Zoey stared ahead, with a nervous gulp as Peter unbuckled her child seat. She clung to his chest, her face buried down into his shoulder, while she watched the farmland beyond the fence posts pass by.

There were more anthros here, all out in the fields, doing the various jobs they were bred and raised for. Nearby, a herd of sheep were being moved from one grazing pasture to another, rounded up by an energetic anthro sheep-dog. Running to and fro, he barked verbal commands in English, keeping the normal four-leggers in tight formation and preventing any from wandering off from the herd. Anthro dogs were great workers for this sort of thing, needing almost no direct supervision--once trained, they could simply be given a set of complex instructions, and they would work themselves to the bone to get it done. In the case of this sheepdog, Peter could only presume his duties were more than just rounding up the sheep--he likely fed them, too, and reported if any seemed sick or hurt.

On the other side of the long dirt walkway leading up to the big farmhouse, there was a field of crops. Throughout this field, a few anthro horses wearing jean overalls were picking fruit from bushes, filling up big, plastic buckets which, in turn, were hanged from poles. One of the anthro horses could heft one of these long poles with a good half dozen buckets hanging from it, and rest it on his shoulders, demonstrating the enormous physical strength these anthros had been created with, and how perfectly suited they were to trivialize the sort of physical labor that would be both expensive and exhausting to make humans do. 

While Zoey was curious enough to stare--and indeed, grateful to have her little mind distracted by something new and interesting--Peter was used to this. The man was about thirty years old, and he'd grown up in this sort of world. Having physical labor performed by these engineered animals had made life better for humans. With these anthro 'pets', who have no real legal rights, working as anything from field workers, to janitors, to prostitutes, humans had more spare time than ever to pursue careers in education and entertainment--a real golden age! And since the animals were physiologically and psychologically conditioned to enjoy working, only a few fringe groups ever saw it as 'inhumane'.

A knock on the door tore Zoey's attention from the work animals in the field, back to the situation she was in, cradled in her owner's arms and about to be brought into the place where she'd have puppies put inside of her... somehow. 

The door creaked open, and a middle-aged man, deeply tanned and looking to be in his forties, answered the door. "Hello... you must be Peter and Zoey?" The man greeted, giving Zoey an attempt at a friendly smile. The shy dog just pressed her ears flat against the back of her head.

"Yeah, that's us. Heh, don't mind Zoey, I think she's so excited she's gone full circle and gotten scared again."

"She's a cutie. Bring her inside," the farmer said, opening his door wide, beckoning to Peter. "She just needs a little time to get used to the smells and calm down."

"Thanks." Peter rubbed Zoey's head, and she responded with a few awkward little licks of his chin. "Have you got any dog cookies? Zoey likes the peanut butter ones."

Zoey wagged her tail a little at the mention of her favorite cookies, but when the old farmer gave her a grin, she hid her face back in Peter's armpit. Like some sort of worm, she burrowed her way between his chest and arm, till her tiny nose poked out the other side, completely enveloping herself in her owner's smell and warmth.

Peter ran his hand down her back a few times, smirking. "Maybe we'll save the treats for a bit later."

"Ah, alright," greed the old farmer.

"Do you mind showing me your stud's papers and veterinary history before get started, though?"

"Oh, right, yep!" The man nodded, and he led the way through his house. "Over here." It was sort of house you expected a busy, single man to live in when he does a lot of work with animals. The place was kind of dirty--not filthy, but with the amount of pets coming in and out, could use a little more frequent mopping than it got. Stacks of packed, cardboard boxes stood in a few corners, with layers of dust and the stain of age. Spots on shelves or open areas of the floor were cluttered by tools and pieces of machinery that had never quite gotten fixed up all the way, or perhaps were in the process of being stripped for spare parts to fix some other piece of equipment. The house smelled like animal dander, engine oil, and pine wood.

Peter was led to a dining room table and offered a seat, the farmer sitting opposite him. There was a lot of talk that started to go over Zoey's head. Stuff about breeding histories, papers, hereditary health issues. Mentions of immunizations made Zoey cringe deeper into her owner's arms, and hand lowering under her skirt to rub her thigh, where she still recalled all those terrifying, painful needles giving her shots back when she was a little pup.

Papers changed hands, words were exchanged, but Zoey ignored most of it. She was used to the fact that human conversations were generally too complex for her. For now, just the fact that her head was spinning was more than enough to make her ignore the way her owner was discussing her body in the third person, like she had no say in the matter. 

She was starting to calm, though, starting to lift her head away from Peter's armpit and start to actually look around the house, when she spotted another sheltie, watching her from mere inches away, with his ears perked. The house was already so full of his smell that she hadn't even noticed his slow approach, or the way he was flaring his nostrils drawing in her heat-laden scent.

"...H..Hi..." she squeaked softly, peeking at the other dog out of one eye, while her face remained pressed against peter's shirt.

"Hi!" the other dog greeted, much more forward. He was older than her by at least a few years, but it was hard to tell. "I'm Ralph! What's your name?"

All he was wearing was a casual t-shirt, a little stained from so much playing outside with the other animals, and a pair of loose-fitting cotton shorts... and Zoey's eyes were fixated on the enormous tent pitched in front. She had seen that sort of thing in Peter's pajamas before, most mornings in fact. Somehow she just assumed this is a thing only humans do--she didn't realize that most of the show dogs she met in public had been neutered, and seeing this on another dog was somehow perplexing. ".. Um, I'm Zoey," she answered, after the moment it took to clear the fuzz from her mind.

"Hi Zoey! You look scared. But it's okay. Most of my mates are the first time," he said completely casually, making the self-conscious Zoey wilt even further. Ralph held up a bright blue tennis ball like nothing was wrong. "Look! It's my favorite toy. I'll share it with you."

Zoey didn't know what to say. she might be an adult, but she was freezing up, faced with a situation she hadn't been taught how to behave in. All she could think to do, is look up to Peter for guidance.

The man lifted her up out of his lap, and set her down on her feet. "Go on, Zoey. Go play with Ralph. We have a lot to talk about."

Zoey stood there, uncertainly, hands folded at her front and tail tucked between her thighs. But that ball did seem fun, especially when Ralph bounced it a few times in front of her. [Well, Peter did tell me too...] she thought, swallowing and gathering up her courage to follow the male outside. "Can I really share your favorite ball, Ralph?"

"Yeah-huh! My owner says I should be nice to the bitches I'm going to breed, so you can play with it until we mate. Okay?"

"Oo... Okay..." Worries were at least temporarily abated by playing catch with another dog, though. Ralph knew how to throw a ball as well as a human, and chasing it across dirt walkways and grassy pastures was a great way to pass the afternoon. If not for the constant, burning ache of need and the slick moisture absolutely soaking her panties, zoey could probably have forgotten the real reason she was here at all. She never was a very smart dog anyway... she took to training well, but was easily distracted and just not too bright. She could never handle a real sort of job, so it was a good thing her kind is merely bred for show.

Playtime lasted until the two shelties heard their names called again--all too soon, really! She was having so much fun just chasing that tennis ball all over, but as she re-entered the house behind Ralph, the butterflies in her stomach started to flutter again.

"Alright, Zoey," Peter was standing there, ready to greet his dirty dog, pulling her up against him for a hug. "Are you ready to start?"

".. Nooo...." She whined softly, tucking her tail again.

"Look. I'll be right with you the entire time. But you've been bothering me about puppies for a year now. Do you really want to just turn back now and give up?"

"Well... uhm, I, I just... no, no, I want puppies, Peter," She mumbled, her tongue as twisted as her poor little brain.

"Good girl!" He rubbed her ears and her chin, making her wag her tail. She didn't know what she was a good girl for, but those magic words always helped a little. Being good for her owner was what she tried to do, always, knowing that her place was to serve and in return she'd be taken care of.

Zoey didn't even bat an eye when Peter started taking off her clothing. Playing 'dress up' was just part of life. She always got changed into all sorts of different costumes at talent shows, and sometimes even shown off in the nude, demonstrating her healthy, well brushed fur. She was naked at home most days, but always dressed up in something pretty when she was taken out in public, shown off like a little doll. 

It wasn't until she felt something clamp around her muzzle that something felt wrong. Her eyes popped open, her hands rose to grip and pull at the straps keeping her mouth tightly clenched shut, but there was no removing it as Peter cinched the rear strap around the back of her head. "I'm sorry, Zoey," he offered softly, his hands lowering to stroke through her bared fur a few times. "It was part of the deal. I know you're a good girl, but we just want to make sure you won't get scared and bite Ralph."

Behind her, Ralph was already undressed and down on his hand and knees, sniffing up against Zoey's tail, which was still tucked between her thighs.

The fear was starting to well up in the poor girl again. She had Peter right here with her, but she couldn't even tell him what was wrong with the muzzle over her head. All she could do is cling to him, burying her face in his shirt, trying to hide herself and disappear. She felt her owner's hand pet down her spine, then grab her tail and lift it up, firmly--she gave her ass an obedient hike, instinct helping her interpret the gesture even though her mind was still unsure what was expected of her. 

She felt the male on top of her next. That stiff erection found its way against her soaking wet, swollen vulva, and Ralph's arms wrapped around her middle, giving him plenty of leverage to begin his rapid, powerful thrusts. Confused tears formed in the poor girl's eyes--somehow it felt wonderful yet terrifying, completely natural yet humiliating and wrong, all at once. There were too many emotions, too many feelings for such a simple doggy brain to figure out all at once.

She was mated, hard, for mere minutes, yet it felt like so much longer than that. The male filled her tight, achingly hot passage completely. It was almost too much! Zoey wanted to scream at first that it was too big, that she was sure this would hurt her, but all she could manage was muffled whines, which began melting into gasping, sharp moans when her tiny pussy turned out to be a lot more elastic than she expected. 

Scared as she may have been, it was exactly what her body had been begging for. Feeling a knot swelling just past her vulva made Zoey quiver in Peter's arms. Licking herself so many times this past year did absolutely nothing to compare to the orgasm she felt this time, making her squirm and whine between the males, while her pussy clenched around Ralph's knot, milking it for every bit of that precious seed she needed to douse the flames of her heat.

Never before had Zoey felt so satisfied in the middle of an estrus. She lay, tied tight, her face in her master's lap and her mind adrift, completely lost to this world. All she knew is she felt strangely wonderful, suddenly, despite the salty tears soaking her cheeks and the breathless, gasping little whines she was still making. 

She couldn't even muster up any fight when Ralph's knot deflated, and she was suddenly held down to be rutted for a second time, and then a third after that, held in her owner's patient grasp while the male dog mounted her again and again. She gave up, laying limp, being a 'good girl' by letting the male take and use her as long as it took until he simply couldn't get it up enough to take her again. A panting, heaving mess, excessive semen from her stud leaking from her used and suddenly empty pussy, the little toy dog lay gasping for breath in her owner's lap, one hand lowering to rub over her belly, feeling the very slight bulge of an overstuffed uterus. [Funny...] She thought innocently, [My tummy's all big, like when I eat too much...]