrete floor that burned her knees, his thrusts making the anthro ewe undulate back and forth. Her eyes were crossed with pleasure and her tongue hung out of her mouth, dripping drool like a panting, moaning bitch in heat impaled on the long, thick, bright red pole of a cock attached to the large sheepdog crouched behind her.

'What the hell am I doing?' was the main thought racing through her mind. While at the same time the sounds out her mouth were more along the lines of "Yes-yes-yes-ohShepherdsfuckme-harder-fuckmeharder-don'tstop!"

In her mind she was still a much-respected senior agent of a secretive three-letter intelligence agency; though you couldn't tell given there was a sheepdog balls deep in her pussy.

Though slotting Brute into the same tier as your average sheepdog soldier was probably understating things.

Brute was technically one of a kind. Still a genetically modified guardian grown and trained to protect the flock, Brute was however closer to the wolves whose stolen genetic code gave birth to the earlier sheepdog programme. As such, the anthro Canidae towered not only over sheep like Molly, but even his fellow sheepdogs.

A little over seven feet tall, his broad physique was bulwarked by a rippling musculature. He was at peak bipedal perfection, the rigid bands of iron muscle clad in a sleek brown and black spotted fur. His tail was short and whippy, with a long wolfen muzzle bulked out somewhat by overdeveloped biting muscles. His rigid ears stood upright and alert, almost like a pair of daggers horns, and he was clad in a standard battle uniform of the sheepdogs.

At least, what remained of it given his pants and boots were discarded somewhere alongside Molly's lost panties.

The light barrel portion of his UBACS clung to his body like a second skin, showing off the rigid lines of his abdominals and pectorals. And one hand alone was almost large enough to envelop Molly's whole mid-riff like she was some sort of living sex-toy.

Brute wasn't just abnormal for a sheepdog, the mere fact he was squatted behind her, railing her body with the massive cock sprouting from his furry sheath was beyond taboo. For a sheep, fucking a sheepdog was almost as bad as fucking a wolf, which everyone knew ended in blood.

But given how good Brute was at it, Molly was quite confident she could get over herself in order to have a quick round-two. If her body didn't give out on her, of course.

Every thrust into her body, Brute's immense cock stretched out a visible bump forming in her belly. Her organs were almost certainly being re-arranged every time he slammed into her. And were she watching from the third person, she might have cringed in pain. But Brute seemed to realise how out of place huge he was and the apex of each thrust slowed enough so he gently kissed her core, letting a good few inches of cock that simply just did not fit in Molly's body hang free; though glistening with the sheer amount of feminine sexual gratification leaking from her body and cascading down his furry balls.

Her shoulders shrugged tight against her slender throat, and rocking onto her knees, her toes curled in her pumps as her feet lifted involuntarily off the ground. The long shuddering moan that escaped her red lips mirrored the tremor roiling through her whole body as she squirted all over Brute's cock... again. She orgasmed for what must have been the sixth time in six minutes, and after almost an hour of going at her, Brute was showing no signs of slowing.

Had it even been sixty minutes? Or had it been ten? Perhaps a hundred? Molly couldn't tell anymore, it was all a blur of pleasure and moaning and gushing orgasm after orgasm with seemingly no end in sight. Her face was a mask of blank, mindless pleasure, so much so she could probably take a cropped selfie, show it to her boss and get fired for little more than looking like a brain-dead bimbo - whereas she was supposed to be a keen, sharp minded intelligence officer.

If anyone familiar with her division walked in and caught them, her whole image, her reputation, her career, everything would be ruined! Though, honestly she didn't know what she would say other than telling Brute to just keep fucking. Not that telling him to stop would achieve anything anyway.

The hulking canine was in the zone. He had both hands wrapped around her slender waist, gripping just tight enough to hold her in place as he ploughed her in earnest. His cock slopped in and out of Molly's cunt with an almost hypnotic rhythm, and while there was still a spark of focus in the silent sheepdog's eyes, by the way his muzzle fell open and he took deep, calming breaths, he was clearly enjoying the slick little sheep-hole. At this point it would probably take a whole battalion of his peers to peel Brute off her.

And to be honest, Molly would have it no other way.

With a font of limitless stamina somewhere in that genetically perfect body of his, Brute just kept going. Hammering her quim with reckless abandon. Molly just gave herself over, stopped worrying about the ridiculous position she'd been twisted in and let him use her body to his heart's content. Just keep making her feel wonderful, and she wouldn't mind.

Her quim was completely ravaged. There was a tickle deep inside her, an inch being scratched that no man, finger or toy had ever touched before. And where the rams she'd been with in the past would have spent long ago at the enthusiastic pace Brute was setting, he showed no sign of letting her down.

Molly's whole world was blank. Keeling forward, she pressed her furry cheek to the floor and let her tongue roll out of her mouth. At some point she was sure she even blacked out. But when her senses returned in the aftermath of another extremity tingling, light headed orgasm, Brute was still going.

She was raw, and sensitive, and completely out of breath. She couldn't feel her legs anymore and was pretty sure she'd worn through the knees of her stockings.

"Oh fuck, Brute are you going to cum yet? Please tell me you're going to cum soon," she squealed, almost begging.

"You want it?" Brute grunted, almost innocently unaware of what he was putting the ewe through.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Please, just give it to me. Just cum already. I can't take it anymore."

"And where do you want it then?" There was a faint snigger in his voice. He knew the effect he was having on her, the bastard.

While that smug tone easily irritated Molly, in her current state it was impossible to stay mad. "Anywhere~! Do the - ahn~! - do the thing you said you'd - oh! - d-do to me like half an hour ago!"

"Oh, you want the knot, do you?"

"Yehs~! Fuck, give me that please! Just do it already!"

There was something annoyingly blasé about the way he said, "Alright then."

One hand snaked up along her body, feeling along the athletic curves of the sheep until his fingers closed around her throat. Then lifting her upright he slammed into her, every inch of his length disappearing into her squirming body. Molly bucked her ass back, grinding her hips against his as she felt his girth grow even thicker.

At first she cried out in a mixture of surprise and fear. Then as the swelling at the base of Brute's cock stretched out her opening, her cries turned to a howl of delight. Her hands fought to grab something, anything. One hand caught him by the wrist, while the other wrapped around his muzzle and squeezed his jaws shut.

"Shepherd! Oh, Shepherd above, w-wha... its... it's too big... so much, I'm... I'm going to split in half!"

She didn't, as the massive knot slipped out of her tiny opening for sheer lack of space. The physiology between sheep and sheepdog, especially one as big as Brute, were hardly compatible. Whereas a female sheepdog or a wolf would have tied greedily to his knot, all he could do to hold Molly in place was cradle her twitching shuddering body against him as his knot pulsed against her quivering opening.

Molly's eyes were rolled back so only the whites were visible, and her right eyelid twitched like some psychotic tick was triggered by the warmth of the cum shooting deep into her womb. The tip of Brute's cock was pressed right up against her core as the lava erupted into her body. She felt like she'd just chugged a litre of milk, a groggy warm sensation sloshing around in her straining belly as her body struggled to hold all that cock and rich Canidae baby batter inside.

"Fuuuu-hhhhck~!" Molly wheezed drunkenly, her canal rippling up and down Brute's twitching member as she creamed all over him one last time. Then her body went completely weak and the only thing holding her up was his mighty red rod and his powerful hands groping both her neck and her breasts.

Just one look at her ditzy expression was enough to make Brute smile. Molly's eyes were crossed, her lips spread into a broad, drunken smile with her bottom lip clamped under her teeth.

"That good, huh?" he asked out the corner of his mouth where she was still holding on to his muzzle.

"Shut up~," she said, drawing a shuddering breath.

Her body trembled as his cock slipped out of her pussy with a wet pop and a gurgle of cum flowing down her inner thigh. It splattered into a sizeable puddle on the hangar floor, a small fountain of pearly white jizz cascading from Molly's nethers.

She hung there in Brute's arms for a moment as the swelling of her belly receded with a sigh of relief. Her eyes were staring vacantly into the distance and there was a soppy grin across her face, her right leg still kicking involuntarily in the aftermath of her last orgasm.

When he set her down somewhere dry, Molly could only ease back, sitting on hands and knees for a moment trying to compose herself. She was a far cry from the presentable business-like woman who had arrived on the FOB a little under three hours ago. She'd barely even finished her tour of the base for wanting to check in on Brute, to make sure he had everything he needed for the upcoming operation.

If she'd known Brute had a need to fill her with his cream she might have had the foresight to bring a change of clothes.

The sheep had a slender, leggy figure with smooth, creamy white fur that turned to deep black from her elbows and knees down, like a natural set of hosiery. Her raven hair had been drawn back into a ponytail, but after several tugs from Brute - which had only made her squeal louder - several errant tresses framed her doll-like features. Her dark green eyes were firmly shut as her red lips parted to let deep sighs pass in and out of her burning lungs. A few ladders were torn into her stockings and in her current state of mind she couldn't even be bothered looking for her panties.

"That was... I don't know what that was exactly."

Brute chuckled, shaking out a pair of spare pants coloured in the same kill-brush pattern camo as his shirt and slipped them on. "It's okay to admit you liked it, Agent Molly. You wouldn't be the first."

She chuckled, lips drawn into a pleasant smile. "A couple hours ago I didn't even know what 'knotting' was. Now it's my favourite thing in the world."

As Brute stooped to help the woman up, she licked her lips and planted a loving little smooch on his nose. Brute's tail wagged instinctively. Despite his custom build, some of the sheepdog genetics still swam around in him.

When Molly tried to stand though, she wobbled in Brute's grip and would have collapsed had he not set her down on a bench next to his row of lockers.

"Great Shepherd," she whimpered with a smile. "Maybe I should just sit for a minute."

How was Molly ever going to go back to the flock and have normal sex with a regular ram ever again? Did all sheepdogs fuck this good? She really wanted to find out, especially if a regular sheepdog was more to her scale. Brute's immense size, while great, was a little detrimental. She wanted to know what happened when a knot actually fitted inside her. She wanted to be stretched out and tied in place. Taboos be damned, she wanted to know what it was like to be properly bred by that doggy-dick.

When the feeling began to return to her legs, Molly did her best to look around and take in Brute's digs. He had moved onto the FOB a few weeks ahead of her. He certainly had much more mission critical equipment to move around. Several lockers were required to house all of his upsized gear, he also needed a specially customised heavy lift helicopter for insertion and extraction, which sat in the centre of the cavernous hangar. Brute even had custom bathroom amenities along with a re-enforced bunk set up in the corner, along with specially up-sized exercise equipment.

The logistical nightmare of housing Brute aside, it would be worth it. Fresh off the proving grounds, Brute was hungry for the active theatre and soon he'd embark on his first shakedown operation. Molly was here to line up his targets.

She'd actually only called in to see how he was settling in, not to have a life-changing orgasm.

Molly wondered if the weird erotic stories she'd heard back in the flock had any truth to them. There had been tales of rich and powerful sheep, particularly ewes, purchasing harems of retired sheepdogs to pleasure them in ways no ram ever could. When she'd first heard of it she had laughed at the sheer silliness of the concept. Though now she knew how good it felt to have a sheepdog inside her, she wasn't so sure she could resist the urge to start her own little harem.

A metallic groan pulled her out of her musings, and quickly doing up the buttons on her shirt and smoothing down her skirt she saw the hangar doors start to open. They cracked own the middle, spilling mid-day sunlight into the dim hangar, before several dark silhouettes walked in.

The first few were sheep, like Molly. Though these rams wore officer uniforms, emblazoned with shiny rank markings and brightly coloured campaign ribbons.

They were followed by a number of obedient guardians brought to heel; eight sheepdogs like Brute.

Maybe not 'just like,' given they had more normal proportions. Each of the sheepdogs stood only a little taller than the plantigrade sheep. The sheepdogs were digitigrade bipeds, with hard athletic builds that reasonably closely resembled the wolves from whom they had been artificially evolved. They came from several sheepdog sub-races, the majority of them black-and-tan furred Malinois, several dark furred Collies and one Bulldog with a bulging musculature like Brute's, despite being significantly shorter.

The sheepdogs wore the same BDU as Brute with sturdy boots on their footpaws and their shirt-collars folded open. They moved in professional lock step like they had been rehearsing how to make an entry. Each the boys had a build any woman with sense would drool over. Though they looked like pups in Brute's sun-blotting shadow.

The Sheepdog Programme had protected the flock, Molly's kind, for almost a century. But the war against the ravenous wolves raged on all the same. And in recent years the sheepdog defensive line had begun to falter, prompting further experimentation.

From that experimentation came Brute. And Molly figured even if Brute proved no more effective than regular sheepdogs on the battlefield, at least he'd make for a pretty exceptional fuck-buddy.

"Agent Molly, good to see you arrived in one piece," the sheep wearing the rank markings of a captain greeted. He paused by an operations table where the model of a compound had been built out of foam, card and whatever other scraps had been laying around base.

The captain held out his hand as if waiting for greeting, but Molly didn't budge from where she sat. Her legs were still shaking like she'd run an extended sprint, and she quickly offered a polite smile.

"I'm good here for a moment, captain."

The captain blinked, then turned back to the model. Though as he did, his eyes caught the light shining on the puddle of cum near where Molly sat. As the sheep did a double take, the sheepdogs were looking around with confusion, sniffing at the air. No doubt their heightened smell was picking up traces of sex still lingering in the air.

Molly looked away innocently, working through the blush glowing through the fur on her cheeks.

While his colleagues were still trying to figure out why the hangar smelled like an orgy, the sheepdog in charge seemed to have noticed Brute standing at parade rest nearby. This sheepdog was taller than his peers, though nowhere as big as even an average wolf. On his sleeve he wore a patch for his fireteam, under which the nametape reading 'Tacco' sat. He was an alert looking Malinois with chocolate fur across his face and triangular ears, the black hair on his scalp cropped short like his peers.

"Are we going to talk about the enormous mutt in the room, sir?" Tacco asked mildly, and from that statement alone Brute seemed to know where this was going.

He knew an alpha when he saw one. Sheepdogs didn't wear rank markings, but Brute knew well enough. It took one to know one, so to speak.

It struck him as odd though, that he wasn't designated alpha for this team. Two alphas assigned to an operation never ended well. Then again, this was a shakedown operation.

The captain seemed to take the barbed comments in stride as he gave Brute an introductory wave. "Gentlemen, ladies, this is Brute. The result on Project Demi-Shepherd. There are some files on the table there."

As the sheepdog operators each took a file and flicked through, the captain continued speaking like he'd rehearsed a speech.

"As you well know, sheepdogs like yourself were developed long ago in a genetics lab using wolf DNA. We were able to strip away, and then breed out undesirable traits, producing the sheepdogs you are today. Well, with Demi-Shepherd we worked backwards. Taking all the desirable traits from our most effective sheepdog subraces, we combined them into one, working closer towards the wolfen genetics, instead of further away. And all with a few artificial improvements."

The captain gestured to a nearby television, and his young desk officer - a sheep girl dressed in a smart but sexy manner that reminded Molly of how she'd presented herself before Brute fucked the stuffing out of her - turned the screen to play back some sort of military test. The first thing they noted were the arid proving grounds from further south, and standing in the burning sand a familiar hulking sheepdog dressed in no more than board shorts and a pair of hiking boots.

Brute on screen launched into a sprint, forcing the cameraman to zoom out just to keep up as he clocked in near enough to fifty kilometres per hour. The run threw him headlong into the armoured prow of a deactivated tank used for testing. It had actually been armoured up for the purpose of testing armour-piercing munitions. But Brute ripped through it all the same, clawing and almost wading straight through the hefty vehicle before bursting out its back end, holding the hefty engine block which he tore in two with ease, using nothing more than his bare hands.

Several of the sheepdogs in the squad laughed in disbelief. They were clearly impressed. But Brute's pride didn't last long as he eyed Tacco for approval. The squad's alpha was flicking through his file before he looked past Brute at the captain.

"It says here the tests were a mixed bag," he said plainly. "Armour piercing and high-ex rounds can still penetrate his skin according to this. Also, he's got an obedience and intelligence score far below the threshold for sheepdog deployment."

Brute scoffed at that part, pretty sure he was being insulted. Then again, the paperwork did speak for itself. Though Brute had never run into an exercise that required him to think his way out of trouble. Ripping and tearing usually did the trick just fine.

"Is putting him in the field really a good idea?" Tacco asked.

"I'll be fine," Brute assured in a low growl.

The sheepdog snapped back, almost angrily. "Wasn't asking you, roid-rage."

Brute growled, but tempered himself. He was close to being deployed; he wasn't going to miss the opportunity just because he had to teach the lapdog some manners.

The captain stuck up for him though. "Stand down, Tacco. We are deploying Brute. He represents a multi-million wool investment. An investment going to waste on the proving grounds while you and your sheepdogs lose a war."

Tacco looked like the captain was winding up to spit in his face, but managed to keep an even tone. "Sir, with respect, we're losing because of a multitude of factors. Interest in the war effort back among the flock is waning, and the dwindling resource pool after the last round of budget cuts is hardly our fault. Though, its nice to see where all that money the flock is saving is going to," he added, nodding to Brute.

The towering sheepdog gave a smarmy grin, then flipped the other alpha a salute with only one finger.

Visibly angry at his comments however, the captain almost shouted, "Heel, Tacco!" That was enough to get the sheepdog to snap his muzzle shut and stand to attention. The rest of the squad, with the exception of Brute, quickly followed suit.

While on the one hand, Brute didn't much like Tacco's attitude, the captain was being harsh. Tacco was right about the part where losing the war wasn't all on the sheepdogs - losing the war was a team-effort. But he wasn't entirely certain the captain would appreciate a more in-depth education on the matter, given how he was reacting to Tacco's calm expression of the facts.

With Tacco's concerns cowed, the captain continued. "We are deploying Brute, and that is the end of the conversation. You can either get with the programme, or I'll switch your team out with one that's more flexible."

With his piece said and his foot firmly stamped down, the captain turned on his heel and left the floor. As he went though, his muttering of 'bloody mutts' was clearly audible.

It was obvious to Brute that while the sheep looked to the dogs for protection, respect was very much a one-way street uphill.

Molly in the meantime seemed to find her feet without wobbling, and the cracks of her heels pealed off the hollow walls as she circled the team and the compound model.

"What's the mission, ma'am?" Tacco asked, clearly familiar the woman, or at the very least her type.

"We're sending you after General Raoke. The name ring any bells?"

It seemed to because the sheepdogs looked at each other and closed in around the table with renewed eagerness. Even Brute knew of the wolf general and his effect on the war. It was common knowledge among the ranks that General Roake was not only committing atrocious war crimes, his crimes were similarly responsible to the wolfen push lately.

"You clearly know him," Molly said, "but I'll bring you up to speed anyway. General Raoke is motivating his troops to push by letting them turn female prisoners of war into sex slaves. It has been estimated there are at least three hundred ewes aged seventeen to thirty trapped in the wolfen front line, freely passed from wolf to wolf."

"Fucking monsters," a female sheepdog in the squad muttered.

"Raoke has encouraged this behaviour, motivating his soldiers to claim more territory, and as a result fresh prisoners to turn into meals and sex slaves."

There was a scoff somewhere in the ranks. A Malinois like Tacco, his nametag reading 'Baddy' pinched the bridge of his muzzle between two fingers as if nursing a headache.

"As if fucking eating people wasn't bad enough?" he said. "Now they're raping and eating people."

"Another day in paradise," the Bulldog, 'Kilpo' grunted grimly.

"Indeed. So we think it's about high time you took him out. Raoke has been discovered to be operating from a compound directly north of here. Tacco, your team will insert with Brute by air, then hike approximately twenty clicks to the objective."

Baddy spoke up again to ask, "Are we playing fetch?" and Molly shook her head.

"Negative. Kill."

That put a big smile on Baddy's face. "Well what do you know? My favourite game," he said, nudging the slender sheepdog beside him.

The Canidae female was similar to the Malinois in terms of build, but with a more distressed black-and-tan pattern in her fur and a slightly fluffier profile. Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat braid pinned to the back of her head and her arms were folded over a chest that must have been a pain to tuck under a plate carrier.

Tilting her head in Baddy's direction, 'Jade' said, "Contain your excitement, dude. I don't wanna have to duct-tape your ass back together like last time."

As Tacco told them to cut the chatter, he leaned over the model of the compound and gave the perimeter fencing a closer look. "What kind of resistance is expected?"

"The full suite. This one's going to be tricky to pull off," Molly admitted. "Not only is there a sizeable infantry presence, the place is crawling with corvus drones. Quadrotors, with smart friend-or-foe sensors and underslung small-arms. The perimeter is not impenetrable, but even if you can get past it, with the erratic patrol routes it will only be a matter of time before your infiltration is burned."

A Collie named 'Rex' pointed at the main compound. "They might have a server stack I can get into."

"The whole base is air-gapped, so you'll have to do it from an internal hard-line," Molly said. "If you're in a hurry there are two wireless power stations on the compound. Kick those the corvus drones go into emergency battery mode, limiting their range and offensive power. That should give you an edge if things go hot."

"Then that'll be our first port of call," Tacco said before Brute cut across him.

"None of this is a problem for me," he growled. "I'll just walk in, break General Raoke's head off and walk out." Then with a smug little grin he added to Tacco, "Your team can meet me on the way out and walk me to extraction. Better yet, you guys take the day off." Looking back at Molly he cracked his knuckles. "I'll have this taken care of inside an hour."

"That's not exactly a good plan," Tacco pointed out, before he looked over his shoulder and nodded at his subordinate. "Baddy?"

The Malinois in question seemed surprised for a second, then looked between the two alphas. "Uh... you want me in on this particular dick-measuring exercise? Because I'll kick both ya'lls asses-..."

Both Tacco and Brute turned their glares at Baddy who was taken immediately aback.

"Okay, alright. Take it easy." Slipping a tactical map out of his thigh pocket, he unfolded the laminated paper and pointed out the region they were set to operate in. "Take a look, big-guy. This is the compound up here. And way down here at the foot of the mountain is a staging area. Approximately ten-minute hike, if you're pressed. Which the locals will be when the alarm is raised, because that base is home to a whole infantry division."

"I'm sure I can deal with it," Brute assured.

"With the infantry, sure. What about the three main battle tanks they got for support?"

Brute secretly grimaced. That did complicate things. He was only bullet proof to a degree. One tank, he could deal with solo. Two, maybe if he played it smart. But three, each potentially packing the heat he was particularly vulnerable to? Brute wasn't all that excited to test his limits just yet. Especially not with the odds stacked so high against him. All it would take was for one wolf to get a lucky shot with an anti-tank launcher and the flock's multi-million wool investment would turn into a red smear on the mountainside.

"...any alarms, and inside ten minutes you'll have to deal with all that pushing your shit in," Baddy continued to prattle.

"Got it, thanks," Brute growled, making Baddy back off again.

"Hey, man, I'm just the messenger."

With that particular bit of tactical knowledge laid out, Tacco took over the briefing again. "The best idea is to go in stealth. We kill he power, slip the perimeter and tap the bad guy in the chaos. Then use the same chaos to get out before backup can even be called."

"And how will you do that when the wireless power stations are inside the corvus drone perimeter?" Brute asked smartly.

"We have these new things called air-strikes," Tacco seethed sarcastically.

At about that point Molly seemed to tire of the back and forth and stepped between them. "There are too many hidden anti-air emplacements in those mountains. There will be no air-support." Then whirling on Brute, she made him shrink back out of his offensive posture by waving an accusatory finger in front of his nose. "And you are not one-hundred percent bullet proof. So play smart for once. You both need each other, which is why I chose Tacco's team as support and fought to put Brute in the field as an asset.

"Brute will draw troops off the perimeter with a small distraction, allowing all elements to slip inside. While Tacco's team rigs the wireless power stations, Brute finds the target. Synchronise the demolition with Brute's breach. Take out the general. Use the chaos to regroup and extract. You'll be out before the re-enforcements are even called. No fancy John Wayne shit!"

As Molly was glancing between the two of them, both Tacco and Brute avoided each other's gazes as they begrudgingly admitted that was a really good plan.

---

II

Out in the field, Brute needed very little. He wore just a base-layer tee and camo pants, not really bothered by the cold. And without much need for armour, he wore a chest rig more typical of a recon setup. He only needed something to carry the ammo for his belt fed machine gun. Even that was his only firearm, weighing little more than a pistol in his opinion.

The rest of the team were decked out in a more traditional loadout. Taking cover a little further up, they were prone on the rocky ridge overlooking General Raoke's compound. Their stone grey plate carriers and FAST helmets. Quad-lens night vision goggles illuminated the darkness for them. Winter jackets staved off the wintery wind snaking up the mountainside, their arctic camo quite a contrast against multicam-black pants and hiking boots. An odd colour scheme, but it hid them well among the rocks and banks of snow in the barren mountains, especially on such a moonless night.

While the boys were panting in the thin air of high altitude they barely had a few hours to acclimatise to, Brute's breaths remained long and steady. His augmented muscles and stored enough oxygen from sucking down an o2 tank on the flight in, that he could run a whole marathon.

The other sheepdogs slowly checked their suppressors and readied their weapons with a quiet cacophony of preparatory clicks and hushed conversation.

"Where is Brute?" Tacco suddenly asked.

Baddy answered, "Dunno, man. He might be back a ways. He said something about securing our rear."

"How the fuck do you lose track of a guy that size?" There was some shifting and scraping, before Brute heard Tacco's voice echo in his headset. "Jade, is Brute back there with you?"

Behind the cluster of rocks hiding them from view, Jade froze mid-squat, her knees trembling as if she were on the verge of collapse, and clamped both hands over her muzzle. The team medic was bent over which her pants and shorts pulled down into a bunch around her ankles while Brute's impressive girth stuffed her pussy. The Demi-Shepherd sheepdog was sat back among a few angled slabs of rock that formed a sort of throne, and he watched with a satisfied smile as Jade sat in his lap, rocking herself back and forth, impaling her body on Brute's cock.

The visible bulge he left in her belly receded as she rose up to the tip, breathing hard through her fingers and struggling not to cry out with orgasmic glee.

"N-no!" the black-and-tan sheepdog lied, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "He's not back here."

"Well, are you going to be any longer?" Tacco asked.

Baddy added, "Yeah, how long do you need to take a piss? What are you doing back there?"

Jade set her hands on Brute's knees for balance as she shot the cluster of rocks a glare. "Girl stuff! You can came back here and help me change my bloody tampon if you're so interested, hot-shot."

"Ugh! No thanks. Information overload."

Brute saw her let out a quiet sigh of relief realising the rest of the team were off their back for a moment. But frankly the glistening shaft of his cock was starting to get cold in the mountain air. Grabbing Jade by the base of her tail, he yanked her back down over his cock.

Jade let out a cursing whisper as her body shuddered. Her eyes were crossed and her legs struggled to hold her own weight. All she could do was let herself fall back, feeling the immense cock bulge her belly back out as the tip pressed her 'oh~!'-button. Several inches of his cock just did not fit inside and kinked slightly with the force she was yanked down with. But the inches that did fit inside were more than enough to make Jade cream all over his shaft.

Brute chuckled quietly at the way her jaw moved, hinging like a marionette mimicking speech. But Jade didn't make a sound bar some long, shuddering gasps. Eventually her hips stopped bucking, and with a flutter of her eyelashes the athletic sheepdog turned her head sharply back at him.

"Don't do that!" she hissed. "I almost fucking screamed."

"I would have loved to hear that," Brute said, trying to slide his hand up under her plate-carrier to feel her impressive breasts.

She slapped away his hand and stood. Like before, her belly receded back to the flat, subtly muscled mid-riff and the tip of Brute's cock exploded wetly from her gaping pussy. Inch by inch the fleshy tunnel closed in on itself, and Jade sighed at the empty feeling, but still shuddered in the aftermath of orgasmic satisfaction. She'd been knotted her fair share, but she'd never been stuffed so full before.

"Asshole," she commented, yanking her pants up over her curvy rear and pushing her bushy tail through the gap.

"Hey, I didn't finish yet," Brute growled with a frown, earning another scoff from Jade.

"Well it serves you right," she said, turning on her heel. "I should leave you hanging for pulling my tail like that."

Brute could tell she was teasing, but wasn't sure whether he should play along with a vicious growl or an innocent, pleading whimper.

Before he could do either, Jade leaned on his thighs and put her lusty smile a few inches form his nose. "But don't worry, big boy. I've been itching to find out what this thing tastes like."

He liked the sound of that, but liked the sight even more as Jade moved like a stripper squatting elegantly between his legs despite being weight down by her tactical gear. Helmet, night-vision goggles, rifle slung on her back and all, the twenty-something canine prostrated herself in front of Brute's erection like a nun at the altar of worship. His length and girth was more than enough to hide her almost entirely from view.

At least until her long delicate fingers, revealed by the cut of her fingerless gloves wrapped around the rock-hard flesh still glistening with her slippery juices. Peeking around the shaft, Jade made a show of wagging her eyebrows as she opened her mouth, stuck out her broad tongue then very slowly, teasingly, at an agonising pace pressed just the tip against the thick shaft of Brute's proud manhood.

She could tell how much she was torturing him, especially in the cold environment, and seemed to relish it. All payback for pulling her tail it appeared.

Brute made a face that Jade giggled at. Then she pressed more of her tongue to the sensitive flesh, catching the tang of her own sexual gratification still steaming from his shaft. Slowly, insidiously, oh-so-sensually her tongue began to steal into motion and she ran a lick up the broad length, pausing with a small swirl over the tapered tip, and finally traced a line of soggy smooches down the underside. He felt the coolness of her wet nose glide down with her soft lips, the silky furry cheeks raking along the cock and the warmth of her body pressing close against his stem like it was a comforter.

An inch at a time she worshipped his rod, trapping it in her hands and working her tongue up and down in sometimes quick zigzagging patterns, sometimes in a slow, sensual fashion. At the tip she would give the glans a loving kiss and flash the smiling sheepdog a saucy wink, before suckling it like a thirsty maiden desperate for a drink, and finally work her tongue, her soft lips and even her silky face down the whole thing again.

Brute was in heaven. He'd had women blow him before, or try at least. Even Molly had tried her hand and as sexy as that sheep had looked in her attempts, she was nowhere near as good as Jade was. She had clearly practiced on big cocks in the past, though given she'd taken his dick in her cunt with such swift ease when they began, he had to guess this wasn't her first rodeo on a big sheepdog cock.

Working her way up into a half-standing position again, her lips pursed over the tip with her tongue swirling over the top like she was trying to get to the gooey centre of a strawberry popsicle, Jade tugged off one glove and dumped it in the snow beside her pack, then pulled off the other, finger by finger before sliding her hand out of the tactical gear in a ladylike fashion.

The softness of her slender hands unobstructed by the coarse padding, she smiled over the cock plugging her lips and felt down along the shaft, sensually gliding her palms up and down the lenght. Her eyes closed with focus as her tongue worked harder, her hands massaging tighter and faster. And before long she could feel a throb against her tongue, between her hands, and Brute grunted deeply.

His balls churned, enthusiastic for release. His cock throbbed and he almost grabbed Jade by the face to pull her down over the member. But knowing what was coming, he didn't want to drown the poor woman. Instead he set his nails into his stone seat, rolled his hips slightly against the warm inside of her muzzle and released.

Long, hot waves of pleasure rolled through his body as he let out a sigh of relief, feeling the warm essence erupt from his tip and flood Jade's mouth. She inhaled sharply through her nose as the salty tang exploded across her senses. Then her eyes jerked open when she realised she'd gulped down two mouthfuls, and the spurts just kept coming.

She coughed, and gagged, a sliver of Brute's cum shooting from her nose. Then with a retch she pulled away, strings of thick semen dripping from her lips and splattering to the ground as she doubled over and muffled her coughs and gasps. Brute in the meantime kept pulsing in her slender hand, shooting long ropes of cum that arched thought he air and splattered into the snow nearby, forming a channel of steaming, pearly white fluid that melted the snow around it.

When the force of his ejaculation subsided and a single thick string bubbled from the glans down the underside of his shaft, pooling against Jade's thumb where she held on to the cock, the medic frowned at the immense steaming puddle he'd created. No wonder she'd choked, there'd no way she'd have been able to swallow all that! If she hadn't pulled away she'd be coated from head to toe in his thick, gloopy jizz. And while honestly the thought of being absolutely bathed in his warm cum made Jade's nethers tingle a bit, they were about to kick off an operation. She couldn't seriously run into the valley and shoot wolves in the face having been thoroughly bukakke'd head to paw.

"You made an admirable effort," Brute joked, catching the way she was admiring the result of her handywork.

Jade giggled, catching the thick, gloopy trail that ran along the underside of his shaft with her tongue and licked it all up. Good girls clean their toys after all. "I love that taste," she admitted. "Though I'm more of a creampie kinda girl. Unfortunately I cant afford to let you fuck me into a knock-kneed mess right now, so that'll have to wait until after the mission."

"I'll slot you into my busy schedule."

Picking up her backpack, licking her fingers then putting her gloves back on with a smile she added, "See to it you do."

Cleaned up and clothed, the duo individually linked back up with the team. Jade first, maintaining that she'd finished peeing and was good to go. Brute followed a moment after, claiming their rear was secure.

"Finally," Tacco grimaced when Brute settled into a crouch. "It's go-time. Try to keep it quiet."

"Try not to suck," Brute shot back, not much liking the sheepdog's tone.

As the squad rolled to their feet and started their descent, Brute broke off to the side and slid down the hillside, quietly surfing down the surface of loose gravel and shale. The two hundred metre drop only took him a few moments, then leaping of the mountainside he landed lightly where a grassy plateau flanking the compound levelled off nicely.

His target was a small smattering of torches swinging this way and that along the western fence. And with his gun safely slung, Brute crept closer to spot three wolves.

With barely a pause he picked up a rock and tossed it into the darkness, his keen eyes discerning shapes in the darkness better than either the sheepdogs or wolves could without appropriate eye-wear. His colleagues had high definition digital night vision with a quad of tubes each, giving them a wide field of view through the darkness. Though it seemed the wolves were working on a budget and relied on their gun mounted torches, which all swivelled off to Brute's side as his rock hit the side of a tree with a loud 'tchock!'

With barely a moment's hesitation the wolves moved towards the source of the noise, completely oblivious to the small mountain stalking them in the darkness.

Brute's guard was up, and the nearest wolf seemed to notice something in his periphery, making him turn. Brute had his hands on the wolf in an instant, one around his throat and the other around the muzzle before with a sharp twist and a quiet crack, he twisted the head right around.

The second wolf took a fist to the face as Brute quickly moved on. The wolf was decked into the dirt about the same time as the first, and Brute pounded him into the next life with a swift curb stomp, while at the same time grabbing the final wolf by the muzzle. His mouth was jammed shut so he wouldn't cry out and his rifle came out of his hands with a single tug at the barrel, clattering uselessly beside them as Brute lifted the wolf into the air by his nose.

Locking eyes with the wolf, Brute had a brief realisation. This was the first time he'd met the enemy in the flesh. It was different from the metal silhouettes at the testing and training facility he'd been developed. The wolves were surprisingly very much like him. Bigger than an average sheep, standing on footpaws the same way Brute and the other sheepdogs did. Lean, muscled and predatory in almost every aspect of the physique.

However there was nothing in the wolf's eyes as she struggled to wrench himself from Brute's iron grip. No sense of fear or panic. There didn't seem to be muscles in his eyebrows, so there was no expression other than a daggers intent to kill.

Even if this guy was afraid, he wasn't even physically capable of expressing it.

Brute jabbed him in the throat with a fist, silencing him as the wolf struggled for his pistol. Transferring his grip to the wolf's wrist, the sheepdog then broke his arm like it was a twig. The wolf could only let out a gargling whimper before brute found the wolf's bayonet and pretty much took the head with a single swipe.

"Distraction in position," Brute whispered as he clicked the PTT mounted to his tactical rig. Kneeling, he picked up a fallen assault rifle and checked it out.

"Roger. Send it," was all Tacco said.

Levelling the assault rifle, Brute let out a sustained burst into the darkness, then discarded the weapon and slid into a cluster of rocks not twenty metres away. Just in time to watch a pair of corvus drones appear out of the darkness, their lights illuminating the grisly crime scene for two fireteams of wolves who came running.

The drones were quadrotors, plastic cowling shielding the four pivoting rotors that held the main assembly of circuitry, sensors and a single magazine fed pistol in the air. What the corvus lacked in firepower it gained in accuracy, speed and manoeuvrability. It could mag-dump on you before you even spotted the thing, let alone drew a bead on it and attempted to swat it out of the air.

After idling around the dead wolves for a moment, the re-enforcements directed the drones to begin an outward search pattern, then followed cautiously in the opposite direction where Brute was hidden. Tacco at the same time came back on comms, shortly indicating they slipped through the hole in the patrols Brute just caused.

They were in. And that was Brute's cue.

Easing out the back of the cluster, keeping the rocks between him and the search party, Brute sprinted across the clearing and jumped the perimeter fence in one leap. It seemed like a wild leap of faith, except he landed right on top of a lone wolf patrolling between several hab units set up on the edge of the courtyard outside the compound.

They both landed low with a muffled thump before Brute twisted the wolf's neck like the first, remaining motionless as his eyes spotted a passing corvus drone.

When the drone buzzed out of sight, he dragged the body alongside him, holding it by the scruff of the neck with the intent to hide it. Except when he rounded the corner, Brute froze face to face with a trio of wolves sitting lazily outside one of the habs, smoking cigarettes and playing cards on a storage box.

The four of them stared at each other, so bewildered that no one knew what to do.

Then one opened his mouth to cry out; but Brute had already dropped the body and launched himself at the trio.

III

Tacco had two fireteams to work with. Several peeps accompanied him on Warlock, while Cleric immediately broke off and crept to the far side of the compound. They moved through a gap in a perimeter fence, Tacco reaching over to click his radio while at the same time sweeping the area with his rifle in the other hand.

"Warlock-Zero to Dungeon Mistress in the blind. We're off the LCC and inserting into the compound now. Mission proceeding as normal, out."

His personal radio had enough juice to get the message to the orbiting command and control plane flying at as high an altitude as possible, and in the next few minutes the message would be streamed straight to Molly's headset back at the FOB. She wouldn't be answering, but then she didn't need to. He just needed to keep her up to date with how the mission was going.

His hand darted up from his PTT and Tacco gestured the rest of Warlock to freeze, then ease back into the shadows between two low buildings. A patrol of wolves walked by as if on cue.

The sheepdogs were practically invisible in the shadows, just outside the enemy's field of view. A cologne they wore mixed with the natural sheepdog musk, making them smell just like wolves. So the only way they'd be compromised was by sight and sound, something the sheepdogs were specifically trained to avoid.

With his rifle shouldered, Tacco leaned out of the shadows, the IR beam projected from his weapon glowing in his night vision but invisible to the wolves as it remained stuck to their backs. Satisfied they were clear, he gestured his peeps out in a straight line.

The sheepdogs crossed the avenue to one of the low bunkers flanking the compound's courtyard. Once in position, Cairo and Baddy pressed interior, while Flash remained posted outside to cover Tacco's delayed approach.

The main compound loomed over them, built partially into the steep mountainside and at least three stories tall. It was flanked by concrete walls that gave way to sections of chain-link fence, and the sprawling courtyard outside was home to numerous small prefabricated units. Several guard towers and a pillbox with a retractable section of fence were situated at the very front where the road wound down to the camp further down the mountain.

By the time Tacco caught up to his fireteam, Cairo was planting explosives on the humming wireless power generator just inside the small bunker. This device fed the corvus drones their juice. And beside it lay a dead wolf, smoke still curling from Baddy's rifle suppressor as he eased out of a firing stance, having dead checked the wolf in the back of the head for good measure.

As Cairo worked, Bounce from fireteam Cleric checked in to confirm they were planting explosives too.

Satisfied by a nod from Baddy that his team was good, Tacco moved back outside and knelt beside Flash. So far so good. The wolves had no idea about the sheepdogs in their midst. All they had to do was get Brute into position and...

And that's where Tacco's stomach sank, as he was reminded of the roided up sheepdog they were babysitting.

Moving along the exterior face wall of the compound in the full light, Tacco saw his bulky silhouette. It was a miracle none of the wolves in the guard towers saw him, though they were busy watching the outside of the compound grounds, rather than the inside.

And to Tacco's dismay, he saw Brute was laden down. Three dead wolves were draped over one shoulder, and he gripped a fourth by one leg, dragging it along behind him.

Angrily Tacco reached for the push-to-talk pinned to the shoulder strap of his tac-vest.

"Bute! What in the literal fuck!?" he hissed.

Juggling the corpses he was laden down with, Brute somehow managed to press his PTT as he paused by the compound entrance.

"I haven't found a good place to stash these guys yet. Gimme a second!"

Before Brute was even out of sight, Tacco sighed and braced his rifle a little tighter than he usually did. That's what he got for being optimistic.

IV

Brute grunted softly as he stuffed the dead wolves into a closet, including the fifth one he bodied in the lobby. The door took three attempts to close as several limp limbs kept flopping out and he had to stuff them back in, but eventually the lock clicked, and he pitied the poor morning janitor who now had a nasty surprise waiting for him.

The load significantly lightened and his hands free again, he balled them into fists and snuck his way deeper into the compound. This stealthy stuff wasn't exactly Brute's comfort zone, but he appreciated the element of surprise enough to go along with Tacco's desire to keep things quiet for now.

General Raoke's office wasn't hard to find. Molly had done good work with gathering intel on the compound. Her maps matched up exactly with what he was seeing, and coupled with the clear signposting in almost every corridor, Brute found the administrative offices in no time.

The corridors were abandoned, with only a few night guards wandering among the offices. Despite his immense bulk, Brute was able to slide from shadow to shadow and remain undetected until he reached the wooden door clearly marked with a brass plate.

General Raoke.

The desk officer's station just outside was empty for the night, and pressing an ear to the door he could hear some shuffling around inside. Sounded like the general was burning the midnight oil. Good.

"I'm stacking up. Prepping for breach," Brute whispered into his headset as he moved into position.

"Rodge. We're moving now too. Stand by for go-code, out."

As he hugged the threshold, Brute gently twiddled the door handle to check if it was locked. It was not, but as gently as he tried to turn the handle, the door still rattled. And that's when he heard it.

A muffled voice on the inside cried out: "Hey! Who's fooling around out there?"

Uh-oh.

Brute heard a hand on the door and saw the handle turn between his fingers as someone inside was about to tear open the door and spot him.

Fuck it.

Ducking, Brute slammed his shoulder into the door and broke it off its hinges, turning the wood panel into splinters. And with it, the wolf on the inside was immediately knocked to the floor at his feet.

Snatching the wolf on his immediate flank at the same time, Brute ducked under the low doorframe that wasn't exactly built to his height and snapped the wolf's neck between his hands. At the same time he stomped on the fallen wolf, pounding his muzzle into the carpet.

He was barely in when he took a barrage of gunfire however. Rounds tore through the broken wolf he held like a shield, passing clean through and tore into Brute's fatigues and tactical gear. But beyond that, each round puffed up and flattened against his fur like a layer of protective Kevlar. A full mag from the wolf assault rifle ripped across the room and peppered Brute. It stung, like thirty bees all getting an attack in for free. But Brute didn't stagger, and not a single round penetrated.

The shooter stood over by a mahogany desk on the far end of the office, some book-cases packed with leatherbound tomes and notebooks behind him. His assault rifle still smoked as he looked down at the ineffective gun for a moment.

"Moon's mercy!" the wolf cried, reaching for a full mag on his belt.

Brute however reached back at the same time, and dug his fingers into a nearby couch from the lounge area just inside the door. With about as much effort as throwing a pillow, Brute chucked the couch across the room and with a mighty bang crushed the shooter into the book-case.

When the dust settled, the wolf's legs stuck out from under the twisted pile of furniture, broken and still twitching.

There was chatter on the wolf's radio almost immediately though. Muffled by the pile of furniture, several voices laid over each other. But all were saying the same thing. Someone had heard the gunfire.

Cue the alarms blaring outside in the courtyard.

Brute grimaced. "That can't be good."

His own radio chirped at the same time and Tacco's voice practically screamed in Brute's ear. "What the fuck is happening up there? Did you breach? We're not ready down here!"

Brute yanked his radio for some peace and quiet as he started looking around, making sure the room was secure, then rifling through papers and notebooks on the desk. General Raoke wasn't here. That much was certain, none of the three wolve he'd wasted matched the general's description. So where could he be?

A schedule hanging on the wall gave Brute some clue, and he quickly ran his finger along the text, tracing the various appointments and notations of the general's travel plans. Then he cursed and plugged his PTT back in.

"Tacco, Brute. Raoke isn't here."

"Not in his office? Maybe the fucker's in his room!"

"No, he's not on base. I have his schedule right here. He flew out hours ago."

Tacco paused a beat, then cursed. "Fuck! The intel was bad."

Brute shook his head. "Dungeon Mistress' intel was fine! We were too slow. This never would have happened if I could have just gone in fast and-..."

"Clear the fuckin' channel, Brute!" Tacco followed the terse order with more commands to his team, directing them to fallback positions. It seemed he was pulling a plug on the mission. He wanted Brute to cover their retreat, then burn the generators and use the chaos to catch up. He could certainly move faster than any of the other sheepdogs anyway.

He was in the middle of formulating an extract when Rex chimed in on the comms. "Drones incoming boss. Looks like the re-enforcements down the road have been pinged too. Shitstorm in about ten minutes."

If ever there was a time to leave, it was now.

But something caused Brute to pause on his way out. He sniffed and froze, then sniffed a few more times and let his nose be guided to the second couch in the lounge. There was a faint but satisfying scent to the general's office. It had been masked in his rush to bowl over the door, muted by the smell of blood and cordite. But as the air vented, it came back to him, more pungent than before.

It was the familiar smell of sex, the musk of female excitement. A wolf female to be exact, it was different than that of a sheep or a sheepdog. Stronger, more intoxicating. Brute felt his head spin as he followed it to the remaining couch, where he found a pair of panties. A silky, lace edged garment crusty with cum that he had no doubt was Raoke's.

The scent of femininity lingered. Three women, Raoke guessed as he sniffed at the flanking cushions. Each laced with pent up arousal that made the tip of Brute's cock peek out of its sheath almost involuntarily. A harem of wolfen women if Brute was forced to guess. And if the women were still on base...

"I have an idea," Brute called out of the team over the radio. "If we can draw Raoke back to the compound we can finish the job."

There was a click as Baddy responded this time. The clatter of assault rifle fire followed his voice into the microphone.

"Are you high? How the hell are we going to lure the bad-guy 'towards' the blaring alarms and gunfire!?"

"Raoke has a harem on base," Brute explained. "If I can find them I can convince the general double back."

"So fucking what!? That douche-nozzle probably has side-chicks all over the place. Why would he care if we hold this harem hostage?"

"I'll make him care, don't you worry about that."

With that, Brute brought his rifle up to his shoulder, then left the office; his nose following the alluring feminine scent.

V

"Brute!?" Tacco shouted over the clatter of gunfire and bullets whizzing over his helmet. "Brute!"

When there was no response, Tacco cursed bitterly, then sat upright again. He was knelt behind a concrete barrier which was taking enemy rounds and spitting clouds of dust into the air. Tacco's response was much more reserved. And as a result of his slow, carefully placed single shots, he was also more accurate.

The low light and the fact Flash was systematically putting rounds through the floodlight system made him hard to spot, the suppressor hiding muzzle flash even more so. And Tacco's night vision goggles made the wolves easy to identify.

Three shots coughed out of his rifle, and three wolves dropped out of sight, convincing the rest to slide back into cover.

The corvus drones buzzing this way and that were less easily convinced to fuck off, and with surprise Tacco saw one rush his left flank, sensors blinking and the firearm dangling from its belly racking in preparation to fire.

"Oh, shi-...!" was all Tacco could say as he turned. He wasn't fast enough, not by any margin...

"Ante up!" a familiar voice yelled before a shower of sparks exploded across the corvus drone's armoured casing. Several rounds passed through the electronics, shredding the delicate rotors and the device dropped like a brick, clattering behind the concrete barrier Tacco used for cover and out of sight.

A moment later Baddy appeared at his side, the ever loyal right hand of freedom as loud as he was deadly. Baddy braced is rifle on the concrete barrier, and without even wincing as wolfen bullets hissed past his helmet, the Malinois laid into their positions with long streams of curses and ammunition.

As he fired, his suppressor steaming as the moisture and snow that gathered on the tube evaporated, the can on the muzzle muted the shots just enough so Baddy was able to shout over the noise, "Boss! This shit's got nuts in it!"

Jade, who took cover a little further down the line, pointed a thumb at Baddy in agreement. "I'm with stupid! We should blow the generators, at least get these drones off our tails!"

She was talking sense. Hell, it was the best idea he'd heard all night. Brute was off doing Shepherds only knew what, and they were about to be stupidly outnumbered and yellow-bus special levels of outgunned.

That being said, Tacco had a better idea. Brute did say he could lure the objective back into the theatre. And if there was one weird thing the two of them had in common, it was the fact neither of them liked to lose. If Brute had an idea to turn this mission around, they had to at least give him a chance.

So that meant buying time. Not something they had in droves, but still something they could probably order in if they played smart.

"Rex, if I get you to the servers can you make these drones our friends!?"

Tacco's question took the tech specialist by surprise, and it was a moment before Rex fumbled for the radio controls on his plate carrier to answer. "Uh, yeah! Gimme like ten minutes or so?"

"Ten minutes!?" Baddy screeched over the rattle of his assault rifle. "Those are rookie numbers, Rex! You gotta cut those numbers in half!"

"That's not how the line goes!" Jade interjected.

"Fuckin' sue me, woman!"

Tacco in the meantime gestured Kilpo for a base line of suppressing fire then turned to the others. "Break contact by fireteam! Peel-it!"

With the Bulldog laying down a hailstorm of ammunition on the wolves gathering to overrun their position, Baddy leapt to his feet and patted Jade on the shoulder as he ran around behind her. Each of the sheepdogs from Warlock yelled 'bounding!' while fireteam Cleric belted out 'suppressing!' alongside a stream of harsh language and ammunition.

---

VI

The guards were dead before they knew what hit them.

Two took a hail of rounds and dropped in the corridor. The third just about managed to get into the common room threshold before Brute shot him in the back.

Stepping over the dead wolf in the doorway, Brute planted his foot on the head and slid the corpse out into the hall, before shutting the door behind him and turning the lock. The firefight outside was so muffled, and the harem of wolf women so quiet in the shock of the moment, the metallic click was almost deafening.

"You must be the general's toys," Brute said simply, hanging his weapon from the sling and crossing the room. There wasn't much furniture. A few couches, coffee tables and most dominant was the pool table in the middle that Brute paused by. "Don't suppose you have him on speed-dial."

The two younger wolves shrank back. Each of them was a woman in her prime, with the exception of the matriarch. She was a bit older than the other two, but no less gorgeous, her slender athletic body partially shrouded in a flimsy gown that fell open at the front. Not that it'd be modest even if she had bothered to tie the sash about her slender waist.

There was a leather collar around her throat, home to a golden tag that read 'Cleo.'

The younger wolves wore similar collars, and were otherwise naked, silver tags reading 'Nymph' and 'Velvet' respectively.

The younger of the three clutched her more athletic sister's arm, speaking quickly and softly in a voice that shook ever so slightly.

"Is he here to help?" Velvet whispered. "Maybe he's from a rival pack?"

"He certainly smells like a wolf." Nymph started to say with a smirk across her muzzle, her eyes sliding down Brute's body and lingering around his crotch.

"He's a sheepdog," Cleo snarled venomously, cutting across her underlings. "A lapdog of the flock."

Cleo made a point of setting her hands on her hips, drawing her robe back even further, unabashed by the way her perky breasts stood out in this austere, yet seductive pose. "What do you want with us, sheepdog? Aren't you above slaughtering unarmed women?"

"Just want a few words with your boss," Brute said, and he nodded to a nearby laptop. "Call him."

None of the wolves did anything. At least not until Brute growled and repeated the order with a bark.

Velvet seemed the youngest of the trio. She had a curvy, hourglass figure, breasts larger than her peers jiggling as she jolted, then quickly did as ordered. Cleo growled at her for breaking so easily, but the young wolfess paid it no mind, turning on the laptop and establishing a link.

When the screen lit up, General Raoke's face was the first thing to fill it. A fierce looking wolf, his dark fur greying about the eyes giving his aspect an even more daggers glare than usual. His uniform was buttoned up tight and neatly presented, much like his groomed fur. There was helicopter noise in the background, indicating he was still in flight.

"What is it!?" he started, snapping so sharply that Velvet recoiled again and shrank away from the laptop. As she cleared the webcam and Brute fell into view, the general's aspect shifted slightly. Like his kin, he didn't have any expressions other than a predatory glare, but the way his head cocked it was clear to see confusion in his eyes. "And what in the name of the Blessed Moon is this?"

"The future," Brute growled, glaring back at the wolf. "Turn your butt around and fly back to the compound to face me, general. Or else."

Raoke looked brute up and down and scoffed. "No. No, I don't think I will."

"If you have any love for your harem here, you'll do it."

That made Raoke laugh almost sadistically. "What? You think they're special to me? Go ahead and kill them. I have plenty more women to satisfy my needs. Quite a few of them your precious sheep, in fact." A wicked grin spread across his muzzle. The grin of a man planning to do disturbing things to innocent people as soon as he came off this call.

"I'm not going to kill them," Brute said, slowly panning his gaze to the women. As he did, he opened the front of his pants where the tip of his cock was already peeking out of its sheath. Inch by inch his erection grew, clearing his belt and curling up until the tip was about level with his abdomen.

Even General Raoke looked taken aback, staring with wide eyes as the sheepdog's engorged cock was freed from its cloth prison. The young women in particular started to drool, Velvet quickly licking at her lips while Nymph's hand fell over the dribbling cleft between her thighs.

Cleo did her best to maintain her austere expression, but failed miserably. Her eyes flitted side to side, taking in every inch of the massive cock before her, dwarfing every single one she'd serviced over her decades of loyal service to her pack.

"I'm going to fuck these bitches of yours in a way they've never been fucked before. For the first time in their lives, they're going to be satisfied. I'm taking your property, general," Brute added with a sly smirk. "Unless you come here and take it back from me."

Looking back at the women he saw an immediate tonal shift in each of them. Velvet had gone from fearful to intrigued, her mouth hanging open as she gaped at the large red totem before her. As she shrank to the floor submissively on hands and knees, Nymph immediately followed suit, licking her chops as her eyes followed the rigid bob of the excited member.

"You can come to me or I will come to you. Makes no difference to me," he told the women.

Cleo didn't move, snarling at the two younger wolves as they crawled on all fours towards Brute. Their wide hips swayed elegantly with every step, gingerly working their way closer hoping this wasn't some sort of trick. Raoke was in the background yelling at the harem, then shouting at his pilot to turn the helicopter around and head back.

But it did little to discourage the two young wolfen women as they propped themselves up on their knees, experimentally stroked their slender fingers from the tapered tip of his length down to the base, before smothering their hot new toy in loving kisses...

VII

Rounds hissed through the compound lobby and cratered the far wall. Tacco and fireteam Warlock were covering the front. Cleric was on hacking duty. And true to Rex's word, it didn't take much longer than ten minutes.

"All set! I'm flipping the switch!"

Tacco kept his rifle up as he leaned out into the doorway. The lot outside was already swarming with wolves, taking cover around the various planters and barricades used to fortify the compound. As much as a killzone it was out there, the wolves made up for lack of tactics with sheer numbers.

Even the sheepdogs of Spartan Company holding the Thermopylae gorge against a wolfen charge fell eventually.

Tacco managed to pop off a few more rounds, watching a wolf rushing the compound doors keel forward and eat shit. Then they turned.

The corvus drones that had been harassing them so far - buzzing up, dumping a mag on the sheepdogs then quickly darting off to reload before any of them could respond by swatting it out of the sky - they turned. Muzzle flashes rippled among the lines of wolves as the drones turned on their former masters. Guns swivelled but it was too late.

In less than a few seconds dozens of wolves were laid out, then the corvus drones turned with mechanical precision and pressed to assault the main gates from which re-enforcements streamed, handing out lead-core party favours in unrelenting streams.

Cleric joined them in the lobby when Tacco turned and gestured his sheepdogs to move. "Push to the gate! Move!"

Weapons shouldered, they fanned out of the compound foyer. Each sheepdog moved just short of a sprint, laying down accurate fire at the same time. Cleric would pause in cover to open up a barrage of auto fire, allowing Warlock to lower guns and sprint to the next piece of cover. Then they would cycle, Warlock taking over cover fire so Cleric could sprint up.

Bounding and shooting, they dominated the compound's lot in no time, drones holding the front line and boxing in the wolves, cutting off opportunities to flank.

Tacco took a hefty concrete planter home to some mountain flower beds, dropping short bursts into enemies at the front gate who dared pop their heads up. Baddy caught up a second later, but as he did one of the wolves lifted a rifle over his head and let loose a short burst.

With a grunt, Baddy was thrown off his feet and crumpled, Tacco quickly swivelling to pound a dozen rounds into the wolf who just took a shot.

"Man down!"

"On it!" Jade cried as she broke off fireteam Cleric and slid on her knees by Baddy's side.

Under her, Baddy groaned. "Fuckin', ouch!"

It didn't take Jade very long to check the downed sheepdog. There was no blood, just a lot of wind knocked out of him. "Don't be such a baby! Vest caught it! Get up!"

She grabbed him by the vest that had saved his life and pulled Baddy to his feet, where he punched his fallen rifle's forward assist twice to make sure the bolt was in battery, then resumed shooting.

"Since we're probably gonna die," Baddy commented with a strange sense of optimism, "I gotta make a confession."

Jade, sticking to his side as she shot back at the wolves, laughed despite herself. "Uh-oh. This oughta be good."

"Remember that sheep journalist I was assigned to escort on the base last month?"

Jade gaped. "Oh, no, Baddy! You didn't!"

"I couldn't help myself. She's hot."

"She's a sheep!"

"She's hot!"

"But she's a sheep!"

"But she's hot!"

A flower of fire and shrapnel blossomed a dozen metres to their right, forcing the duo down beneath the planter. Both took the moment to reload, Jade slotting a fresh mag into her rifle before tucking the half-spent magazine back into her tac-vest.

"Since we're in a sharing mood... I fucked him," she said out of the blue.

"Who?" Baddy asked, flicking the spent mag from his rifle with a flick, then just as quickly slapping its replacement in place.

"Brute. Behind the rocks, earlier."

"Shepherds above! Really? What was that like?"

"Big! It's a good thing I do yoga."

Baddy screamed, emptying his rifle into a wolf who charged through the suppressing fire. "AAAAAAH!!! Information overload! Too much knowledge! I regret asking!"

The wolf infantry retreated not long after, pulling back down the mountain and out of sight, with the corvus drones holding the line... at least for a few moments.

The drones suddenly swarmed back onto the compound grounds as if warning for danger. Then the gatehouse exploded into a cloud of black smoke. The explosion shuddered in Tacco's chest cavity, and caught him off guard like the rest of his team. They flinched collectively into cover, and when they popped back up, there was the squeal of grinding threads and the roar of a diesel engine.

Cresting the summit where the road dropped down to the hillside was the armoured nose of a wolf tank, rearing up over the edge of the hill, then rolling forward until it sat level, smoking barrel of a main cannon leering at the sheepdogs.

The tanks had arrived.

With a grimace, Baddy threw Tacco a look that oozed sarcasm."Gee! Sure would be nice if we had a guy capable of tearing tanks apart with his bare hands down here to help!"

VIII

The foundations shook as a high explosive round tore into one of the smaller offices, tearing chunks out of the compound like a predator ripping a gibbet of flesh from its prey. And yet Nymph and Velvet were not discouraged from their efforts.

The younger wolf dominated the tip, Nymph's hands clamped high on the shaft either side while her jaw practically unhinged to thrust her mouth down over the pulsing glans. Velvet at the same time worked her way from the bottom up, her own hands very busy between her own thighs where she knelt under Brute, face turned up to plant loving kisses across his hefty balls, then a series of wet smooches along the underside of his shaft.

Cleo in the meantime watched from across the room like a jaded cuckquean, her gaze low and her eyes narrowed angrily. Her arms were crossed, firmly like her thighs, as if denying everyone in the room access to her privates, despite how they tingled and cawed for attention.

"When the general gets here, you'll both face grave punishment," Cleo snapped tersely.

But one look at her made Brute huff. He could see the lust in her eyes, and no matter how tightly she crossed her legs, there was no keeping her tail from lifting high, almost flush against her arched back while a small trickle from her furry labia sent a fresh scent of arousal into the air, mingling with the scent of these two younger sluts.

Glancing over, Brute made sure General Raoke was still on the call. The wolf's face was still framed on the laptop screen, glaring with his jaw so tense he might crack a tooth.

"I can tell why you like these girls," Brute growled with a sly grin. "Just sucking my dick and they're wet as fuck. The scent is making my head spin, actually. You girls ever get this hot for Raoke?"

The way Nymph giggled said it all. Swirling her tongue around the tip of her delicious new toy, she lapped up a bead of precum that had formed on the glans and gulped it down like a shot of whiskey.

"How could I get hot for that pinky the general calls a cock?" she asked, curling her small finger for added effect. "That tiny thing barely scrapes my sides. But this wonderful thing?" She shuddered, weighing Brute's girthy length in both hands. She was salivating, spit literally dripping from her tongue as she rubbed her muzzle over the top of the length. "I've never been more wet for anything in my life. I can't wait for this thing to stretch me out."

"You'll get your turn, soon enough," Brute assured her, patting her on the head.

She shuddered with excitement again, then re-joined Velvet in licking and kissing the thick red spear of demi-shepherd cock. Lances of pleasure shot through Brute's loins, and his length throbbed as he clenched, squeezing out another little spurt of precum that dribbled over the top of Nymph's muzzle as she balanced the tip on her nose, playfully licking the sensitive underside.

Though he was enamoured by the sight of two enthusiastic young women, Raoke still seething on the vid-call didn't escape his notice.

"You could have hung up the call any time, general. I think maybe you want to see your women get a proper fuck for once in their lives, hmmm?"

"What I want is to see you die, lapdog," the wolf spat venomously, staring Brute down through the screen. "I want to watch you cry like a bleeding infant as my tanks' treads crush your empty skull! Any moment they'll come rolling in and I'll get to watch you beg for your life!"

"Whatever gets you hard, general. But those tanks aren't getting past my team," Brute stated confidently as he thrust between Nymph and Velvet's mouths a little more.

Taking Nymph by the arm as her mouth worked its way down his shaft again, he scooped the slimmer, lighter wolf up like she weighed nothing. Which in Brute's opinion, was pretty much right.

Flipping her upside down so her thighs hooked onto his shoulders was as easy as manipulating his rifle. She hung for a moment, surprised, before moving her lips back to his cock, caressing the shaft with dutiful eagerness. Though as soon as her lovely looking slit, percolating with excitement was in front of his face, filling his senses with her arousal, Brute darted his muzzle forward and tucked into her cunt like a fat kid to a hamburger. He didn't even let her contemplate his warm breath on her cunny so she could anticipate what was about to happen. It came down on her, all at once as he began feasting like a savage.

The vaguely salty flesh was smooth and delicious, yielding under his powerful tongue as her soft labia parted eagerly for him. But the sounds Nymph made in response to him licking her down her slit from clit to opening, then back up again, were even more delightful. Basking in her joy made his cock throb harder against her mouth than before.

Her licks on Brute's cock were barely focused at this point as her back arched and curled back and forth, delightful little moans escaping her throat; going by the general's livid expression, sounds he had never heard her make before.

Velvet in the meantime took to the tip in Nymphs absence, finally getting her taste of his precum. She moaned like she was sampling the most delicious chocolate lava cake, her eyes rolling with pleasure as she licked it all up and gulped down great big greedy mouthfuls.

But even so, the way Brute was making Nymph moan against his cock, there was palpable jealousy in Velvet's eyes. It was almost worse than that in Cleo's gaze.

The older woman leaned forward, almost as if trying desperately to hold herself back from lunging into the party. Her legs uncrossed as her resolve melted way, seeing one of her girls get satisfied in a way she hadn't been in such a long time. How long had it even been since she'd felt a tongue explore her folds? Her charges were powerful men like the general, and there were many to be sure, but all of them were more interested in their own pleasure rather than hers. It was her duty to give, of course. But here stood a sheepdog. A mongrel mutt, an enemy! Yet even with two tongues worshipping his rod to the point of bursting, he still took the time to pleasure one of the women with his own mouth?

To say she was jealous was seriously under-selling it. And she wasn't the least bit subtle about how her thighs opened and her fingers delved into her dripping snatch with a fitful, darting motion. The tingle of pleasure she gave herself was nothing compared to the warm, roiling waves rippling through Nymph's convulsing body. The girl was bucking her nethers into Brute's muzzle, crying out with joy against the top of his throbbing shaft. Her hands stretched out down his thighs, clawing into the ripstop fatigues while her toes curled in the air with pleasure.

At the same time he seemed to catch Cleo with her fingers knuckle deep into her yearning canal, and Brute smirked with a smug sense of satisfaction.

... fuck it.

Cleo could take no more. And ignoring the way Raoke raged and screamed at her, the matriarch slipped from her perch, landing lightly on her footpaws, before sinking all the way to the ground. That austere glare was replaced with a small grin. Nothing too eager. But the way her eyelids narrowed at Brute told him well enough that he'd won.

Though to her surprise he didn't seem to rub it in. His smug grin faded and half paying attention to Nymph's sodden pussy, half watching Cleo, he eyed the matriarch with keen interest as she sank submissively onto hands and knees, then crawled over, inches at a time with flowing motions closer to that of a stalking feline than a predatory wolf. Her shoulders eased back and forth as she clawed forward and let the salacious motions ripple down her spine, sending her wide, round hips into an alluring back-and-forth sway that whipped her tail happily in time.

On Raoke's side of the call, the general was on the verge of tossing his own computer out the helicopter window as he watched Cleo add her mouth to Brute's immense cock, worshipping the length with decades of skill.

The way Roake was barking at his pilot to hurry had Brute smiling into Nymph's pussy. So far so good. Though he wondered if Tacco fared as well outside.

IX

Overpressure forced the wind out of Tacco's lungs, and the shockwave swept him sideways off his feet, throwing the sheepdog into the side of a pre-fab structure. The crash was hard enough to leave a Tacco-shaped dent before he tumbled to the deck, and immediately half crawled, half dragged himself around the back of a concrete barrier.

The fifty-cal on the tank's roof lit up while the main cannon reloaded, ripping through the barrier Tacco used for cover, punching fist sized holes through the concrete just above his head. Making sure to keep his tail tucked down against his leg and his head low, Tacco kept crawling until he rounded behind a planter filled with a few hundred litres of dirt, just enough to render the penetrating capacity of the fifty null.

With a sigh, he sat up and transferred his rifle into his lap, looking over to see the rest of Warlock sitting next to him. Baddy had his mouth open to say something about them getting their asses kicked, but Tacco quickly held up a finger to stop him.

"Not. A. Fucking. Word."

Baddy didn't have to say anything, because Flash said it for him. "Infantry is doubling back!" he called on comms from the second floor window in the compound somewhere. "We're gonna get overrun!"

Tacco immediately reacted, looking for fireteam Cleric. "Kilpo, I need that tank dead!"

"No can do, boss. That fifty's got us pinned!"

True to Kilpo's word, the fifty-cal on that tank's roof wasn't letting up, chucking round after round in an endless stream of hatred. If it didn't let up, Kilpo wasn't going to get the time he needed to deploy an anti-tank rocket.

And using the tank for cover, the wolves were streaming back onto the compound grounds. Tacco had to do something, and do it fast.

Without thinking he shouted "Cover me!" and ran towards the right flank. It took the other sheepdogs a moment before they realised what he was doing before they popped up to suppress as best they could.

By which time Tacco was out in the open, enemy rounds hissing dangerously close to his body. But he was already halfway to a semi-circular embankment of sandbags, in the middle of which the wolfen sentries had erected a tripod. And atop the metal construction, hidden behind a pair of steel shields, sat a fifty-cal turret of his own.

Vaulting over the side of the sandbags, Tacco dropped his rifle in the sling, braced his shoulders against the mounted gun's twin buttstocks and pulled the trigger. His whole body shuddered as round after round thudded out the barrel, shaking his teeth in their sockets as he raked fire across the wolfen lines. They were starting to stream in, before their mass of bodies turned to lumpy paint. Bullets sparked across the tank's armour as he worked his way up, crouching a little to angle the shots onto the roof of the tank where the gunner convulsed, large chunks of meat ripped form his torso leaving him almost entirely torn in half before what remained slumped across the top of the tank and the whole slippery mess slid back inside to join the hell-shocked crew.

Return fire came in the form of small arms, pinging against the mounted gun's shielding and smacking into the sand bags with puffs of dust. Tacco raked fire back through the massing wolves trying to push past the tank.

At the same time in the corner of his eye he spotted the back blast of an anti-tank launcher. Kilpo was perched on the roof of a pre-fab, his aim angled down so he could put a missile on the roof of the tank. The result was immediate.

The armoured vehicle popped like a firecracker, Kilpo somehow managing to get the rocket in though the open gunner's hatch, blowing the tank apart from the inside. The nearest wolves turned to chum with a mixture of shrapnel, thumb sized bullets from Tacco's fifty and sheer overpressure of the blast that had enough force to make everyone falter.

In the quiet that followed, they couldn't help celebrate though. The sheepdogs whooped as the infantry petered out for another retreat and the remains of the tank burned like a celebratory bonfire.

"Yeah! Tank down!"

Then they remembered the whole point of keeping the op as silent as possible. With a groan of engines and metal treads running over the remains of the fallen, a second tank rolled around the column of smoke that used to be it's armoured brother. And rolling around that one, flattening several sections of fence and concrete barricades, was the third tank they'd been warned of in the briefing.

Kilpo immediately chimed back into comms with a tone of sarcastic relief. "Oh, never mind. They got more!"

Tacco was already off the X, and ran across the clearing. Somewhere behind him his emplacement exploded, and the force of the blast threw him forwards in a stumble. Windmilling his arms, he managed to stay on his feet, but made the mistake of looking back.

Kilpo spent his last anti-tank launcher on the second tank, but this time the shot bounced off armour and exploded in the air somewhere above. He tried to pop a grenade, for all the good it would do, when small arms fire picked up gain. Re-motivated, wolves started streaming around and between the two fresh tanks, shooting as they ran, forcing Kilpo off the roof while the rest of the sheepdogs struggled to suppress.

"Fall back! Back to the compound for cover!" Tacco cried.

They moved with less organisation than before. Tired and desperate the sheepdogs picked up and ran. Enemy fire thickened as the wolves took a beachhead and started swatting the remaining corvus drones out of the air.

Then it would be the sheepdogs' turn.

Rex was clutching his arm, blood seeping between his fingers as he ran. Kilpo was limping, either having taken a bullet or sprained something where he leapt off the pre-fab structure in a hurry, Tacco couldn't tell.

Jade paused to cover Tacco as he ran past, then she screamed and fell clutching a hole in her calf that hadn't been there a moment ago. Tacco was about to double back, but as usual Baddy was right where the sheepdog alpha needed his right arm to be.

Baddy scooped up Jade in one fell swoop, and with the woman drawing her pistol to shoot back at the wolves, he ran her right up to the compound before unceremoniously dumping her on the deck in order to get his rifle back up.

They'd busted their assess securing the compound's lot, only to have it taken away from them in half the time. And staring down the barrels of two tanks, Tacco honestly couldn't see them taking it back.

X

Brute pressed the assault, breaking down the gate and in his typical fashion, attacked straight down main-street.

Cleo's reaction was instant. Her back arched off the pool table, legs splayed out as wide as she could hold them, while the bulge of Brute's cock worked its way under her mons and up into her belly. Her wet labia were stretched tight around the bright red shaft of his member as it worked into her wet canal, filling the woman to her core and making her cry out.

The older wolfen mistress' eyes crossed as her tongue rolled out her muzzle. Her nails were raking into the lime green felt of the table, ruining the expensive surface, but gaining enough purchase that she didn't slide right off the other side as Brute's girth forced its way into her body.

Her gown lay in a forgotten pool somewhere on the floor behind Brute, as she took on a similarly limp, puddle like consistency, trembling with orgasm after orgasm as the immense sheepdog pulled out, then slid back in against her cervix. The pace was slow and sensual, almost romantic, as Brute made sure she would feel every inch, poke and prod every hidden depth, provoke the previously unscratched ich that burned deep in Cleo's core.

While Cleo's face was a blank mask of pleasure, her soft, ghostly moans of pleasure were muted by the mindless screeching of her younger peers. Both girls lay either side of their matriarch, singing their praises at the ceiling while pinching and twisting at their bare, erect nipples; given Brute's fingers were somewhat engaged.

Nymph lay lazily on her back, thighs spread wide and knees pulled up towards her perky breasts where her fingers fidgeted with the dark nipples. Her gaze was turned to watch Cleo, while Brute's thick fingers pumped in and out of her wet snatch with soft, wet sopping noises. She was moaning, but at the same time growled impatiently at her mistress who was getting priority on the wonderful cock stuffed in her.

On the opposite side, Velvet lay face down on the pool-table where a glistening puddle of drool was beginning to form as her ass stuck up into the air and tail lifted high letting Brute thrust his thick fingers in and out of her tight snatch, while the tip of his thumb teased the opening of her winking ass. Her footpaws scratched weakly at the floor where her thighs were wrapped about the corner of the pool table, pressing her clit against the polished leather so she could feel the vibrations of bombardment ripple up through the foundations of the compound and into her sensitive little nub of flesh that was begging for more with every passing moment.

Her legs went from limp to tense in a moment as another bombardment sent pleasant vibes up through the pool table leg, against her sensitive button. A tremor ran through her long legs, blissful moans passing her lips as her nether regions began squirting uncontrollably on Brute's digits, the same way the wolfen mistress creamed for the third time in just a few minutes all over his cock.

Wet torrents of Cleo's final orgasm dribbled down Brute's balls as the woman gave a cry of finality, punctuated by a pained yelp. Sensitive and fucked raw, she set a hand on his stomach, begging for mercy.

"Please... fuck, please~! By the moon, have mercy. No more. I can't take anymore. If I cum one more time I'll turn into a withered husk!" she punctuated the statement with a warm smile and a giggle. As silly as it sounded, she honestly felt that might happen.

She could count on one hand how many actual orgasms a man had given her over the course of her life. Now Brute came along and doubled that figure in less than fifteen minutes.

While his hips stopped moving, Brute's fingers still fidgeted in the tight holes of the flanking wolves. Velvet was the next to trip over the finish line. Wailing louder than the general ever made her, even when she faked it, Cleo saw her promising young protégé shudder and convulse against the pool-table. Her eyes jerked open, but only revealed her white sclera as her irises rolled up into the back of her skull.

Quickly scooping the girl into her arms, Cleo planted a firm kiss, her lips parted and offering plenty of tongue, lovingly smooching the younger wolf as both women sighed and moaned into each others' mouths.

In the background Raoke screamed even louder than before. "You dirty fucking lying whore! You cunts never did that for me, even when I demanded it! Cleo, you filthy cum-receptacle! You always said making out with another woman was beneath you!"

Breaking the wonderful kiss, Cleo only let out a long, satisfied breath while a warm blushing smile from the aftermath of all that satisfaction remained plastered over her muzzle. In a sing song little voice that didn't suit the previously austere mistress, she said, "That's only because you never fucked me into the right mood, general."

Brute scoffed, giving the live feed a smirk where Raoke was raging anew. He was yelling at his pilot to push it, ranting about all the ways he wanted to kill the sheepdog and rape the treacherous women.

Let him try. In the meantime, Brute was far from done. "Who's next?"

Before Nymph could right herself, Cleo said, "Velvet first. She's been such a good, patient girl. And I know she'll appreciate the orgasm you'll give her."

Nymph whispered into Cleo's ear. "Oh, but mistress I've been a good girl too. I want to cum on the big cock next. Please, I-..."

"Patience, my dear," Cleo soothed, pulling Velvet into a loving smooch next. "I'll take care of you while you wait. Practice your patience, and I promise it'll feel even more amazing in the end."

Velvet still whimpered around Cleo's tongue sliding between her lips, and secretly threw her sister a jealous glare.

In the meantime the needy young Nymph gazed up at brute, her fingers sliding over the slippery wet shaft of his cock while a burning passion ignited in her eyes. She clearly had no idea what she was in for, but the way she smiled, Nymph seemed eager to find out.

Locking eyes with the furious general, Brute only smirked back as he turned Nymph around, one hand wrapped gently around her delicate throat, the other supporting her midriff. Then as he suspended her in the air, letting her sink inch by inch over his cock, feeling her slippery warmth ease down around his girth and her belly swell against his hand as her body re-arranged itself to accommodate him, Nymph let out a squeal of pleasure, her tongue hanging out the side of her muzzle and her wide, saucer sized eyes crossing as if trying to look at each other.

"O-ooooohhh~!" she cried with a shuddering voice, a tremor that ran down her body and buzzed in her twitching toes.

Before long, he sheathed almost all his cock into the needy wolf. Then he started rolling his hips.

Holding Nymph in place, her feet dangling just a few inches from the ground, legs shuddering feebly beneath her, the cross-eyed wolf let out fresh cries of pleasure as he started fucking her in earnest. Her face was a mask of other-worldly ecstasy as her pussy drooled trails of free flowing desire down his furry balls.

"Moon have mercy, it's so good. So much better than I thought it could be. I haven't... I've never."

General Raoke was punching at one of the consoles to the dismay of his pilot while Brute sniggered. He'd clearly never made the girl feel like this before. Nymph was overwhelmed, dumbfounded and broken by an orgasm that ripped through her body in the form of a warm shudder that sent another sticky waterfall flowing down Brute's balls.

Her moans were only matched by the wet laps of Cleo's tongue against Velvet's cunny, making the other wolf cry out where she squirmed on the pool-table.

Velvet remained a complete slave to Brute's whims until he leaned in and whispered, "Why don't you let the general know what you're thinking? I'm sure he's dying to find out."

"Yes, master," Velvet belted out, louder than she intended, but it hardly mattered. Her head rocked back and forth, body undulating with every thrust that made her ample bosom jiggle nicely until Brute caught one in his hand. "I feel so good. The general's tiny cock will never satisfy me again!"

A little on the nose, but Brute saw the comment had the desired effect, and now the pilot had to physically restrain the general before he broke something and dropped them out of the air.

Shaking the pilot off, the general quickly went back to seething in silence, his eyes only flitting away from the peep show to check his tactical display and see what was keeping the tanks so long.

Another blast ripped through the compound, synching with another orgasmic ripple that had Velvet squirting all down her inner thighs until a small puddle formed just below where her toes hovered above the ground.

Laying her face down on the pool table before she screamed from overstimulation, Brute pulled back, his meaty pole glistening with Velvet's gratification.

Nymph threw herself forward in an instant, sensing it was finally her turn.

"Yes!" the athletic wolf cried and literally launched herself into Brute's arms. She weighted about as much as her sister did, so Brute didn't even stagger. Catching her ass in one hand, he squeezed her tight, athletic flesh while she wrapped her legs around his waist and the tip of his cock lined up with her eager, dripping pussy.

"Hnnpphh!" she grunted into his shoulder, still smiling though. "Big~!"

Then, her muzzle falling open and her eyes widening, she felt her walls stretch around the massive pole invading her body. Only the tip smacked into her trembling little opening, already slippery and eager for him. But at first it seemed like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

"Holy fucking moon!" she hissed, digging her nails into his shoulders and raking through his fatigues.

"More?" Brute asked, earning a smirk from the eager wolf.

"If you stop I'll claw your fucking eyes out!"

With a shrug, Brute steadied himself, planted both hands on her ass, one firmly enveloping each buttocks rather perfectly, then gently but firmly pushed Nymph down over the rest of his pole. She squealed and squirmed, throwing an arm around him. But as she went she caught him by his tac-gear and drew herself down at the same time.

To brute's surprise, it wasn't long before Nymph was hilted all the way down on his cock. Taking more than even her more stretched out, experienced and thoroughly used matriarch. Cleo had been tight to be sure, but nowhere as tight as the young women she presided over. Though stuffing a cock as big as Brute's inside her had made little difference.

All the same, Nymph seemed capable of taking more of it, even with the same overall build as the others in the harem. And she took it with joy.

"Lay down," she hissed in his ear with a grin that went ear to ear. "Let me work this pole like it deserves to be treated."

Without argument, Brute swivelled and sat on the edge of the pool-able, before laying back on his elbows. Then eventually sank down until he was flat on his back.

Nymph in the meantime remained upright, setting her nails into his chest. Chewing her bottom lip and gazing down at him lasciviously, the wolfess planted her footpaws either side of him, knees out and thighs wide in a deep squat.

Then she began to ride. And it was easy to see why General Raoke's temper flared. As he screamed in the background for her to stop what she was doing, Brute let out a long groan as he watched her work like a pro.

Her hands slid up from his chest and rolled over her mid riff where her flat tummy was bulged at the apex of each squad. Brute was holding on to her ankles as she rode smoothly, gyrating her hips and working his cock like she was getting paid to.

At the sounds of her moans, she technically was.

Her hands worked up over her breasts, pausing to pinch her nipples before sliding up further. Her fingers lingered on her cheeks as her eyes rolled and her cute little tongue curled over hr bottom lip. An ahegao expression she knew the general genuinely loved to see on her face as she rode his cock. But this was probably the first time she'd made the expression in earnest as Brute's cock massaged all the previously unloved depths of her needy young body.

It wasn't long before she was a shuddering mess much like the other women. Nymph threw her head back, gaping breathlessly at the ceiling as she slammed herself down, then had to catch two handfuls of Brute's shirt so she would fall backwards and topple from her wonderful perch. Her hips, previously gyrating with skill and care were suddenly bucking erratically back and forth as her tail twitched beyond her control. One eye flickered as her blank gaze of pleasure slowly surfaced from the drunken depths of orgasm.

Her canal quivered about his cock the same way her body squirmed about him. And that was when she felt it press against her quim, stretching her outer lips closer to that breaking point that had her pull back.

A firm bulb a little bigger than her fist was beginning to form at the base of Brute's cock where he shaft met the furry sheath. Usually a welcome sight when she dutifully served the general in his bed, for she knew it was the end of her nightly duties. Though upon seeing the knot grow bigger and bigger on Brute, it left Nymph with a little disappointment. As satisfied as she was creaming all over his massive cock, she kind of wanted more.

But what was coming, was coming, and she wasn't so cruel she'd stop it. After all, he earned a little reciprocation given what he'd done for all three of them, rekindling ancient sensations that had been almost forgotten to them.

With a moan she lifted herself off his cock, her pussy making a sucking, wet pop as her gaping walls struggled to close as she half climbed, half stumbled off the pool-table.

Brute straightened at the same time, still leaned at the edge of the table, as in a similar fashion to earlier Velvet and Cleo crawled closer, swaying their hips seductively and eying him with a carnal need for what was about to happen.

All three women put their mouths back on Brute's cock, licking it clean of Nymph's fresh orgasm that still glistened on the bright red flesh. Working their tongues together on the massive, savoury lollipop, the three of them peered innocently up and were rewarded by the look of effort on Brute's face. He was actively holding back, eyes shut and baring his teeth in a silent snarl.

Except when he looked down, feeling Cleo tease her tongue over the tapered tip of his throbbing erection, now sporting a rigid knot and on the verge of bursting, he saw the glistening, wide eyed looks of lust they were giving him. Egging him on with their gazes, there was no holding back. Brute's head rolled into his neck and he let out a roar more akin to the howl of a wolf than the cry of a sheepdog.

His balls tightened and were almost sucked into his gut like Cleo was sucking the pair of golf-balls out through his urethra, followed by a feeble clench deep within him. A clench that failed to hold back the rush of thick, hot cum running its way up his shaft, then exploding out the tip and across the three wolfen women; whose muzzles hung open, tongues stuck out and tails were wagging with glee.

The aftermath was something truly special to behold. Three naked, gorgeous wolves on their knees, holding up their hands trying to catch as much of the jizz as possible, hosed from their faces down to their thighs, long gloopy trails of pearly white slime oozing down their curvy bodies, pooling in the soft crevasses between their breasts, laid across muzzles, bubbling from nostrils and dripping from tongues. Steam seemed to radiate from the hot, glazed trio forming a hazy aura around them as they just sat there, moaning in dumbfounded joy at what they'd just wrought, their bodies fucked to multiple orgasms and completely hosed in a warm bath of cum as a reward for their efforts.

He would have enjoyed the sight a bit longer when the sounds of a helicopter cut through the battle rocking the compound. Raoke was getting closer, and a glance at the monitor revealed he'd cut the transmission, finally.

Time to get some killing done, he thought to himself taking his leave.

As he went though, Cleo, Nymph and Velvet crawled after him on all fours. They were pleading with him, begging him to stay with them to fuck some more. The way they spoke would make even the most outspoken degenerate blush. And while Brute could feel his cock hardening against the front of his pants hearing the things they described they wanted to do for him, he still had some work to do.

Leaving the common room, he moved down to the compound's lobby, and almost collided with Tacco who was coming the other way. The sheepdog looked messed up, blood dappling his uniform and crusting in his fur. Several near misses grazed his fatigues which were soaking up the blood from gashes that were already scabbing over, and there was clear fatigue in his eyes as his goggles were pushed up into a pair of high-tech antlers on his forehead.

"What the hell happened to you?" Brute said, taken slightly aback at the sight of the roughed up dog.

Tacco looked Brute over in turn, then noted the cum-glazed women practically draping themselves on the Demi-Shepherd. "What happened to me? Fuck you! That's what happened!"

Turning, he beckoned brute to follow down to the lobby. "We got problems. My team is holding back a tide of wolves and an attack helicopter just joined the fray. Any time you feel like helping, it'd be appreciated!"

Down in the lobby, Brute saw the rest of the two fireteams. They were all still breathing, but looked about as bad as Tacco did. Almost all were shot in one way or another, and if not shot they were beat up.

The wounded seated further into the lobby looked up and froze at the sight of the three wolfen women dripping with cum. Several more mobile sheepdogs leaped up with guns ready, barking orders at the trio, before they wrestled Raoke's fresh-fucked harem to the ground and zip-tied them.

Watching from where he was bandaging Jade's leg, Baddy saw Rex pull back, realising that in pushing Cleo to the ground he'd just smeared Brute's cum all down his tac-gear.

Baddy chuckled. "Ugh... gross."

Jade in the meantime ripped the wrapper of a fentanyl lollypop to manage the pain of her leg-wound. She looked the three wolves over, realised at least some of them were having fun in this shit-storm and shrugged.

"Well shit, I might as well die high and without regrets."

"Yeah, totally. I always say-MMMMPPHH!"

Baddy was flat-out cut off by Jade grabbing him by the tac-vest and dragged the sheepdog in close, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

Kilpo groaned somewhere in the background. "Get a room, you two."

Baddy told him that they already were in a room, but with Jade's tongue down his throat it came out more like: 'hrmph mhh nnnthhh mmh hhhmmmmpphh!'

Flash in the meantime chimed in on comms. He was still in the second-floor windows, running from room to room, displacing between every few shots he took at the wolves below. "Heads up, mutts! That helicopter is joining the fray."

"Good," Brute said with a smirk, which made Tacco scoff loudly. "The general is in that chopper. He's right where I want him."

"He's in a heavily armed attack helicopter supported by an infantry battalion and two main battle tanks! How is he where you want him!?"

Brute glanced at the sheepdog team, then back at Tacco. "You've done your part, boss. Take a break while I do mine."

Tacco protested, somewhere behind, but Brute was already out the door, sprinting into a hail of enemy fire.

Bullets slammed into his body and flattened, bursting and dropping away, tearing off chunks of clothing and gear. But underneath, each impact felt no more painful than a paintball on bare skin on a cold day. The rush of warfare pounded heavily in his ears as he squinted, sliding his machine gun to his front and returned the torrent of fire, emptying the weapon into the wolves.

For a moment they were frozen in shock as their fire was ineffective. Then Brute's counter volley ripped through their bodies. Several wolves danced to the beat of his gun, twitching from side to side as a pink mist consumed their bodies and they fell, only for Brute to rake into the next line of hostiles.

The line was broken by the time Brute's gun fell empty at his heels. And by then he ripped into the fleeing wolves with his bare hands.

Fists threw wolves like ragdolls into the air, performing bloody cartwheels before landing in broken heaps. Brute ripped an arm off one wolf with ease and used it to beat the next into a pulp, before policing a pair of fallen assault rifles and emptying them, roaring like a beast as he did, into a gaggle of wolves running the other way.

The boom of a cannon caught his attention and he turned just in time to slap a hefty metal weight out of the air. The high explosive tank round exploded into a planter somewhere behind him, the shockwave forcing Brute to sidestep as he lost balance. As he rose back to his feet though another boom rang out. And this HE round hit him in the chest.

Brute was consumed in a ball of fire that evaporated into a thick pillar of smoke. One minute the sheepdog was there, then next he was not. A black cloud consumed the lot and for a few moments there was reprieve. The clatter of guns settled down and the running wolves faltered, turning in amazement to see if the monster chasing them had indeed been felled.

Smoke curled, then parted like a curtain, from which Brute threw his bulk and flattened the hesitant line of wolves moving to investigate. His shirt had been ripped clean off, leaving him bare chested with a few patches of fur still smouldering. But aside from a few grazes and a bloody lip, Brute was unharmed, and undeterred.

Wolves were thrown aside like bowling pins as Brute thrust forward and collided with the nearest tank. He smashed into the armour, buckling it under his bare fists as he beat, punch by punch like a madman bashing at a drum, digging his way into the nose of the tank. Several bulges jutted out of the armour from the interior of the vessel as it rocked from side to side... then the turret burst open at the top.

There Brute emerged, popping out of the vehicle like an alien chest burster, a wolf crewman in each hand. He proceeded to pound the two wolves into each other - once, twice, three times, by which time there was nothing left but two bloodied pulps that he discarded like used rags.

He then tore the fifty-cal that had harassed the sheepdogs earlier off the remnants of the tank's roof and emptied it into the wolves running for cover.

Explosions ripped across the gutted tank before he could get properly stuck in however, and the blasts threw him off the roof and into the tarmac. Grunting, Brute looked up to see the silhouette of Raoke's personal attack helicopter soar overhead.

Fucker.

He was going to pay for that, and glancing over as the final tank was trying to shift into full reverse, Brute immediately figured out how.

Rolling to his feet, Brute leapt into the side of the tank, and much like the first, tore into the vehicle. Only this time, instead of the crew, he was more interested in the bulk of the craft. A sheet of armour tore free like tissue paper, and Brute hucked it at the helicopter which was starting to come around. The jagged frizbee curled through the air, but the pilot tugged at the collective and the helicopter climbed over the projectile.

The toss was immediately followed up by the tank's immense engine, thrown with a perfect spiral.

The pilot, again, reacted by working the collective. Power dropped away and with a spin around the axis, the helicopter made a nimble drop underneath the second shot Brute took.

As he spiralled though, the pilot didn't see Brute's third shot.

No sooner had he thrown the tank engine, he grabbed the bent cannon, tore the turret clean off the roof and whirled around once, throwing it into the air with barely any effort. The panicked gunner was still aboard as the turret left the earth, and the wolf let out something akin to the Wilhelm scream as he was tossed from the tank-turned-projectile and went plummeting into the mountainside below.

The turret however blind-sided the pilot and rear ended the helicopter, tearing the entire tail section off in one go.

Despite the fact he'd just murdered his way through an infantry battalion and several tanks, leaving the survivors scarred in ways that didn't always show; at the sight of that tail being ripped off the helicopter Brute cried out in triumph and punched the sky like a teenager who'd just rolled a natural twenty in Dungeons and Dragons.

Dropping unceremoniously out of the sky as if from tonal whiplash, the helicopter slammed into the tarmac with a crunch and slid to a halt just a dozen metres from where Brute stood.

Moving around the side of the wreck, feeling the fire of fuel burning off hot against the side of his face, Brute saw movement. Several pieces of debris on the far side of the chopper shifted, and a cockpit door flopped outward, General Raoke, bloody and broken with it.

Ducking, Brute moved into the troop compartment of the downed helicopter, pushing through a tangle of wires and sparking electronics. The pilot had somehow crawled back there and drew a pistol, letting off several shots that hit Brute in the chest like hammerblows. But like the many other bullets that hit him that night, they flattened agiasnt his fur and barely left a mark.

Grabbing the pilot around the throat, he punched the wolf's muzzle into the back of his head, then Brute pushed his way out the far end of the helicopter, following the bloody streak Raoke left as he crawled away.

It didn't take much to catch up to the bloodied general, and when he did Brute kicked the man onto his back, revealing a piece of jagged shrapnel jutting out of his gut, blood crusting the fur around his mouth and one eye closed with more blood seeping between his eyelids. His remaining eye was wide with terror, silently pleading for mercy.

"W-wait! Wait, just wait," the general pleaded, holding up one hand as if to shield himself. "I'm more valuable alive. I know secrets. Troop positions. High value targets and where they meet. I can be of use. I can-..."

"Nah," Brute growled, cutting through the tedious bullshit. This wasn't a fetch operation.

Dropping to one knee, he wrapped his arms around Raoke's neck, the wolf letting out a pathetic whimper as the Brute pulled like he was uncorking a victory champagne.

XI

The ride back to the FOB wasn't particularly long, it just felt that way doubled over in the cramped extraction helicopter. When they finally landed, Brute was just glad to step out onto the tarmac and stretch out his back, feeling - and hearing - several joints pop as he flexed.

At the same time he waved ff the medics rushing to the helicopter, gesturing them to help the rest of the wounded sheepdogs out. Those who couldn't walk were carried and supported for the trip to the medical tent, with the exception of Jade.

She still had the stick of her fentanyl lollypop sticking out the corner of her mouth and let out a drunken "Weeee!" as Baddy carried her alongside the others.

Sheepdogs from a military police division took possession of Raoke's harem. Cleo, Nymph and Velvet were secured with zip cuffs, but it did nothing to dissuade them from pleading with Brute. They apparently wanted him to be the one to interrogate them, and Brute didn't have to wonder what they really meant when they said they wanted to be 'interrogated.'

Cleo tried to wriggle out of the MP's grip as she was escorted to the brig, calling out to Brute that she'd always be ready for his cock. This drew a few odd looks from nearby sheepdogs helping secure the rowdy, horny prisoners with unusually crusty fur.

Tacco was the last man off the helicopter. The engines had died down at this point as the pilot powered everything off for the maintenance crews, and Brute could hear the Malinois sigh deeply.

"Something wrong?" Bute asked.

Tacco didn't say anything. He only stiffened, standing to attention, and Brute caught on quickly enough to do the same.

The captain was on them in an instant. The uniformed sheep had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, and swung around Brute's broad bulk to get in Tacco's face. Nearby the helicopter engines had gone quiet, but the shouting got loud.

"What the hell happened?" the captain shouted. "You went completely off mission!"

Tacco stood a little more upright. "Sir, the situation was fluid. We were forced to improvise."

"Improvise!? You're lucky to be alive, you stupid dog! And worse, your actions put the Demi-Shepherd project at risk." The sheep gestured to Brute who frowned with a little bit of confusion. "This was a shakedown mission! In and out, and if things got hot, you were supposed to bug out."

"News to me," Brute started to growl but Tacco glanced up and they locked eyes. Brute fell quiet immediately, curious what the team alpha was going for here.

"The intel was off, sir," Tacco continued calmly. "The target was off-site, so we took steps to force him on-site. We had to act, or we'd lose him for Shepherds only knows how long. Maybe even for good. I ordered Brute to take action. To do what he was made to do. And in the end, the mission as successful."

"Successful? You don't even have a confirmation of the kill!"

"Actually..." Tacco swung the sling pack he had on his side to his front, opened the flap, then with a handful of matted, bloody hair, he pulled a head from the bag.

Raoke's features had sunk since Brute tore his head off. There was a ragged stump where the neck should have been, his jaw hanging open slightly and a tongue which was turning black already rolled out the side of his mouth. The eyes were rolled, milky and stark white with one eyelid slightly further open than the other. The aspect was gruesome and disgusting enough that the sheep captain jumped back a step and collided with Brute, who was unmoved.

If anything, he had himself a secret little grin of pride for his work. And Tacco had certainly been impressed enough with his ability to improvise a kill-confirmation that he actually held on to the head.

Swallowing bile and visible shook, the captain quickly collected himself. With narrowed eyes he seethed, "I'll be having your rank markings for this, mutt!" Then he stormed off.

"What an asshole," Brute growled in the silence that followed.

"Finally, something we agree on."

Confused, Brute added, "Why didn't you just put it on me? You could have just told the captain I was the one who went off-mission."

Thinking for a moment, Tacco gave a shrug. "Yeah, you did. But I'm team leader. Shit slides down-hill and I'm the embankment. The captain won't do shit. General Raoke is dead. Job done."

"And if the captain does follow through?"

Tacco shrugged again. "General Raoke is still dead. Job's still done. Good enough for me. And don't worry about the captain. He'll report me to the higher ups, get his commendation for exemplary code of conduct. I'll get a slap on the wrist, and everything goes back to normal."

They were quiet for a moment, then Tacco said, "You did good, roid rage. Your methods need some refining, but you did good."

"Thanks." Brute paused, then admitted, "And I wouldn't have been able to do it without you watching my back. Those tanks would have rolled over me long before I managed to lure Raoke back to the compound."

"Yeah, they would've. Shit, I shoulda let them!" Tacco said with a chuckle, making Brute join in. "C'mon. Let's get out of this gear. I think it's about bone-o'clock."

Brute grinned. He could very much go for an ice-cold bone brew right now. Following Tacco into the FOB buildings, he massaged his chest where he'd taken that tank round earlier.

"That last explosion really roughed me up," he admitted, wincing with pain.

Tacco laughed.

"Hey, we all got fucked up back there. If you can't take a little old tank round to the chest, Brute, maybe you're not cut out for this shit."

"Har-har," the larger sheepdog chuckled sarcastically.

They had just passed through the corridor lined with doors leading into personal quarters and sleeping areas when one of the cheap cabin doors swung open. Framed beside them was the feminine shape of Molly. Their intelligence analyst. And she was stark naked, every black and white furred curve on her sleek body on full display.

She was posed like a pin up model for a moment, seemingly surprised at the sight of Tacco, but her eyes were firmly fixed on Brute anyway, as one arm rested on the door frame, her opposite resting on her hip which was cocked out to the side slightly to show off her athletic curvature a little more.

"You. I need you," she ordered, grabbing Brute by the shirt. Or at least, what remained of it. "I want the knot thing again. Now."

As if she'd gotten super strength while they'd been on the mission, Molly effortlessly dragged brute into her quarters and slammed the door shut, both of them disappearing from sight.

Tacco stared at the door bewildered for a moment. Then with a roll of his eyes, started to walk off.

He barely got one step away when the door was torn open again. Molly re-appeared and snatched the Malinois up by the scruff of his neck.

"Not so fast, mister! You too!" and before he could complain the ewe had dragged the second sheepdog into her quarters.

Molly was strong for her size. Or Tacco's docile side had kicked in. Or he was just outright confused, because the sheep was able to jostle him into sitting on her simple footlocker with ease.

She was naked, her sumptuous athletic curves on full display as her stubby little tail lifted up to reveal a glistening puckered little prize just beneath. It was honestly all it took for Tacco's erection to peek out of his sheath, especially when she leaned forward, pressing her ample breasts near his face while working open his pants.

Brute's pants were already on the floor next to his tactical gear, a frightfully enormous cock nestling between the tight globes of Molly's ass, grinding her cheeks with a slow roll of is hips. The Demi-Shepherd suffered with a smile, clapping one hand against her tight ass, before squeezing and grinding those cheeks tighter against his shaft. The way his cock rode up the small of her back it was clear he'd ram the tip against her diaphragm if he impaled her the whole way down to the sheath.

"Those wolves may have been more to my scale, but your tight little ass is so much more amazing, Molly," he complimented with a lusty growl.

Molly however eased Tacco's cock from his pants and turned, slapping Brute playfully on the shaft.

"That's not for you," she said, spinning on the spot. "You're way too big for that." In the same breath she threw Tacco a fuck-me look over her shoulder as she backed that amazing ass onto his lap.

Tacco tensed as the tip speared the firm furry globes and he felt the slippery lube help yield the tight, puckered little hole. Bit by bit she sank back, the warmth of her body enveloping his length, rippling internal muscles clenching and relaxing in a massaging motion all the way down.

Her walls were pre-stretched, the same way she'd slathered herself up with lube in preparation she'd probably been fingering herself back there in anticipation of this.

Brute pinned his ears against his head with a disappointed pout. Though it didn't last very long as Molly sank the rest of the way back with a moan. And as Tacco hilted in her ass, she wrapped the entirety of Brute's throbbing erection into a warm hug. The tip nestled between her soft, fluffy breasts as her slender arms hugged the shaft and erotically rubbed the firm, front of her body against his cock.

"You may be too big for my back hole, Brute. But that doesn't mean I don't love this big thing," she said in a low whisper, lowering her head to place a wet little smooch on the dribbling tip of his cock. She lapped up the glob of precum forming with a delighted moan, only causing more of the slippery fluid to leak into her matted cleavage.

With a grin, Brute was rolling his hips in no time, his thick fingers catching Molly's delicate chin to keep that lovely face of hers turned up to his gaze. The way her eyes were shut, her lips pulled into a happy smile and how she blushed as she rode on Tacco's cock was enough of a sight to get Brute off. As much as he loved tight wet holes, seeing a girl enjoy herself had its own rewards too.

Molly rode and gyrated, back against Tacco's hips, then forth to squeeze her ample breasts about Brute's crown. Back and forth the trio worked until they were all panting, matted messes of lube, saliva and precum.

Soon the ewe's tongue was dribbling all over the tip of Brute's cock, making it all warm and slippery for her hands to work over the crown then massage the thick shaft. His balls churned, stirring up a thick batch of seed for the wonderful sheep worshipping his cock.

Tacco got there first by the sounds of his moans, followed immediately by Molly's.

"Y-yyyehs-sss~!" Molly keened with delight, her eyes rolling back as another thin line of drool escaped her bottom lip. "Oh, yes, Shepherds above! So hot inside me, it..." She tried to rise and quickly found his knot had swollen inside the tight ring of muscles at her opening that he was lodged firmly inside her butt and wasn't going anywhere any time soon as jet after jet of hot cum continued to shoot deep into the woman's bowels. "Fuck yes! I'm stuck. I'm stuck on your knot, Tacco, its... ohhh~! It's so good. So much warm cum in my belly~..."

She trailed off, blubbering on as little whimpers of delight interrupted her stream of orgasmic nonsense. At the same time a small gush of warm, slippery liquid jetted from her pussy, soaking Brute's tightening balls.

The larger sheepdog clenched, then let out a roar as his cock throbbed against Molly's spasming body, the warmth of her orgasm and twitches of her soft fluffy body finally setting him off.

Tacco noticed in his pleasured daze, suddenly snapping back to reality in a panic.

"Wait, no! Flagging friendlies! Brute! Blue-on-blue...!"

Too late.

Brute came in an eruption that hosed the shuddering Molly down. Several jets fell into her mouth and she only stuck out her tongue to catch more of the delicious salty treat she was being showered in. Her hands gripped the canine's swelling knot as if to possessively hug him in place as he came and came, then came some more for good measure, pumping every last dreg of what remained in his balls across the ewe.

When Brute opened his eyes, finally coming down from the wave of hot pleasure that took him to an entirely different place, the sight of Molly basking in post orgasmic bliss, drenched in his cum and trying to slide as much of it as she could into her mouth with her fingers was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in a while.

At the same time Tacco leaned sideways, to reveal he was a similarly beautiful sight. Almost as much cum had hit the fellow sheepdog, painting his irate glare in sticky, pearly white goo that was dripping in long slimy strings from his muzzle, one of his triangular ears and soaking into his tactical gear.

Brute frowned apologetically. "Oh, sorry about that."

"... I fucking hate you."

Big Bad Wolf - Roses & Revolutions

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