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"submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5776/5776418_laruf_262._mapping_new_terrain_-_trade.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "And another backlogged one! This is a pretty long comm (12k) for an anonymous customer who had a whole batch of super fun ideas. Their wolfess gal here is at the peak of her heat & just can't resist the primal allure of a nearby barnyard, so she goes over one night, hops the fence, makes her way through the animals until one of em in particular catches her eye... but, well, a well-bred boar is far stronger & heavier than she expected, so there's not much she can do about it when he ends up fudging his aim a bit~\n\nThe whole pig cum plug is a subject that's popped up in my gallery once or twice before! It's a fun subject & opens up a lot of real neat ideas, such as this one here where - he's glued your piss pipe shut; now what're you gonna do? Well, good thing the farmer, who's also a boar, is nearby to help out. Did you know pigs -also- have prehensile dicks? That sure helps out in scooping deep & dislodging that plug...", "description_bbcode_parsed": "And another backlogged one! This is a pretty long comm (12k) for an anonymous customer who had a whole batch of super fun ideas. Their wolfess gal here is at the peak of her heat & just can't resist the primal allure of a nearby barnyard, so she goes over one night, hops the fence, makes her way through the animals until one of em in particular catches her eye... but, well, a well-bred boar is far stronger & heavier than she expected, so there's not much she can do about it when he ends up fudging his aim a bit~

The whole pig cum plug is a subject that's popped up in my gallery once or twice before! It's a fun subject & opens up a lot of real neat ideas, such as this one here where - he's glued your piss pipe shut; now what're you gonna do? Well, good thing the farmer, who's also a boar, is nearby to help out. Did you know pigs -also- have prehensile dicks? That sure helps out in scooping deep & dislodging that plug...", "writing": "Ember took a moment to rest against the lone tree standing here within the open field, the wolfess’s knees halfway buckled underneath her, her tail curled between her legs, her breath hot and thick in her throat and chest. Again and again she exhaled the low, shivering sighs, feeling as though she had just climbed a tall hill – but when she looked back all she could see within the steady stillness of the middle of night was the low undulations of the open pasture.\n\nAnd yet still her entire body tingled with exertion, muscles tensing and relaxing, chest heaving, ears trying to flatten against her head. She groaned, swallowed, partially doubled over as another wave of sensation hit her, and then before she could stop herself reached down to swiftly undo the button and zipper of her pants fly and slipped a paw underneath the matted, soaked material of her underwear.\n\nBut instead of relieving this twitching, urgent need, the sensation of fingers pressing down against the protruding base of her heat-swollen spade, squeezing against the supple, succulent flesh to squish it together, then turning and plunging two side by side straight up inside of herself, sinking so quickly, so firmly to the knuckles that amid the still night her ears perked to the meaty squelch of the movement – instead all of this just further fueled the flame simmering inside of her. Again the wolfess licked her lips and now let her tongue flop out of her mouth, other arm held above her head against the smooth bark of the tree, paw churning as she worked in at herself.\n\nDespite the midsummer warmth swelling around her, Ember honestly expected to be able to see her heavy breaths puffing out into the air before her. She focused there until her tail lashed and her knees knocked together again, and then with immense force of will the wolfess slurped her fingers back out of herself, shook them off in the air – a few thick strands of bubbly juice flung free – and lifted her paw to her muzzle. Her own scent washed over her with a nearly physical impact, her ears perking forward and her chest swelling out as she deeply inhaled; another shiver, clench, and jerk zapped through her, and before she could tug her panties down out of the way another squirt of fresh arousal jetted out from within the folds of her full sex, further staining the cloth.\n\nShe sighed, the sound shivering with the pleasure that still reverberated through her body, and tenderly settled her underwear back around herself. The elastic material sucked in around the protruding meat and did very little to hide it, translucent in its wetness around rich, warm pink made deeper with the peak of her heat; she had to tug her pants fly forward to zip up around it, then wiped her fingers off on the fringes of her scarf – already it had become a little bit crusty and matted, from how many times she had done this since stepping off the nearest farm road about two miles back – before she could take a moment to catch her breath.\n\nThen finally collected again as much as her heat would allow, she pushed away from the tree, wobbled under the shaky jellylike consistency of her own legs, and continued on her way towards the low structure barely visible within the darkness at the foot of this low, undulating ridge. Not really a hill at all: she could barely feel the decline as she stepped down it, even with all of her senses heightened by the intensity of the need.\n\nFour days of this so far, she thought for the hundredth time tonight, so after this, after tonight, I’ll be on the way out…\n\nBut that took making it through tonight. For each of those four days her morning jogs to try to shake out some of the excess energy took her along the exterior of this farm here, and each and every day was hell trying to deal with the hypersensitivity of her plump spade bouncing, jiggling, jostling within her shorts, dripping down her legs, searing through the fabric faster than her own sweat so that she had to wash the things every day, to say nothing about the intoxicating, alluring smells of the livestock. Time and time again she would look over the rickety excuse for a fence and see the idle lumps of cows milling about the grass; the fuller, sharper, somewhat more angular shapes of horses bunching together, brush-like tails swishing back and forth and showing the occasional tantalizing peek at what they carried underneath; and then further down the road, popping briefly along the driveway that would snake through the heart of the property to the house standing in the center, not pigs but rather boars.\n\nAnd every time Ember thought about how easy it would be to angle herself to the side and vault over the fence. The maps online showed the property to be some fifteen acres square; there was no way that the farmer, and so far she had observed the place to be run by only the one, would be able to even know that she had come by for a visit.\n\nIn fact, it had been only just the day before that upon turning the corner to make the loop back home, one of the cows had managed to make its way right up to the fence. Ember had slowed in her pace and looked at it, and it had just looked back at her, idle interest rumbling across its face; the wolfess looked down the road one way and then the other, came closer, reached out, gave it a pat… then couldn’t resist doing what she had just done tonight, in slipping a paw down inside her underwear. Yesterday, though, instead of wiping it off on her scarf she offered it to the cow instead, and-\n\nAnd she struggled to refocus her attention as the shape of the barn loomed high and dark in the night, entirely unlit save for a sole lantern somewhere inside. Slowly, carefully, Ember adjusted her step and crept around to the other side, heart thumping in her throat. Even though she knew that she was safe, even though she knew that she could get in and then get back out before anyone had any idea-\n\n-so long as there aren’t any hidden cameras or anything like that-\n\n-the nervousness still continued to tighten around her throat the further she went. However, so too did the excitement, the arousal, grow: underfoot the open, luscious grass of the pasture gave way instead to thin gravel and dirt paths, showing signs of frequent, regular traffic here. A little trail led around to the other side of the barn and then off between the shallow hills of the field in the other direction; Ember took another breath, smelled herself on her scarf and her fingers, and hugged close to the exterior wall of the barn, trying to make as small a silhouette as she could.\n\nBefore long the scent of the animals within the walls overtook her own in-heat musk, pushing the familiar aroma back down beneath a thick, rich, heady stench, pungent and acrid and bitter yet still delicious. Once she turned the corner again, her still slightly damp paw resting up against the doorway, the wolfess leaned in, slid her muzzle into the gap in the entrance, closed her eyes, and took a deep, slow whiff of the thick air inside. All of those smells swirled in through her nostrils, tickled at the back of her throat, and jetted down into her lungs, in that moment almost making her chest heave with the sudden punch.\n\nCows, she thought, and opened her eyes – and sure enough after the few seconds it took to adjust, all of those big round eyes, and big round other things, looked back at her. Most were asleep while a few stood around in the way that bovines tended to do, and one or two of them turned their heads and sniffed towards their visitor. Maybe on some other day… Ember hovered there between thoughts and often-visited fantasies about sliding herself underneath one of these large beasts, or more often behind with the paintbrush-like tail flung over her shoulder, one arm gripping the hindleg while the other pumped forward to coat herself to the elbow in thick, sticky slickness, and… and again she drew herself back out of the barn, taking a few deep breaths of the sweet outdoor air to clear her head.\n\nThe mental fog lifted somewhat, though still she felt she could taste the distinct tang of bovine presence as she wobbled her way towards the next stables in line, visible over the next ridge. Tonight Ember had made the journey out here in little more than a sports bra long enough to cover only her uppermost pair of breasts, the landing-lights of smaller nipples down her belly having swollen out to small handfuls under the influence of her heat, and then the smallest cutoff shorts she could find: the sensation of the air on her bare fur helped to distract her from her heat, and about halfway across the field she had started to wonder if it would be more comfortable to see if she could mash the plump, protruding girth of her spade down one of her pants legs instead of try to keep it pouched in the center.\n\nThat had led to her first self-care break.\n\nOnce at the next building she again paused to catch her breath, swallowed, and lifted her paw to her muzzle, cursing herself for not taking the time to smear over her scent with one of the cow’s. In here, though, something on the air set her tail to twitching and her ears to tingling; Ember drew in yet another breath, swallowed again, and nosed in through the door, excited tension simmering within her-\n\n-and then immediately drew back at a blast of noise whinnying out from one of the corners. Horses, she thought, heart pounding – and indecision mounting. The horses were not what she had come here for tonight, but even still… the wolfess peeked back in again, blinked against the darkness, and swept her gaze through the stalls inside, much closer to the lovely creatures than she had ever come before. And even from here, even in this lighting, she could see the glistening sheen of their pelts, the luxurious manes, the sleek, tight ridges of muscle along their shoulders, their bodies, their haunches.\n\nOne of them was facing the other way. Ember peered closer, watching the swish and sway of the tail; she had hoped that this was one of the farms that bound their horses’ tails at the base, but very early on had been disappointed. Still, though, there was a flash of the thick, dense wrinkled skin of the donut-like tailhole, hanging heavily away from the smooth curves of the rump around it; then the luscious folds of skin draping down underneath, the mare’s sex similarly thick, moist, needy.\n\nOne of her morning jogs past this farm, prior to this heat, had given her the lovely sight of a stallion mounting a mare like this. The musculature along the legs, the fervent abandon in the way each tossed their head and mane, the energetic neighing, the slick, wet slopping of meat inside of meat audible even across the fence – there had been nobody else around, so of course the wolfess had stopped to watch, and may or may not have taken her phone out to catch a short video from where she stood. That had neither been the first nor the last time she had thought about hopping the fence here, and now that she was finally here, now that the mare put herself on full display for her visitor, one glistening eye looking back along the sleek, shapely body-\n\n-Ember had to deliberately keep herself from entering the barn and hopping the stable door, though when she left the building she had to push herself against the wall and take a few moments with her head tilted back, her mouth open, and her fingers buried inside of herself again, the slick, sticky warmth now soaking well through the fabric of her shorts as well.\n\nThere’ll be other chances, she told herself, again and again. One of those horses had watched her with a glimmer in its eye, daring her to come in, wanting her to indulge herself and each of them… I’ll just do the one tonight, and if I don’t get caught – and I won’t – I can come back. God, fuck, but I should’ve brought a camera.\n\nShakily, she drew her paw back out of her pants, shook it off again, and this time smeared her own wetness along the fur of her upper lip. That rich, familiar spice followed her as she pushed away from the horse stables, the fly of her pants once more opened to the nighttime air. I’m not gonna be able to take it for much longer, she thought, scanning the field for her true target. I’m gonna have to sit down and work this out before I get there, and it might be too late by then, or… but the further she delved into her own thoughts, the stronger her resolve grew, until within another few minutes she stumbled through the door of the next barn in line, this one carrying a thicker, wider, somewhat less familiar scent to it, steeped and magnified within the close summer air. Hinged doors on the outside led to a small fenced pen, trough backed up along one side with muddy tracks that put her in mind of one kind of animal – and when she threw the doors wide and stepped in, the wolfess’s heart leapt in her chest upon seeing that she was right.\n\nIn the darkness the bright, beady eyes of the massive boars looked up at her. Just like the cows most of them were asleep, but one in particular near the back corner sniffed and snuffled at the air, wanting to taste its visitor; Ember looked back at it, waited for its eyes to meet hers, then flicked and ear and gave a wink.\n\nFor good measure, she thought, and then she started her way into the barn. Bare footpaws squished and squelched into the thick mud that blanketed the boards here, soft and cool; the idea of wearing such a sharp, visible stain in evidence of her detour tonight helped to further drive her forward, paws coming up to slip her bra off. Even just the touch of the still air within the barn sent a shiver ricocheting down her back despite the relative warmth, and she had to catch herself against the nearby pillar for support; still watching the boar across the space, its pelt bearing tatters and wisps of discarded hay from where it had been laying before her entry, she then reached down, folded her paw yet again beneath her pants and underwear, and in one smooth movement dropped those to her ankles.\n\nShe didn’t even bother to pick up or fold her clothing. Ember left them where they lay, stepping out into the middle of all of these livestock animals, fully nude with nothing holding back the thick, intoxicating aroma of her heat. On the way over she actually slowed her pace so that she could taste it herself, nostrils flaring: the sharp spice of lupine arousal twisted and mixed with the deep, rich stench of pig, then packed together underneath the smooth, earthy moisture of the mud and hay between her pawpads.\n\nPast her own breathing and that of the animals around here, the sucking of the mud around her footpaws angled her ears down again and again, the only noise in the darkness – and a sharp, constant reminder of the realization pulsing in the back of her mind, I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.\n\nOn reaching the back corner of the barn Ember had started to shiver, not with cold but with anticipation. She braced her paws on the gate, a simple deadbolt setup, and then lowered herself down – and took a moment to relish the sticky squish of the mud soaking into and staining her grey fur. I hope it dries, she thought, leaning forward towards the boar behind the door. I hope it crusts up and I get to feel it flaking and peeling when I walk back home. I hope it smears in so far that I can’t put my clothes back on and I have to walk home naked and-\n\nAnd a sticky, slimy wetness slopped across her arm and yanked her out of her thoughts. The wolfess jerked back in surprise and only afterwards realized that that was just the boar coming forward to introduce itself to her: sharp, surprisingly deep eyes glittered up at her from behind the gate, its rounded snout wrinkling and wriggling as it sniffed at her, no doubt tasting her heat as powerfully as if it had buried that muzzle right in between her legs.\n\nEmber settled back down and indulged herself in that thought for a moment, pushing her paws forward and spreading her fingers apart to let it sniff at her. This one displayed thick tusks pushing out from in between its lips, and it kept its gaze on her even as it investigated her paws, her fingers, the coating of sticky slickness half-dried into her fur; she turned this way and that to touch, to feel, to pat the beast, learning it in turn. Its breath puffed out in hot, quick bursts; the wolfess imagined those breaths tickling along her pubic fur and between her thighs, and before she could stop herself she stood back up, felt the mud slurp down off her knees, then came forward – and leaned fully over the gate, deliberately spreading her thighs around the creature’s angular snout as she did so.\n\nHer height put her directly where she wanted, and she had to keep one paw on the gate to keep from crumpling down across the feral as it nuzzled forward into the plush, plump flesh of her swollen spade, the drags of breath feeling like little bouts of suction pulling away at her lips. She swallowed, shuddered, and grinded forward, then realized this rough, damp surface she gripped was not the wood of the gate but rather the boar’s head; the wolfess looked down, saw that it was still looking at her, tilted her head, rubbed her paw to the side, felt over the ear, rubbed back.\n\nIt nuzzled up into the touch, broad tongue slopping out across her already-wet sex, and issued a sputtering, guttural grunt that was just so intensely pig that she couldn’t help but bark out a short laugh. Delighted, reassured – the feral was definitely as interested in her as she was in it – she leaned forward again, pushed her paws along the wide barrel of its body with more confidence, approached the tail… brushed it aside… and yet again felt her breath catch in her throat.\n\nGood. Mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed. No curlicue tail like in all the cartoons; instead it was a small, bushy sprig, easily pulled aside to show the dense, dank folds of the crusted tailhole underneath, but then more importantly underneath that the full, wide swell of impressive, intimidating balls, large enough to change the profile silhouette of the beast. Ember shivered again and continued forward to curl her fingers as far around the boar’s sack as she could, now doubled fully over the beast: the damp heat radiating off of its undercarriage here felt as though it should steam out into the nighttime air, and before long she realized that the moisture slipping across her fingerpads was sweat gathering in between.\n\nA low rumble of pleasure dripped from between her parted lips. One paw still massaging at the boar’s promise, she redirected the other down beneath her bent body, felt for the back of the beast’s head, and tugged it more firmly into place against her. Its – his – slick, wet lips felt like so many sloppy folds of slimy meat rubbing and slurping right back around her, coating her in the sticky froth of feral saliva, while her tender, sensitive nipples slipped back and forth along his coarse pelt, the sensation at once aggravating yet intoxicating.\n\nThe wolfess held herself there for a little while longer, grinding forward, rocking back, head stretching back with shivering enjoyment, shoulders rising, back arching. Again and again the waves of pleasure pushed through her: there was just… something about the sensation of the feral’s tongue against, around, and inside of her, easily parting through the sloppy folds of succulent meat, the boar trying to draw out the rich, salty warmth of her pleasure.\n\nThen, finally, she braced her paws on the gate again, fumbled for the lock – “I can’t take it anymore,” she heard herself say, whispering out into the barn – and threw it open, stumbling back as it bumped against her legs. Breath in her throat, the juice of her arousal mixed with feral drool sopping through the no longer soft fur of her inner thighs, she stumbled backwards, felt the mud suck and pull at her footpaws, wobbled – and fell to her rump, the mess splattering up and around her.\n\nBefore her stood the boar, confused at the sudden opening of his pen yet still curious, still interested. Immediately he dropped his head and snuffled at where she had just stood, following the trail of foggy drips and sprays through the mess. That’s me, Ember thought, breathless; that’s mine. He’s interested in me. He’s… oh, God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m really, finally doing this. I’m…\n\nShe watched from a distance as her body moved on its own. Paws squished down into the muck, fingers spread to feel the gritty sludge slurp up in between; her tail swished behind her, dragging through the grime like a paintbrush; she lifted up, pulled against the suction tug of the wetness, rolled herself over – felt her breasts and her smaller nipples jiggle and swing underneath her, then shivered with the same sensation dragging along her plump, protruding spade.\n\nWrapped up in the feelings of her own body and heat, Ember folded her arms underneath her chin and held herself there, just swinging her hind end back and forth, back and forth. Hefty breasts swollen further with her need hung forward along her chest and neck; she felt the drag and pull of the smaller humps along her belly, weighing her down as her hips rose higher; and then strongest, heaviest, wettest, the limp slp-shlup-slp of her hanging spade as she swung it side to side, smacking against her already-wet inner thighs, squishing in against itself.\n\nThen her ears perked, her hackles shuddered, her tail swished – and smacked sideways against the snout of the boar now digging his nose in underneath its base. There was that breath again, hot and hungry, and the sputtering lips, the sloppy tongue; the wolfess shivered, looked over her shoulder, and reached down to spread herself for him, able to hear the wet shluck as slick lips tugged apart from one another.\n\n“C’mere,” she murmured, more to herself than to the feral. “That’s right, come here… right here on the ground, why don’t you-” \n\nAnd the breath puffed out of her chest when he moved to climb on top, so much bone and muscle and meat pressing down against her from above and behind. Startled by his weight, Ember squirmed to find a comfortable position underneath the beast, then shifted her paw further back: already the thing jerked and thrust with fervent interest, gladly taking the invitation offered to him, and before long she felt the telltale wet warmth streaking across her rump, her thigh, the outside of her leg. Still, though, that nervousness remained: he was heavy, far more so than she had expected, and already her arms and legs tingled with the strain.\n\nWords died in her throat. All she wanted was this, and the excitement redoubled again the first time she felt the slick, tapered length of his shaft brush across and then between her fingers. So, so hot, slightly greasy all across the surface; she wrapped her fingers around him, gave a stroke and a squeeze, felt him throb in turn, then shifted again, angled him down between her legs, deliberately teased him around within the outermost folds of her sex, and then – he found his mark and thrust forward.\n\nSweet, bright delight splashed throughout her, the hypersensitivity of her heat sparkling across the whole of her awareness. Without realizing it Ember dropped her muzzle to her paws and rumbled out with pleasure, hips wiggling side to side underneath the boar. He’s inside me, she thought, caught between disbelief and wonder. Just a little bit, but – he’s really… really inside me, and… and he was hot, so hot. Ember squeezed, shivered, then pushed again as he started to draw back, not wanting him to pull out.\n\nI want to smell like pig, she thought, slipping her paw forward to slop her fingers amid the swampy heat of her spade. I want him to coat me in everything he’s got, to fill me up so that next time I touch myself it’ll smell like an open barn… Behind her he adjusted again, snorted, and started to move forward once more. Ember caught his tapered tip along her fingers to guide him back in. I want him to pound me like a fucking sow. Fill me up. You deserve to breed, you huge, ugly beast, and I-\n\nFirst came that familiar, delicious warmth pushing up against her, rubbing across tender, sensitive flesh – and then suddenly an also-familiar flash of sparkling discomfort, bright and sharp enough to send a cold chill shivering across her shoulders from the pit of her stomach. Ember yelped underneath the boar, already stuck in place with his weight holding her down, trying to grab onto something for support yet unable to find it amid the mud and grime of the barn.\n\nThat’s the wrong – I can’t – oh, God, it’s-\n\nShe gritted her teeth, fangs clacking together, and sucked in a quick breath through flared nostrils. That searing heat increased, strengthened, and prickled out from the inside of her abdomen, sending a tingling spike of uncomfortable pain sharp enough to cut through the overwhelming pleasure of her heat, as the thin tapered tip of the boar’s hard shaft plunged forward – into her urethra.\n\nBy no means was this an unfamiliar sensation: many of her alone time sessions at home involved her spread out along the other side of her mattress, multiple towels laid down over the sheets with her various tubes of lube nearby, and the multiple fold-out packs of all different kinds of implements. Straight, polished steel rods, the thinnest about a third the diameter of a pencil and the thickest – so far – about as wide around as both of her index fingers held together, thought she had only managed to work one finger to the knuckle inside of herself that way; longer, softer ribbed silicone beads of gradually increasing size, good stretching practice; a battery-powered cone-shaped rod with doubled as a vibrator; and even a few bullet-shaped plugs with clean, sharp holes drilled through, allowing her to continue practicing that stretch while still able to relieve herself without having to interrupt the session.\n\nBut this would be the first time in a while she had had something up there, and also the first time without any sort of preparation. The cold chill vibrated back up her shoulders and punched the back of her head with a shock of dizziness as the boar thrust further forward, its naturally slickened, slimy shaft providing its own lubrication for plunging into her, stretching the tight-muscled rim at the mouth of the entrance there, pushing up into her inner tubing.\n\nThe beast huffed in her ear, his breath loud and sticky messy, nasal, guttural. Ember couldn’t help but grimace and turn away from his breath, reflexively clenching down around his poorly-aimed cock; in response he whuffed urgently and pushed forward again, forcing another yelp and gasp out of her. Already the tingling ache had begun to vibrate out from within her loins, the same sort of sensation that hovered within her system for a day or two after a really good, intense session: memories of sinking those metal rods inside herself one at a time flooded back through her thoughts, starting with the second smallest and working her way up, then getting to the point where she could take two at once, and three, and feel them clacking and knocking against one another…\n\n…then the first time she had managed a finger inside of herself, claw carefully trimmed, paw gloved with the nitrile thoroughly smeared in the thick, chunky surgical lube. Such a unique feeling, so far different from fingering herself in the normal fashion: tighter, hotter, stronger… better, almost. Even just to the first knuckle, that first time she had managed two separate finishes just from squeezing around the end of her finger and popping it in and out, until the peak of her arousal jetted out into her palm, and she couldn’t help but release her bladder as well, and-\n\n-and then the odd, distant, deep flick within her abdomen, as though some switch had been grasped and thrown. Her legs trembled, her toes curled, and on instinct she arched her back and tried to clench back down, attempting to close off the flow before it came: this was the sensation of pushing herself to piss, of crossing the threshold between I have to and I can’t stop it now, yet the relief itself never actually came. Instead the pressing urgency continued, sizzling, simmering, strengthening as though her bladder were directly filling up from outside.\n\nThe wolfess’s eyes flashed open; her body tightened; her back straightened as much as it could; she took in a breath, held it, and let it right back out. Perhaps it was. That was the feeling of the long, silicone rope pushing so, so deep inside of her, the little bulbs of its beads popping one by one past the valve hidden within her insides, plunging into simmering, sloshing warmth. It was more a vague awareness of the sensation than the actual feeling of it, but it was certainly there – and she knew that if the boar were for some reason to pull back and dismount, that forcibly-opened valve would sputter and flap against its mouth, and her invaded bladder would naturally drain itself out through the opened floodgates.\n\nThe first time she had managed to get that deep, there had been nothing she could do about the constant slow trickle of piss out around the length of the toy, but here, now, there was no such leakage around the boar’s length. She could feel him there inside of her bladder, keeping the pressure valve open around himself, the heat of her urgency swirling and sloshing around him, soaking him in mark so fresh that it had not yet left her body; each thrust sent a shock of pressure up through her, the nerves within her body signaling to her, too full, need relief now, then trickling back away as he drew back… and then suddenly spiking again with the next.\n\nHow – fucking long is he? she thought, trying to focus, to feel out what he had for her. Already her back ached with his oppressive weight, the feral dancing awkwardly forward and back amid the throes of his urgency. There was nothing she could do about this, other than grit her teeth and bear down every time she anticipated him again thrusting inside, forcing her bladder back open, plunging up into the volume there, and then dragging back out again, the little spritzes and sprays of her mark remaining caught within her body, his shaft squeezing out at her inner walls too tightly to allow any leakage.\n\nFrustrating yet delicious; uncomfortable yet deeply pleasurable; worrying, dizzying… intoxicating, arousing, the captured wolfess lurched forward and back beneath the feral’s fervent thrusts, her paw still spread around the plump base of her sex, more squishing her swollen lips in around him instead of spreading herself open. Even with the sharp sparkle of pain every time he forced himself into her bladder again, even with the uncomfortable scrape and drag along her insides, she still loved the firm, wet impact of his body against hers, those massive balls more knocking against her than swinging. Try as she might to adjust and redirect him out of her, every time the animal pounded forward all of her thoughts spun and muddled together like the surface of a lake disturbed by a thrown pebble.\n\nOr – more a boulder rolled off a nearby cliff. Ember swallowed, licked her lips, tasted the gritty earthiness of mud where her muzzle lay against the ground. Dazed, she half-opened her eyes and looked up: the other boars watched the two of them with varying degrees of interest through the slats in their gates, broad flat snouts wrinkling as they sniffed the air.\n\nThe boar rocked a few steps back each time he pulled out, the smooth, slimy surface of his hard shaft tugging along the interior of Ember’s system as he went. Each time he did so she distantly hoped that he would keep on going, that he would come all the way out and then fix his aim, but to no avail: his immense weight would draw, totter, and settle, then suddenly swing forward again like a wrecking ball against her hiked rump. More like two wrecking balls, she thought, once more feeling the dank heat nudge up against her backside; it was insufferable, feeling all of his extended length snake back up inside of her, having it nudge against the entrance to her bladder again and push there until the force overcame the resistance, and then her entire body twitched and she gritted her teeth again, going through that sensation of needing to piss yet being completely unable to all over again.\n\nHe smells, doesn’t he? Ember thought, taking the effort to turn her head a little further. I bet this thing’s musk is nice and strong and I just can’t smell it over my own heat. Oh, man, I think he’s… getting close, I know these animals usually don’t go that long… She grunted, turned her head the other way, and finally brought her paws forward to try to lift herself up a bit. On top of her the boar also grunted, hot breaths puffing out over her shoulder; when she looked back at him, he actually caught and returned her gaze, beady eyes half-lidded yet focused, as though he knew what he was doing, as though he enjoyed holding her down like this and filling her from the wrong spot.\n\nYou’re mine, those eyes said, and I’m gonna make it so you and everybody else knows it. You’re gonna smell like me. When you next piss, it’s gonna be nothing but my seed, and…\n\n…or, Ember realized, thoughts melding back into her own, it won’t be anything, will it? Because pigs – when they cum, they – ah, God, he’s… really getting close, I…\n\nThick, slimy drool dribbled down her neck, flattening her fur into a smooth, shiny river valley just the same as spare wetness – her arousal, the sludge from his sheath, perhaps some fresh mark that had managed to squirt its way around his cock keeping her plugged – soaked her backside. Each thrust forced another grunt and groan out of her, pleasure mixed with pain: now the boar remained hilted deep inside, sloshing her overfull bladder in against itself with each thrust, poking at her deepest insides, filling her with sensation unlike anything she had felt before even with her previous practices.\n\nOne of her friends had once managed to work a small bullet vibe into the same spot here, and tugged it so it squeezed against the bladder opening from inside…\n\nThen, yet again, another sharper, deeper pain shocked through her, like the sensation of knocking her shin on a corner but radiating out from her lower back. Her first panicked thought was that his weight had become too much for her, but then the boar huffed, drew back, and pushed forward again, and the pain flashed into existence once more – and again, and again, each time.\n\nWait. Wait, no. No, no-\n\nThat indulgent delight began to simmer away to further discomfort and, at its fringes, fear. That was too far: she had worked her toys into her bladder before, but had never pushed then far enough in that they went beyond, up to the smaller, tighter shafts that directly fed the volume from further within her body. But now the tapered point of the boar’s shaft poked and prodded up at the extremities there, squishing the malleable organ around him, diving in and – jamming that pain back up to the side of her lower back again.\n\nIntense, bright, sudden, as though she had just hit that against a sharp corner, or like someone had given her a karate-chop right above the waist. She groaned out into the barn, voice loud enough to briefly quiet the noises of the other animals around. Fingers dug into the mud, peeled away splinters of the moist wood underneath, and she yelped and gasped again and again with each resurgence of that pain, the boar pushing all the way up beyond her bladder, further and further. His huge, heavy balls dragged against the plump lips of her spade, wet meat suction-cupping back against him, pulling him forward even as she tried to squirm away.\n\nThis is bad, she thought, mind coming close to clear for the first time tonight. What if I can’t piss at all? He’s gonna – plug me up, and I’m gonna be so fucked up I can’t do anything, I won’t be able to hold it in but I also won’t be able to push anything out, and… and, God, his dick his huge, and I think I can smell him now, and… there’s…\n\nThe wolfess’s ears flicked towards the other corner of the barn again. Probably just another of the pigs, she thought, before the sound solidified into slow, measured footsteps – but Ember was beyond caring at this point. Slowly, dizzily, she turned her head again, winced and gasped at how this caused the pain to reflect back in towards her spine, and blinked through the bleary darkness illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the window and that one lantern hanging above the open doorway, just like in the other barn.\n\nSure enough the silhouette of someone took shape within the shadows. Broad shoulders, the bare head and chest, the thick arms, thicker waist and legs… the shape of a pair of tusks jutting up and out around the snout, the same folded ears, the same shag-rug consistency of the revealed pelt. Ember’s body bounced with the boar’s eager thrusts now, her vision clouding with each starburst of fiery pain.\n\nThe floorboards beside her shoulder creaked as the farmer crouched down, nodding slowly to himself. He tilted his head, looked her in the eye, flared his broad nostrils in a slow sigh, then looked back towards her bare backside. Hiked underneath this feral beast, tail curled against her body, rump spread, heat-swollen sex sucking up around his hard length buried to the hilt inside of her… huge balls straining, twitching, ready to unload far too deep inside of her and then – in his species’ trademark fashion – deposit the glue-like plug there, to ensure that the seed would take.\n\nToo bad… for me, she managed to think. Once again the wolfess flicked her tongue out across her lips. Once again she tasted mud.\n\nIt felt as though there was a hand squeezing her rump now, sending a little tingle of arousal flaring through her numbed system. Fingers searched, slid underneath her tail, poked wrongly at her tailhole – she clenched, shivered, pushed – then down further; the farmer caressed the root of her spade, accidentally jiggled the plump, wet flesh, spread her open, then tsked between his tusks and shook his head again. When he drew his hand back Ember saw that it dripped with thick, milky ropes.\n\n“So,” he drawled, then pursed his lips. The farmer brought that hand to his snout, sniffed at it, nodded, then wiped it off in a few glistening, sticky streaks along his own pelt. “First off, I wanna say, I ain’t judgin’ ya for your interests here. Show me a rancher who ain’t fraternized with the livestock, and I’ll show you an honest lawman.” Then he wiped it off on his jeans, baggy and stained already. “I just wish you’d’ve asked first, y’know. Seen y’around in the mornings. Wondered if you’d ever come say hi.”\n\nEmber gritted her teeth. “I – need-”\n\nBut the farmer held his other hand up. “No, no. Lemme finish. Figure I should at least explain myself, yeah? Doreen back there’s pregnant.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Extremely so. Named her after the clarinet queen of N’Orleans ‘cause she’s big, dark, and beautiful, see? But I thought it’d be… prudent to spend my time ‘round here just in case she decides to pick an inopportune time a’ night. Yeah?”\n\nAnother thrust, another spear of pain, another hot, searing spike ricocheting along her back. “Sir, I…”\n\n“Hold on, now. Fell asleep back there thinkin’ I’d have only one pregnant sow in the mornin’. Never thought to hope I’d wake up to two.” Then he leaned back and chuckled. “Or at least, pregnant t’be. Y’ain’t the first, y’know, miss. Though usually y’all go for the horses… should know, though, when Boris here finishes – and I know him well, he’s gettin’ close – he’ll be fillin’ y’up with… well, with glue, basically. Y’know how hot glue burns for a second, then it gets all… gooey and kinda half-solid? His last… oh, four, five deposits into your bank there will be like that, and-”\n\n“He’s in my bladder,” Ember managed to hiss, the effort itself squeezing back along nerves that felt as though they were aflame. Even when Boris the boar didn’t push in, she still felt the echoing, reverberating ache. “Deeper. He’s gonna-”\n\nThe farmer blinked. He leaned to the side, reached for her rump, paused – “May I?” and Ember nodded vigorously – then squished her plush fur and flesh aside to get another look. Despite the discomfort, pain, and growing strain from Boris’s immense weight, the touch still sent a sweet shiver through her loins.\n\n“Ah.” And on top of her the feral shuddered, swallowed a squeal, and pushed forward fast and hard. Ember yelped out, the world spinning around her… and after a moment yet again felt her bladder filling up from the wrong side, the pressure and urgency swelling, tingling in at her, flaring with pain alongside each spurt as he dumped beyond her bladder. “Aye,” the farmer went on, “that… complicates it a bit, don’t it?”\n\nThere he paused again, one hand rubbing at the scruff of his chin. Ember squirmed with discomfort, each spurt spearing up into her organs, the initial sensation of the feral’s shaft stretching her wide tingling with the same sweet pleasure only to switch and zap right back into pain.\n\nThe farmer’s pause stretched on and on…\n\nThen Ember jumped with a sudden unexpected touch, the contact for once forcing her attention away from the feral pumping inside of her. Broad, calloused, yet surprisingly gentle fingers slid down around her bare stomach; the farmer muttered an apology when he brushed across one of her hanging breasts, angled himself further down, and then rubbed in at her lower abdomen, already swelling down from both the volume forced up into her and the pull of gravity trying to tug all of that downwards. The wolfess looked over her shoulder to see him crouching here beside her, massaging her there while he reached behind Boris with the other.\n\nThe boar’s nostrils flared and his lips fluttered in a swift exhalation of breath. Something within the wolfess stirred, and for a moment the sharp-edged pain tingled away into the background and left her instead with the faint, distant sensation of growing urgency, like sitting at her work desk all day without realizing she was going through an entire two-liter of soda. The same familiar warm tingle down beneath her belly, the sensation of growing pressure squeezing out from inside, the tickle of urgency – though now locked behind the boar’s length buried far too deep inside of her. Try as she might to push and squeeze out around him, all she succeeded in doing was reflect that pain back up towards her lower back once more, reminding her of her current predicament.\n\nThe farmer’s massage did help a little bit. One hand there at her bladder, thankfully the outside of it along the fur of her belly, while the other assumedly made the same movements at Boris’s huge, hefty sack, coaxing him into more efficiently emptying his balls inside of her. Where normally the awareness of this urgency gradually grew throughout the course of an afternoon, this time she felt it jerking upwards with each spurt, the muscle walls of her bladder stretching out around the strain added again and again, nerves constantly firing, sphincters stretched apart, valves held forcibly open.\n\nIs that-? The wolfess shifted again, tried to reach down underneath herself, and very quickly decided against this course of action for the way it sent sharp spikes across her spine. Moving on from a two-liter during work to a full fuckin’ Thanksgiving dinner. I feel like I’m gonna burst… It was worse than anything she had ever felt before, this sharp, intense urgency, so strong that she could almost feel it tingling throughout her limbs. It made her want to wriggle and squirm and dance, but each time she moved it also just jabbed right back into her again, a greater, less pleasant reminder of how much the boar had filled her. I wonder how much longer until my bladder just pops like a damn water balloon, and- \n\n“Oh. Oh. Feel that?” The hand along her lower belly paused, prodded up, and then gently pinched around a spot that felt not unlike a wriggling fingertip. “Us pigs, we can move our dicktips ‘round like that. He’s looking… for your… ah. There we go.” Something inside of Ember zapped again. She grunted. “Finishin’ up. Should be droppin’ the plug right around now, and then he-”\n\nBut Ember didn’t hear the rest. Where originally she had felt those short, sharp spikes of pain alongside each thrust or spurt, now suddenly blossomed into a full, bright flame of sensation blooming out from that side of her lower back as the huge feral shifted, the tapered tip of his length poking, prodding, finding the entrance. Every muscle in her abdomen reflexively tensed; it felt like pushing too far in sizing up with a sounding rod, the unfortunately familiar sting and burn that would linger for hours afterward with each touch, each twitch, each movement, only far deeper inside of her body. Vaguely she became aware of a grating noise from somewhere around her, then realized also at a distance that this was coming from herself, her mouth hanging slack, her throat tight.\n\nThere was the swish and slosh of liquid at first, burning hot, feeling as though it sizzled out along her tubes from the inside. Ember managed to swallow, groaned out again, and dug her claws through the smeared mud underneath her. There had been one time the previous year where after perhaps a bottle too much of wine and a few too many fingers slopped inside her similarly heat-swollen spade, she had decided to push herself farther than she had before with a silicone tube, an enema bag, and a saline solution, and had ended up not only filling her bladder so far that it began to squirt out around the sides of the tube, but had also jetted a bit further up inside of herself than she had expected-\n\n-and this felt like that, like pushing the tube deeper and deeper inside herself even though she knew it was already inside her bladder, expecting it to curl around and fill the organ like some kind of slipper snake, when instead it jammed up against the interior extremity, slid around, and poked its way up deeper. The scrape of the tube’s edge dragging along those hypersensitive nerve endings had sent sharp enough of a shock through her drunken system to suddenly spark her awake, and now feeling the boar deposit the glue-like plug along those same boundaries, these final spurts much thicker, grittier, stickier than before, pushing out at the rim, holding it open… Ember swallowed yet again, felt the pressure in her throat, let it stream back out as a tense, shaky groan.\n\n“Too much,” she managed, her voice sounding strange to her. “He’s in too far. He’s – God, I can’t – get him – please, get him off me, I promise, I won’t-”\n\n“Tch.” The farmer shifted, brought both his hands to her swollen belly, and poked and prodded there. Each time he did so sent a mixture of warm comfort spiked through with intense, searing pain through her. “I’m strong, but y’really think I’d be able to roll half a ton of breeding boar offa’ ya? ‘Specially with him fillin’ ya like a water balloon?”\n\n“Please! Please, I can’t take it, I’m-”\n\n“Hey now, hey now. Catch your breath. You with me?” His hands trailed up towards her hips; the farmer adjusted so that he could reach around the massive boar hilted inside of her, the beast’s heavy, satisfied breaths tickling at her ear. “Need ya to breathe in. It’ll hurt like a bitch – sometimes I wake up havin’ to piss so bad that I can feel it back in my fuckin’ kidneys – but you gotta. Ready? One… two… three… four… there. Now let it out. And do it again. Better?” \n\nNot really, she thought, but still she nodded. At least the force of her heat still helped to bury most feeling other than arousal. Even despite the strain, the worry, the pain, and everything else, she could still tell she was so wet that this farm could probably shove his entire hand inside of her – into the proper entrance – with no extra preparation needed. In case the idea hits him.\n\n“Good girl,” he went on, again shifting his posture. Ember could just barely smell him over the stronger, richer musk of Boris on top of her. “That’s a good girl. I know this one here. He’ll take some, ah… four, five minutes to shoot his goo, plug you right up, and then… ah…”\n\nLike the beat of her heart, the thrumming pain of the process echoed through her guts and her lower back, again and again. “What? What’ll happen? Tell me what it is, I swear I’ll – do anything, and-”\n\nThe farmer nodded slowly. His hands slid away from her belly. “Well…” And he scooted himself back to position himself behind the boar. Boris lifted and turned his head, snorting in recognition, and then shuddered again. Ember jumped as the farmer’s fingers prodded against her inner thighs, and she realized he was again rubbing and massaging the feral’s balls. Fucking cannonballs, she thought, dazed; bowling balls. Those big ones that nobody uses. Except – his get used all the time, don’t they? And I’m contributing to that… “Being similarly equipped myself, there’s an easy solution to this that I could-”\n\n“Whatever it is, do it, this – fucking sucks, and yeah, I’m in heat, but-”\n\n“Ah.” He held up a slick, slightly slimy hand, thick strands of discolored juice hanging between his fingers. “You’ll wanna hear it first, miss. Since he’s still up in there doin’ God’s work-” Here he squeezed at her belly again, and once the pressure and pain passed Ember wondered if it would be possible for the juices to squirt even further back up into her. Would it fill my intestines? Or my stomach first, or something? Would I actually be able to taste it? Is that possible…? “-and seems like he’ll be finishing before long, ah…”\n\nThen something else nudged against her head from the other side. Confused, the wolfess blinked, looked over – and brushed her lips across a mud-soaked length of wood, splinters jutting out from here and there all over. The farmer held it in his other hand, and jiggled it in front of her.\n\n“If I… go spelunking right after he dismounts, get my own tool up in there, I should be able to knock his plug loose and you can piss it out. You’ll prob’ly wanna bite down on that, though, miss.”\n\nYet again disbelief surged through her along a wave of that bright pain. All she had wanted to do tonight was sneak into this farm, get mounted and railed by some livestock boar, then have him plug her up so that she would still be carrying his load inside her by the time she would wake up the following morning. Then the plug would pop loose, and he would leak out of her and soak her bed with his wild, animalistic scent, and she would scoop all of that back up inside herself and smear it around until her fur stuck together and her plump spade dripped with his touch and scent more than her own.\n\nAnd most of these she had succeeded, except for the small fact that all of it had gone spectacularly wrong. She swallowed, licked her lips, then leaned forward and sank her teeth into the wood: gritty particles of the mud spread out between her lips and dribbled across her tongue, tasting of soil and old grass and the distant fetid stink of something stagnant, while the wood itself squished into loose fibers between her fangs.\n\n“Mhmm,” she managed around it, nostrils flaring for breath. Boris began to shift… “Mhmm, mmh, mmf-”\n\n…and then he slurped free more than he slid, the wolfess’s stretched innermost walls squeezing around him, her bladder flaring and flexing with the sudden rush and adjustment in pressure, the interior rim tingling, tightening, and then – finally – spritzing out between her legs as he dismounted. Still, though, try as she might to clench down and push, to empty out all of the excess that he had pumped into her, she found that she couldn’t: the muscles squeezed tighter, coming frustratingly close, and then trembled in their imminence, but never pushed over the edge.\n\nLike trying to take a plug that was too large for her, only from the inside instead. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t manage it, and after a moment she let the tension sputter out of her body and realized that she had already bitten the plank so hard that it had begun to push up against the roof of her mouth, her teeth sunken into the material.\n\n“Okay, now,” the farmer said from behind her. Dazed again, the wolfess turned her head to see that he had already guided Boris back into the pen and thrown the lock. “Lemme take a look at what we’ve got goin’ on here…”\n\n…and I’m just another animal, she thought, eyes unfocused. Slow, careful fingers prodded at the protruding rim of her spade; a forefinger and thumb squeezed at the base, and then the blunted tip; he spread her open, touched at her hypersensitive inner walls, ran a fingerpad across the sex-slickened meat there, angled in towards where the boar had inserted himself… and then there was that sensation again, the slight nudge and bump and searing tingle. She flexed, reflexively tried to clench around the finger poking its way up into her urethra, and found that she couldn’t. Just more livestock. He’s not helping me; he’s handling me. I bet this – isn’t the first time he’s had to…\n\n“Ain’t the first time I’ve had to do somethin’ like this,” the farmer muttered. Ember’s ears flicked. “But – Jesus H. Christ, miss. That’s what the inside of a wolf’s pisser feels like?”\n\n“Whaff rr ya-” But then she jerked and twitched again, the entirety of the farmer’s finger buried inside of her, pushing gently up against slick muscular walls, stretching her in ways that felt at once strange, invigorating, wrong, and delightful all at the same time. “Ah, God, careful-”\n\n“I can see this being a regular occurrence if all’a y’all’re like this. Hot dog down a hallway, am I right? Jesus.” A second finger began poking at the entrance there, and to Ember’s mixed shock and sharp, fluttering arousal, it managed to slip in to the first knuckle even despite her focused clenching. “He got way in you, didn’t he? Good job, Boris.”\n\n“Ya, ‘e-” Ember turned her head too far, winced under another spike of pain, and then groaned out around the wood.\n\n“Oh. I see. He got all the way in…”\n\n“Ngah, I wa-” Finally she spat the board back out. Bits of mushy wood and mud scraped across her gums and tongue. “No, I was kidding about that. I’m still here on the ground with my ass and pussy bared to some fucking stranger-” Another reflexive clench shivered through her body, followed by the phantom sensation of the farmer wiggling around inside her bladder. That was a sensation that she knew she would never get used to. “-who’s got two fingers up my fucking peehole since I thought it’d make for a fun night out, and I-”\n\nWhatever she had intended to say next instead warped into a sharp, short shriek, the kind that came out when she knocked her toe into the corner of a desk or slammed her ear in the door of a cupboard. This was much more, though, just like those initial sharp, spiky thrusts deep inside of her, like little fireworks explosions going off in her guts.\n\nYet again the world spun around her. Her jaw tingled from clamping down against itself so hard; the back of her head throbbed with a belligerent ache; her entire lower body, from around the second row of breasts downward, simmered with a slow, searing flame.\n\n“Told you ya’d wanna bite down on the board,” he went on, uninterrupted. With a grunt and huff the farmer lifted himself up, leaned over her again, and then wrapped his large hands around her midsection, rubbing and massaging again. Ember felt an embarrassed blush warm her cheeks at the way that the motion caused some of her extra volume to begin spilling back out of her, finally freed from the lock deep within. “Went n’ managed to knock his plug loose, but it’s still in there.”\n\nShe could certainly feel it. Where the pain was no longer throbbing or growing, still she was kept aware of it, constantly there, tingling out at her if she breathed too deeply or turned too far. Warmth trickled freely from her stretched, gaping urethra, flowing despite her attempts to stop it, despite the farmer’s one and a half fingers still jammed up into the tubing. When he finally pulled free she gasped, twitched, and sprayed again, indulging in the needed release of that pressure.\n\n“So,” he continued, rubbing his fingers down her belly, “I can fix that, too. Like I said, bein’ similarly equipped, I can get into all the same nooks n’ crannies that he did. I’ll take his place – with your permission, o’course – n’ slide right on in, n’… wash the evidence away.”\n\n“Do it,” she said, still blinking through tears. “I don’t care. Do it.”\n\n“Yes ma’am. Ain’t gotta tell me twice. Lemme just…” The few seconds spent in him undoing his belt and opening his pants fly stretched on for far too long, between the lingering pain of the plug and the still-present anticipation of getting her spade filled for a second time. Despite everything that had happened tonight, Ember still found herself wagging her tail and wiggling her hips back at him, enjoying the sensation of plump, wet meat swinging between her legs, of the hypersensitive tingle of overstimulated flesh and skin, of the constant, slimy drip of the boar’s load oozing out of her beyond her control.\n\nThen all of that sizzled and brightened all over again. Fingers squished up amid the sloppy folds of her sex, spread her open, held her back; the tapered tip rubbed up first against the proper hole – she shuddered, reflexively pushed back, wondered if it would be so bad if he were to dump one load where it belonged and then take care of the feral’s mess – then shifted again towards the wrongly stretched one. Those fingers pressed in and held there; the farmer murmured something under his breath; and then Ember’s shoulders pinched together, her back arched, her neck stretched out against that odd sensation yet again, the feeling of fullness pressing towards her bladder from the wrong side, nudging in at the tight rim there, and quite easily poking its way in.\n\nYet again like a water balloon with the end untied, she felt the little spritz and spray before the farmer’s shaft sank up into her bladder, stretching the first squeezing rim around it. Ember expected it this time, but still the actual event sent a cold shiver through her body… while the awareness of him being right there, inside her bladder, kept her arousal peaking.\n\n“Y’alright?”\n\n“Yeah, I’m…”\n\nThe board hovered in front of her muzzle. “Sure y’don’t want this again?”\n\nEmber looked at it, sighed, and then parted her lips to clamp down around it again. Humiliating yet arousing, just like everything else. I can’t fucking believe it, she thought; now I’ve got this stranger shoved up inside of me, in my goddamn bladder, and he – but a sudden flick and tingle inside of her made her yelp around the soft wood. “Mmh-”\n\n“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Not like I can see where I’m goin’. Boris did a li’l of this, but – actually, our tips are… a li’l, what’s the word…”\n\nThere was that feeling again, like his finger scraping around the far wall of her bladder. Ember winced. “Mmf – ah – y-”\n\n“Nah. That’s all dick, miss. Prehensile! That’s it. So if I can just… find…”\n\nFor a half-second the world blinked to black. Then Ember was sucking in a long, sharp breath through her nostrils, blinking through the pain.\n\n“Oof,” the farmer muttered. “Definitely felt that. Yeah. That’s the spot. Get ready; this is gonna hurt. You got it?”\n\n“Mmh – mm-”\n\n“Mhmm?”\n\n“…Mhmm-”\n\n“Good. I’ll need… a minute…”\n\nHis hands settled in on her waist, gripping firmly, confidently. The touch was at once deeply arousing as it was terrifying, having some idea of what was to come, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to squirm away. Ember felt her breathing start to pick up and worked to slow it back down, drawing in through her nose, letting it fizzle out between her lips resting along the wood. The farmer shifted again, wiggled his shaft within her spade while his tip remained rooted past the far wall, drew in a breath, let it out, drew in another, then held there… and at first there was nothing.\n\nBut then Ember felt her insides stir like a pot of water on the stove just beginning to boil. The heat began from deep inside, small and gentle at first, then quickly swelling out into a bright, searing pain that stretched tiny fingers up across all of her nerves. Right as that began, so too did the farmer relax, and through the sensation Ember distantly realized what he meant by saying wash it out. His piss poured inside of her, flooding those deep inner tubes and swelling back around the glue-like semisolid consistency of the feral’s plug, apparently wedged off to the side around his own tip; the pressure there swelled, grew, ballooned until the wolfess feared she would vomit from the pain, and then with his hands still gripping her waist the farmer jerked back barely an inch.\n\nThat pressure suddenly released, then swelled all over again. Another damn two-liter, she thought, heat-drunk and pain-dazed; from a distance she was aware of her bladder ballooning, pushing out against her already swollen, tender belly from inside as the farmer, this stranger, emptied his into hers. He sighed with relief as he did so, the wet heat stirring deep within her body, washing the remnants of the feral’s plug free so that she only occasionally felt its presence inside her, when it bumped up against the stretched muscles of the organ itself.\n\n“There we… go…” he half-moaned, still slowly pulling out as he did so. Ember’s grip on the board loosened; she realized she was drooling, and pushed back against him in an attempt to keep him inside – and then he slipped free while still draining out into and across her. For a moment the paired flows sprayed together, jetting straight out of her freshly stretched innards, his mark mixed with hers, further mixed with the feral’s load; the warmth that poured out of her was slightly gelatinous, a little bit chunky, somewhat slimy, and she felt the thicker globs of it push their way free and sputter out, no doubt decorating the front of the farmer’s pants.\n\nIt all splattered and smacked as it coursed out across the floor of the barn underneath her. Ember whimpered with relief, at first incapable of believing how good it felt to empty out like this: her legs trembled, her tail flicked, her vision swam, and for a moment she thought she might faint from the sheer, sweet pleasure pulsing through here, just barely fringed with the same tingling pain from before. She clenched, squeezed, pushed to extrude everything out of herself, not even caring that she was doing so on the floor of someone’s barn in the middle of the night, not even caring that she reeked of lupine heat and feral boar seed.\n\nPissing someone else’s piss… she thought, reaching down between her legs to spread her spade and rub her fingers across herself. Two fingertips quite easily slid up into the source of the stream, then flicked back out again. Why haven’t I thought of that before? Those two huge hands wrapped around her midsection again, fingers spreading around tender swollen nipples, and squeezed to help with the rest.\n\nMost of it came as what she recognized as piss, but those last few squirts and spurts were instead thicker and jellylike, likely the remnant of Boris’s gel congealing among his own load and the farmer’s additions. Panting through flared nostrils, Ember pushed a few more times, swallowed, tasted mud, spat the board out, then moved to stand up – and instead rolled over onto her side, sprawling out across the ground. She looked up at the farmer behind her, his half-hard shaft still hanging out of his pants, dripping from the tapered tip.\n\n“Hey,” she breathed, and spat a few more splinters out of her mouth. “You’re kinda hot, y’know. Thanks for that. I don’t think… anyone else would’ve…”\n\n“Mhmm.” He shook himself off a bit. “And you’re in heat, and probably a li’l delirious. You’re gonna be feeling that for… ah, a week or so. But, miss, I gotta say,” and he grunted as he bent down to scoop his arms underneath her, “you’ve got the fuckin’ loosest pisser I’ve ever seen in my life.”\n\n“Thanks.” One of Ember’s arms swung down into the air. With effort she tugged it back up, plopped it between her legs, and sank three fingers into the plush meat of her piss- and cum-soaked spade again. “I’ve been working hard at it.”\n\n“So’s Boris.”\n\n“Hah. Yeah. Round two, maybe? Ah – don’t – jostle me, I’m-”\n\n“I know, I know. You’re in no shape to go anywhere tonight.” He shouldered the barn door open. “Sure, ain’t a good look for me to be draggin’ some naked gal back to my house at this time a’ night, but I mean… neither’s it a good look for you to be crawlin’ ‘round in the mud underneath a pig’s huge goddamn undercarriage. So tell ya what.”\n\nEmber looked up at him. Still she felt his, and Boris’s, various fluids dripping out of her stretched spade…\n\n“You’ll spend the night on the couch. I’ll go n’ get your clothes, get ‘em nice n’ washed, and then in the morning if you’re feeling up to it, you’re free to go. Sound good?”\n\n“Can I – ah-” She gripped onto the firm, taut muscle of his arm. “Could I get some towels? I’ve got some, uh… unfinished business, and…”\n\nDark eyes flashed down at her. The farmer thought about this for a moment. “I’d offer to help with that,” he rumbled, “but I figure I should at least take you to dinner tomorrow and get to know your name first. You’re already gonna have something to remember me, and Boris, by.”\n\n“I’m a wolf. You can’t get me pregnant.”\n\nHe hoisted a leg over the short fence at the end of the pasture, then swung the other over as well. “No, but you’ll be sore for some two weeks, and prob’ly won’t be able to even think of pig dick without a bit of regret.”\n\nEmber smirked. “Oh, we’ll see about that…”\n\n~ ~ ~\n\nThe wolfess couldn’t help but moan out between gritted teeth and parted lips, chin resting on one arm while the other flopped somewhere above and behind her head. Her entire body lurched forward and back, forward and back with the rhythmic motions, each one bringing with it the now familiar sensation of the boar’s shaft pumping up inside of her, pressing out against her tubing from the inside, and wedging itself past the tightly muscled rim of her bladder, teasing at the entrance there so that each time the farmer pulled out he brought with himself a little spritz of hot, fresh piss. His hands around her waist, fingers rubbing, pinching at her nipples, pushing in at her already deliberately overfull bladder; his breath on her neck; his balls swinging against her from underneath, not quite as sizeable as those belonging to his livestock, but still impressive, and then – the way his fingers tightened around her, how he thrust forward, buried himself inside of her, wriggled that prehensile tip around to find the perfect spot, then drew back, thrust again, and shuddered with the force of his orgasm once it hit him.\n\nAnd within two spurts Ember always felt it too, the thick, sludgy consistency of his load squirting out inside of her, blossoming within the hot liquid of her mark stored inside. The extra pressure squeezed out against her belly from inside and made her squirm, returning her to that same point where she felt she might burst if she moved too much. She loved the sensation of being able to feel his throbs within her spade and pulsing out at her urethra, accompanied by the gradual increase in tension within her lower belly; then the aftermath was always fantastic, too, sitting on the toilet or, as she preferred, squatting out back with both paws spreading the plump meat of her sex, so that she could watch the congealed globs sputter out of her, and feel them slop free alongside the wisps of his plug loosely spurted inside.\n\nPanting, still buried deep, the farmer leaned over her and nipped at her ear in the way he had discovered she enjoyed over these past few months. Ember turned her head to nuzzle back against him, sighed in turn, then paused… and opened her eyes to glare at him. Above her, the boar’s eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth had fallen open, and now his shoulders shook in the sweet, gentle relief that had also become so familiar to her.\n\nThe hot pressure within her lower belly continued to grow, swelling from inside like a water balloon left on the faucet. The sensation of urgency grew to immediacy, to that point where she knew where if there hadn’t been something as wide around as three of her fingers forced through the only valid escape route, she would freely leak and dribble from the burst dam whether she wanted to or not.\n\nSquirming more as that pressure continued to grow, sending the little spikes of sensation up towards her lower back, she managed to roll her head to the side to look at him more fully.\n\n“Do you have to piss inside every time you fuck my bladder?”\n\n“That ain’t a complaint,” he purred in return, leaning in to touch his broad snout to her more angular muzzle. “An’ you know it. I knew you’d be comin’ over today, and I knew you’d’a drunk a shitload a’ water again, so I made sure to do the same. It’s only fair. ‘Sides-” He tugged back a little bit, releasing the pressure somewhat. “You’re nice n’ plugged up, and I’m still sopping wet. So you can’t say you don’t like it.”\n\nEmber tried to maintain her glare, but couldn’t and instead shuddered beneath another wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort. “I wish you weren’t right…”\n\n“No you don’t. I’m a farmer.” His broad fingers moved up, slid beneath her chin, turned her head to face him again. “I know my livestock…”\n\n“Ooh. Stop that. You’ll make me cum again.”\n\n“Well, we’ll have to bring you back down to the barn for that, and…” He grunted, twitched inside of her, then twitched again. “Okay. Now I’m done.”\n\nEmber squirmed. “Not if I have anything to say about it. You said something about the barn?...”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Ember took a moment to rest against the lone tree standing here within the open field, the wolfess’s knees halfway buckled underneath her, her tail curled between her legs, her breath hot and thick in her throat and chest. Again and again she exhaled the low, shivering sighs, feeling as though she had just climbed a tall hill – but when she looked back all she could see within the steady stillness of the middle of night was the low undulations of the open pasture.

And yet still her entire body tingled with exertion, muscles tensing and relaxing, chest heaving, ears trying to flatten against her head. She groaned, swallowed, partially doubled over as another wave of sensation hit her, and then before she could stop herself reached down to swiftly undo the button and zipper of her pants fly and slipped a paw underneath the matted, soaked material of her underwear.

But instead of relieving this twitching, urgent need, the sensation of fingers pressing down against the protruding base of her heat-swollen spade, squeezing against the supple, succulent flesh to squish it together, then turning and plunging two side by side straight up inside of herself, sinking so quickly, so firmly to the knuckles that amid the still night her ears perked to the meaty squelch of the movement – instead all of this just further fueled the flame simmering inside of her. Again the wolfess licked her lips and now let her tongue flop out of her mouth, other arm held above her head against the smooth bark of the tree, paw churning as she worked in at herself.

Despite the midsummer warmth swelling around her, Ember honestly expected to be able to see her heavy breaths puffing out into the air before her. She focused there until her tail lashed and her knees knocked together again, and then with immense force of will the wolfess slurped her fingers back out of herself, shook them off in the air – a few thick strands of bubbly juice flung free – and lifted her paw to her muzzle. Her own scent washed over her with a nearly physical impact, her ears perking forward and her chest swelling out as she deeply inhaled; another shiver, clench, and jerk zapped through her, and before she could tug her panties down out of the way another squirt of fresh arousal jetted out from within the folds of her full sex, further staining the cloth.

She sighed, the sound shivering with the pleasure that still reverberated through her body, and tenderly settled her underwear back around herself. The elastic material sucked in around the protruding meat and did very little to hide it, translucent in its wetness around rich, warm pink made deeper with the peak of her heat; she had to tug her pants fly forward to zip up around it, then wiped her fingers off on the fringes of her scarf – already it had become a little bit crusty and matted, from how many times she had done this since stepping off the nearest farm road about two miles back – before she could take a moment to catch her breath.

Then finally collected again as much as her heat would allow, she pushed away from the tree, wobbled under the shaky jellylike consistency of her own legs, and continued on her way towards the low structure barely visible within the darkness at the foot of this low, undulating ridge. Not really a hill at all: she could barely feel the decline as she stepped down it, even with all of her senses heightened by the intensity of the need.

Four days of this so far, she thought for the hundredth time tonight, so after this, after tonight, I’ll be on the way out…

But that took making it through tonight. For each of those four days her morning jogs to try to shake out some of the excess energy took her along the exterior of this farm here, and each and every day was hell trying to deal with the hypersensitivity of her plump spade bouncing, jiggling, jostling within her shorts, dripping down her legs, searing through the fabric faster than her own sweat so that she had to wash the things every day, to say nothing about the intoxicating, alluring smells of the livestock. Time and time again she would look over the rickety excuse for a fence and see the idle lumps of cows milling about the grass; the fuller, sharper, somewhat more angular shapes of horses bunching together, brush-like tails swishing back and forth and showing the occasional tantalizing peek at what they carried underneath; and then further down the road, popping briefly along the driveway that would snake through the heart of the property to the house standing in the center, not pigs but rather boars.

And every time Ember thought about how easy it would be to angle herself to the side and vault over the fence. The maps online showed the property to be some fifteen acres square; there was no way that the farmer, and so far she had observed the place to be run by only the one, would be able to even know that she had come by for a visit.

In fact, it had been only just the day before that upon turning the corner to make the loop back home, one of the cows had managed to make its way right up to the fence. Ember had slowed in her pace and looked at it, and it had just looked back at her, idle interest rumbling across its face; the wolfess looked down the road one way and then the other, came closer, reached out, gave it a pat… then couldn’t resist doing what she had just done tonight, in slipping a paw down inside her underwear. Yesterday, though, instead of wiping it off on her scarf she offered it to the cow instead, and-

And she struggled to refocus her attention as the shape of the barn loomed high and dark in the night, entirely unlit save for a sole lantern somewhere inside. Slowly, carefully, Ember adjusted her step and crept around to the other side, heart thumping in her throat. Even though she knew that she was safe, even though she knew that she could get in and then get back out before anyone had any idea-

-so long as there aren’t any hidden cameras or anything like that-

-the nervousness still continued to tighten around her throat the further she went. However, so too did the excitement, the arousal, grow: underfoot the open, luscious grass of the pasture gave way instead to thin gravel and dirt paths, showing signs of frequent, regular traffic here. A little trail led around to the other side of the barn and then off between the shallow hills of the field in the other direction; Ember took another breath, smelled herself on her scarf and her fingers, and hugged close to the exterior wall of the barn, trying to make as small a silhouette as she could.

Before long the scent of the animals within the walls overtook her own in-heat musk, pushing the familiar aroma back down beneath a thick, rich, heady stench, pungent and acrid and bitter yet still delicious. Once she turned the corner again, her still slightly damp paw resting up against the doorway, the wolfess leaned in, slid her muzzle into the gap in the entrance, closed her eyes, and took a deep, slow whiff of the thick air inside. All of those smells swirled in through her nostrils, tickled at the back of her throat, and jetted down into her lungs, in that moment almost making her chest heave with the sudden punch.

Cows, she thought, and opened her eyes – and sure enough after the few seconds it took to adjust, all of those big round eyes, and big round other things, looked back at her. Most were asleep while a few stood around in the way that bovines tended to do, and one or two of them turned their heads and sniffed towards their visitor. Maybe on some other day… Ember hovered there between thoughts and often-visited fantasies about sliding herself underneath one of these large beasts, or more often behind with the paintbrush-like tail flung over her shoulder, one arm gripping the hindleg while the other pumped forward to coat herself to the elbow in thick, sticky slickness, and… and again she drew herself back out of the barn, taking a few deep breaths of the sweet outdoor air to clear her head.

The mental fog lifted somewhat, though still she felt she could taste the distinct tang of bovine presence as she wobbled her way towards the next stables in line, visible over the next ridge. Tonight Ember had made the journey out here in little more than a sports bra long enough to cover only her uppermost pair of breasts, the landing-lights of smaller nipples down her belly having swollen out to small handfuls under the influence of her heat, and then the smallest cutoff shorts she could find: the sensation of the air on her bare fur helped to distract her from her heat, and about halfway across the field she had started to wonder if it would be more comfortable to see if she could mash the plump, protruding girth of her spade down one of her pants legs instead of try to keep it pouched in the center.

That had led to her first self-care break.

Once at the next building she again paused to catch her breath, swallowed, and lifted her paw to her muzzle, cursing herself for not taking the time to smear over her scent with one of the cow’s. In here, though, something on the air set her tail to twitching and her ears to tingling; Ember drew in yet another breath, swallowed again, and nosed in through the door, excited tension simmering within her-

-and then immediately drew back at a blast of noise whinnying out from one of the corners. Horses, she thought, heart pounding – and indecision mounting. The horses were not what she had come here for tonight, but even still… the wolfess peeked back in again, blinked against the darkness, and swept her gaze through the stalls inside, much closer to the lovely creatures than she had ever come before. And even from here, even in this lighting, she could see the glistening sheen of their pelts, the luxurious manes, the sleek, tight ridges of muscle along their shoulders, their bodies, their haunches.

One of them was facing the other way. Ember peered closer, watching the swish and sway of the tail; she had hoped that this was one of the farms that bound their horses’ tails at the base, but very early on had been disappointed. Still, though, there was a flash of the thick, dense wrinkled skin of the donut-like tailhole, hanging heavily away from the smooth curves of the rump around it; then the luscious folds of skin draping down underneath, the mare’s sex similarly thick, moist, needy.

One of her morning jogs past this farm, prior to this heat, had given her the lovely sight of a stallion mounting a mare like this. The musculature along the legs, the fervent abandon in the way each tossed their head and mane, the energetic neighing, the slick, wet slopping of meat inside of meat audible even across the fence – there had been nobody else around, so of course the wolfess had stopped to watch, and may or may not have taken her phone out to catch a short video from where she stood. That had neither been the first nor the last time she had thought about hopping the fence here, and now that she was finally here, now that the mare put herself on full display for her visitor, one glistening eye looking back along the sleek, shapely body-

-Ember had to deliberately keep herself from entering the barn and hopping the stable door, though when she left the building she had to push herself against the wall and take a few moments with her head tilted back, her mouth open, and her fingers buried inside of herself again, the slick, sticky warmth now soaking well through the fabric of her shorts as well.

There’ll be other chances, she told herself, again and again. One of those horses had watched her with a glimmer in its eye, daring her to come in, wanting her to indulge herself and each of them… I’ll just do the one tonight, and if I don’t get caught – and I won’t – I can come back. God, fuck, but I should’ve brought a camera.

Shakily, she drew her paw back out of her pants, shook it off again, and this time smeared her own wetness along the fur of her upper lip. That rich, familiar spice followed her as she pushed away from the horse stables, the fly of her pants once more opened to the nighttime air. I’m not gonna be able to take it for much longer, she thought, scanning the field for her true target. I’m gonna have to sit down and work this out before I get there, and it might be too late by then, or… but the further she delved into her own thoughts, the stronger her resolve grew, until within another few minutes she stumbled through the door of the next barn in line, this one carrying a thicker, wider, somewhat less familiar scent to it, steeped and magnified within the close summer air. Hinged doors on the outside led to a small fenced pen, trough backed up along one side with muddy tracks that put her in mind of one kind of animal – and when she threw the doors wide and stepped in, the wolfess’s heart leapt in her chest upon seeing that she was right.

In the darkness the bright, beady eyes of the massive boars looked up at her. Just like the cows most of them were asleep, but one in particular near the back corner sniffed and snuffled at the air, wanting to taste its visitor; Ember looked back at it, waited for its eyes to meet hers, then flicked and ear and gave a wink.

For good measure, she thought, and then she started her way into the barn. Bare footpaws squished and squelched into the thick mud that blanketed the boards here, soft and cool; the idea of wearing such a sharp, visible stain in evidence of her detour tonight helped to further drive her forward, paws coming up to slip her bra off. Even just the touch of the still air within the barn sent a shiver ricocheting down her back despite the relative warmth, and she had to catch herself against the nearby pillar for support; still watching the boar across the space, its pelt bearing tatters and wisps of discarded hay from where it had been laying before her entry, she then reached down, folded her paw yet again beneath her pants and underwear, and in one smooth movement dropped those to her ankles.

She didn’t even bother to pick up or fold her clothing. Ember left them where they lay, stepping out into the middle of all of these livestock animals, fully nude with nothing holding back the thick, intoxicating aroma of her heat. On the way over she actually slowed her pace so that she could taste it herself, nostrils flaring: the sharp spice of lupine arousal twisted and mixed with the deep, rich stench of pig, then packed together underneath the smooth, earthy moisture of the mud and hay between her pawpads.

Past her own breathing and that of the animals around here, the sucking of the mud around her footpaws angled her ears down again and again, the only noise in the darkness – and a sharp, constant reminder of the realization pulsing in the back of her mind, I’m doing this. I’m really doing this.

On reaching the back corner of the barn Ember had started to shiver, not with cold but with anticipation. She braced her paws on the gate, a simple deadbolt setup, and then lowered herself down – and took a moment to relish the sticky squish of the mud soaking into and staining her grey fur. I hope it dries, she thought, leaning forward towards the boar behind the door. I hope it crusts up and I get to feel it flaking and peeling when I walk back home. I hope it smears in so far that I can’t put my clothes back on and I have to walk home naked and-

And a sticky, slimy wetness slopped across her arm and yanked her out of her thoughts. The wolfess jerked back in surprise and only afterwards realized that that was just the boar coming forward to introduce itself to her: sharp, surprisingly deep eyes glittered up at her from behind the gate, its rounded snout wrinkling and wriggling as it sniffed at her, no doubt tasting her heat as powerfully as if it had buried that muzzle right in between her legs.

Ember settled back down and indulged herself in that thought for a moment, pushing her paws forward and spreading her fingers apart to let it sniff at her. This one displayed thick tusks pushing out from in between its lips, and it kept its gaze on her even as it investigated her paws, her fingers, the coating of sticky slickness half-dried into her fur; she turned this way and that to touch, to feel, to pat the beast, learning it in turn. Its breath puffed out in hot, quick bursts; the wolfess imagined those breaths tickling along her pubic fur and between her thighs, and before she could stop herself she stood back up, felt the mud slurp down off her knees, then came forward – and leaned fully over the gate, deliberately spreading her thighs around the creature’s angular snout as she did so.

Her height put her directly where she wanted, and she had to keep one paw on the gate to keep from crumpling down across the feral as it nuzzled forward into the plush, plump flesh of her swollen spade, the drags of breath feeling like little bouts of suction pulling away at her lips. She swallowed, shuddered, and grinded forward, then realized this rough, damp surface she gripped was not the wood of the gate but rather the boar’s head; the wolfess looked down, saw that it was still looking at her, tilted her head, rubbed her paw to the side, felt over the ear, rubbed back.

It nuzzled up into the touch, broad tongue slopping out across her already-wet sex, and issued a sputtering, guttural grunt that was just so intensely pig that she couldn’t help but bark out a short laugh. Delighted, reassured – the feral was definitely as interested in her as she was in it – she leaned forward again, pushed her paws along the wide barrel of its body with more confidence, approached the tail… brushed it aside… and yet again felt her breath catch in her throat.

Good. Mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed. No curlicue tail like in all the cartoons; instead it was a small, bushy sprig, easily pulled aside to show the dense, dank folds of the crusted tailhole underneath, but then more importantly underneath that the full, wide swell of impressive, intimidating balls, large enough to change the profile silhouette of the beast. Ember shivered again and continued forward to curl her fingers as far around the boar’s sack as she could, now doubled fully over the beast: the damp heat radiating off of its undercarriage here felt as though it should steam out into the nighttime air, and before long she realized that the moisture slipping across her fingerpads was sweat gathering in between.

A low rumble of pleasure dripped from between her parted lips. One paw still massaging at the boar’s promise, she redirected the other down beneath her bent body, felt for the back of the beast’s head, and tugged it more firmly into place against her. Its – his – slick, wet lips felt like so many sloppy folds of slimy meat rubbing and slurping right back around her, coating her in the sticky froth of feral saliva, while her tender, sensitive nipples slipped back and forth along his coarse pelt, the sensation at once aggravating yet intoxicating.

The wolfess held herself there for a little while longer, grinding forward, rocking back, head stretching back with shivering enjoyment, shoulders rising, back arching. Again and again the waves of pleasure pushed through her: there was just… something about the sensation of the feral’s tongue against, around, and inside of her, easily parting through the sloppy folds of succulent meat, the boar trying to draw out the rich, salty warmth of her pleasure.

Then, finally, she braced her paws on the gate again, fumbled for the lock – “I can’t take it anymore,” she heard herself say, whispering out into the barn – and threw it open, stumbling back as it bumped against her legs. Breath in her throat, the juice of her arousal mixed with feral drool sopping through the no longer soft fur of her inner thighs, she stumbled backwards, felt the mud suck and pull at her footpaws, wobbled – and fell to her rump, the mess splattering up and around her.

Before her stood the boar, confused at the sudden opening of his pen yet still curious, still interested. Immediately he dropped his head and snuffled at where she had just stood, following the trail of foggy drips and sprays through the mess. That’s me, Ember thought, breathless; that’s mine. He’s interested in me. He’s… oh, God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m really, finally doing this. I’m…

She watched from a distance as her body moved on its own. Paws squished down into the muck, fingers spread to feel the gritty sludge slurp up in between; her tail swished behind her, dragging through the grime like a paintbrush; she lifted up, pulled against the suction tug of the wetness, rolled herself over – felt her breasts and her smaller nipples jiggle and swing underneath her, then shivered with the same sensation dragging along her plump, protruding spade.

Wrapped up in the feelings of her own body and heat, Ember folded her arms underneath her chin and held herself there, just swinging her hind end back and forth, back and forth. Hefty breasts swollen further with her need hung forward along her chest and neck; she felt the drag and pull of the smaller humps along her belly, weighing her down as her hips rose higher; and then strongest, heaviest, wettest, the limp slp-shlup-slp of her hanging spade as she swung it side to side, smacking against her already-wet inner thighs, squishing in against itself.

Then her ears perked, her hackles shuddered, her tail swished – and smacked sideways against the snout of the boar now digging his nose in underneath its base. There was that breath again, hot and hungry, and the sputtering lips, the sloppy tongue; the wolfess shivered, looked over her shoulder, and reached down to spread herself for him, able to hear the wet shluck as slick lips tugged apart from one another.

“C’mere,” she murmured, more to herself than to the feral. “That’s right, come here… right here on the ground, why don’t you-”

And the breath puffed out of her chest when he moved to climb on top, so much bone and muscle and meat pressing down against her from above and behind. Startled by his weight, Ember squirmed to find a comfortable position underneath the beast, then shifted her paw further back: already the thing jerked and thrust with fervent interest, gladly taking the invitation offered to him, and before long she felt the telltale wet warmth streaking across her rump, her thigh, the outside of her leg. Still, though, that nervousness remained: he was heavy, far more so than she had expected, and already her arms and legs tingled with the strain.

Words died in her throat. All she wanted was this, and the excitement redoubled again the first time she felt the slick, tapered length of his shaft brush across and then between her fingers. So, so hot, slightly greasy all across the surface; she wrapped her fingers around him, gave a stroke and a squeeze, felt him throb in turn, then shifted again, angled him down between her legs, deliberately teased him around within the outermost folds of her sex, and then – he found his mark and thrust forward.

Sweet, bright delight splashed throughout her, the hypersensitivity of her heat sparkling across the whole of her awareness. Without realizing it Ember dropped her muzzle to her paws and rumbled out with pleasure, hips wiggling side to side underneath the boar. He’s inside me, she thought, caught between disbelief and wonder. Just a little bit, but – he’s really… really inside me, and… and he was hot, so hot. Ember squeezed, shivered, then pushed again as he started to draw back, not wanting him to pull out.

I want to smell like pig, she thought, slipping her paw forward to slop her fingers amid the swampy heat of her spade. I want him to coat me in everything he’s got, to fill me up so that next time I touch myself it’ll smell like an open barn… Behind her he adjusted again, snorted, and started to move forward once more. Ember caught his tapered tip along her fingers to guide him back in. I want him to pound me like a fucking sow. Fill me up. You deserve to breed, you huge, ugly beast, and I-

First came that familiar, delicious warmth pushing up against her, rubbing across tender, sensitive flesh – and then suddenly an also-familiar flash of sparkling discomfort, bright and sharp enough to send a cold chill shivering across her shoulders from the pit of her stomach. Ember yelped underneath the boar, already stuck in place with his weight holding her down, trying to grab onto something for support yet unable to find it amid the mud and grime of the barn.

That’s the wrong – I can’t – oh, God, it’s-

She gritted her teeth, fangs clacking together, and sucked in a quick breath through flared nostrils. That searing heat increased, strengthened, and prickled out from the inside of her abdomen, sending a tingling spike of uncomfortable pain sharp enough to cut through the overwhelming pleasure of her heat, as the thin tapered tip of the boar’s hard shaft plunged forward – into her urethra.

By no means was this an unfamiliar sensation: many of her alone time sessions at home involved her spread out along the other side of her mattress, multiple towels laid down over the sheets with her various tubes of lube nearby, and the multiple fold-out packs of all different kinds of implements. Straight, polished steel rods, the thinnest about a third the diameter of a pencil and the thickest – so far – about as wide around as both of her index fingers held together, thought she had only managed to work one finger to the knuckle inside of herself that way; longer, softer ribbed silicone beads of gradually increasing size, good stretching practice; a battery-powered cone-shaped rod with doubled as a vibrator; and even a few bullet-shaped plugs with clean, sharp holes drilled through, allowing her to continue practicing that stretch while still able to relieve herself without having to interrupt the session.

But this would be the first time in a while she had had something up there, and also the first time without any sort of preparation. The cold chill vibrated back up her shoulders and punched the back of her head with a shock of dizziness as the boar thrust further forward, its naturally slickened, slimy shaft providing its own lubrication for plunging into her, stretching the tight-muscled rim at the mouth of the entrance there, pushing up into her inner tubing.

The beast huffed in her ear, his breath loud and sticky messy, nasal, guttural. Ember couldn’t help but grimace and turn away from his breath, reflexively clenching down around his poorly-aimed cock; in response he whuffed urgently and pushed forward again, forcing another yelp and gasp out of her. Already the tingling ache had begun to vibrate out from within her loins, the same sort of sensation that hovered within her system for a day or two after a really good, intense session: memories of sinking those metal rods inside herself one at a time flooded back through her thoughts, starting with the second smallest and working her way up, then getting to the point where she could take two at once, and three, and feel them clacking and knocking against one another…

…then the first time she had managed a finger inside of herself, claw carefully trimmed, paw gloved with the nitrile thoroughly smeared in the thick, chunky surgical lube. Such a unique feeling, so far different from fingering herself in the normal fashion: tighter, hotter, stronger… better, almost. Even just to the first knuckle, that first time she had managed two separate finishes just from squeezing around the end of her finger and popping it in and out, until the peak of her arousal jetted out into her palm, and she couldn’t help but release her bladder as well, and-

-and then the odd, distant, deep flick within her abdomen, as though some switch had been grasped and thrown. Her legs trembled, her toes curled, and on instinct she arched her back and tried to clench back down, attempting to close off the flow before it came: this was the sensation of pushing herself to piss, of crossing the threshold between I have to and I can’t stop it now, yet the relief itself never actually came. Instead the pressing urgency continued, sizzling, simmering, strengthening as though her bladder were directly filling up from outside.

The wolfess’s eyes flashed open; her body tightened; her back straightened as much as it could; she took in a breath, held it, and let it right back out. Perhaps it was. That was the feeling of the long, silicone rope pushing so, so deep inside of her, the little bulbs of its beads popping one by one past the valve hidden within her insides, plunging into simmering, sloshing warmth. It was more a vague awareness of the sensation than the actual feeling of it, but it was certainly there – and she knew that if the boar were for some reason to pull back and dismount, that forcibly-opened valve would sputter and flap against its mouth, and her invaded bladder would naturally drain itself out through the opened floodgates.

The first time she had managed to get that deep, there had been nothing she could do about the constant slow trickle of piss out around the length of the toy, but here, now, there was no such leakage around the boar’s length. She could feel him there inside of her bladder, keeping the pressure valve open around himself, the heat of her urgency swirling and sloshing around him, soaking him in mark so fresh that it had not yet left her body; each thrust sent a shock of pressure up through her, the nerves within her body signaling to her, too full, need relief now, then trickling back away as he drew back… and then suddenly spiking again with the next.

How – fucking long is he? she thought, trying to focus, to feel out what he had for her. Already her back ached with his oppressive weight, the feral dancing awkwardly forward and back amid the throes of his urgency. There was nothing she could do about this, other than grit her teeth and bear down every time she anticipated him again thrusting inside, forcing her bladder back open, plunging up into the volume there, and then dragging back out again, the little spritzes and sprays of her mark remaining caught within her body, his shaft squeezing out at her inner walls too tightly to allow any leakage.

Frustrating yet delicious; uncomfortable yet deeply pleasurable; worrying, dizzying… intoxicating, arousing, the captured wolfess lurched forward and back beneath the feral’s fervent thrusts, her paw still spread around the plump base of her sex, more squishing her swollen lips in around him instead of spreading herself open. Even with the sharp sparkle of pain every time he forced himself into her bladder again, even with the uncomfortable scrape and drag along her insides, she still loved the firm, wet impact of his body against hers, those massive balls more knocking against her than swinging. Try as she might to adjust and redirect him out of her, every time the animal pounded forward all of her thoughts spun and muddled together like the surface of a lake disturbed by a thrown pebble.

Or – more a boulder rolled off a nearby cliff. Ember swallowed, licked her lips, tasted the gritty earthiness of mud where her muzzle lay against the ground. Dazed, she half-opened her eyes and looked up: the other boars watched the two of them with varying degrees of interest through the slats in their gates, broad flat snouts wrinkling as they sniffed the air.

The boar rocked a few steps back each time he pulled out, the smooth, slimy surface of his hard shaft tugging along the interior of Ember’s system as he went. Each time he did so she distantly hoped that he would keep on going, that he would come all the way out and then fix his aim, but to no avail: his immense weight would draw, totter, and settle, then suddenly swing forward again like a wrecking ball against her hiked rump. More like two wrecking balls, she thought, once more feeling the dank heat nudge up against her backside; it was insufferable, feeling all of his extended length snake back up inside of her, having it nudge against the entrance to her bladder again and push there until the force overcame the resistance, and then her entire body twitched and she gritted her teeth again, going through that sensation of needing to piss yet being completely unable to all over again.

He smells, doesn’t he? Ember thought, taking the effort to turn her head a little further. I bet this thing’s musk is nice and strong and I just can’t smell it over my own heat. Oh, man, I think he’s… getting close, I know these animals usually don’t go that long… She grunted, turned her head the other way, and finally brought her paws forward to try to lift herself up a bit. On top of her the boar also grunted, hot breaths puffing out over her shoulder; when she looked back at him, he actually caught and returned her gaze, beady eyes half-lidded yet focused, as though he knew what he was doing, as though he enjoyed holding her down like this and filling her from the wrong spot.

You’re mine, those eyes said, and I’m gonna make it so you and everybody else knows it. You’re gonna smell like me. When you next piss, it’s gonna be nothing but my seed, and…

…or, Ember realized, thoughts melding back into her own, it won’t be anything, will it? Because pigs – when they cum, they – ah, God, he’s… really getting close, I…

Thick, slimy drool dribbled down her neck, flattening her fur into a smooth, shiny river valley just the same as spare wetness – her arousal, the sludge from his sheath, perhaps some fresh mark that had managed to squirt its way around his cock keeping her plugged – soaked her backside. Each thrust forced another grunt and groan out of her, pleasure mixed with pain: now the boar remained hilted deep inside, sloshing her overfull bladder in against itself with each thrust, poking at her deepest insides, filling her with sensation unlike anything she had felt before even with her previous practices.

One of her friends had once managed to work a small bullet vibe into the same spot here, and tugged it so it squeezed against the bladder opening from inside…

Then, yet again, another sharper, deeper pain shocked through her, like the sensation of knocking her shin on a corner but radiating out from her lower back. Her first panicked thought was that his weight had become too much for her, but then the boar huffed, drew back, and pushed forward again, and the pain flashed into existence once more – and again, and again, each time.

Wait. Wait, no. No, no-

That indulgent delight began to simmer away to further discomfort and, at its fringes, fear. That was too far: she had worked her toys into her bladder before, but had never pushed then far enough in that they went beyond, up to the smaller, tighter shafts that directly fed the volume from further within her body. But now the tapered point of the boar’s shaft poked and prodded up at the extremities there, squishing the malleable organ around him, diving in and – jamming that pain back up to the side of her lower back again.

Intense, bright, sudden, as though she had just hit that against a sharp corner, or like someone had given her a karate-chop right above the waist. She groaned out into the barn, voice loud enough to briefly quiet the noises of the other animals around. Fingers dug into the mud, peeled away splinters of the moist wood underneath, and she yelped and gasped again and again with each resurgence of that pain, the boar pushing all the way up beyond her bladder, further and further. His huge, heavy balls dragged against the plump lips of her spade, wet meat suction-cupping back against him, pulling him forward even as she tried to squirm away.

This is bad, she thought, mind coming close to clear for the first time tonight. What if I can’t piss at all? He’s gonna – plug me up, and I’m gonna be so fucked up I can’t do anything, I won’t be able to hold it in but I also won’t be able to push anything out, and… and, God, his dick his huge, and I think I can smell him now, and… there’s…

The wolfess’s ears flicked towards the other corner of the barn again. Probably just another of the pigs, she thought, before the sound solidified into slow, measured footsteps – but Ember was beyond caring at this point. Slowly, dizzily, she turned her head again, winced and gasped at how this caused the pain to reflect back in towards her spine, and blinked through the bleary darkness illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the window and that one lantern hanging above the open doorway, just like in the other barn.

Sure enough the silhouette of someone took shape within the shadows. Broad shoulders, the bare head and chest, the thick arms, thicker waist and legs… the shape of a pair of tusks jutting up and out around the snout, the same folded ears, the same shag-rug consistency of the revealed pelt. Ember’s body bounced with the boar’s eager thrusts now, her vision clouding with each starburst of fiery pain.

The floorboards beside her shoulder creaked as the farmer crouched down, nodding slowly to himself. He tilted his head, looked her in the eye, flared his broad nostrils in a slow sigh, then looked back towards her bare backside. Hiked underneath this feral beast, tail curled against her body, rump spread, heat-swollen sex sucking up around his hard length buried to the hilt inside of her… huge balls straining, twitching, ready to unload far too deep inside of her and then – in his species’ trademark fashion – deposit the glue-like plug there, to ensure that the seed would take.

Too bad… for me, she managed to think. Once again the wolfess flicked her tongue out across her lips. Once again she tasted mud.

It felt as though there was a hand squeezing her rump now, sending a little tingle of arousal flaring through her numbed system. Fingers searched, slid underneath her tail, poked wrongly at her tailhole – she clenched, shivered, pushed – then down further; the farmer caressed the root of her spade, accidentally jiggled the plump, wet flesh, spread her open, then tsked between his tusks and shook his head again. When he drew his hand back Ember saw that it dripped with thick, milky ropes.

“So,” he drawled, then pursed his lips. The farmer brought that hand to his snout, sniffed at it, nodded, then wiped it off in a few glistening, sticky streaks along his own pelt. “First off, I wanna say, I ain’t judgin’ ya for your interests here. Show me a rancher who ain’t fraternized with the livestock, and I’ll show you an honest lawman.” Then he wiped it off on his jeans, baggy and stained already. “I just wish you’d’ve asked first, y’know. Seen y’around in the mornings. Wondered if you’d ever come say hi.”

Ember gritted her teeth. “I – need-”

But the farmer held his other hand up. “No, no. Lemme finish. Figure I should at least explain myself, yeah? Doreen back there’s pregnant.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Extremely so. Named her after the clarinet queen of N’Orleans ‘cause she’s big, dark, and beautiful, see? But I thought it’d be… prudent to spend my time ‘round here just in case she decides to pick an inopportune time a’ night. Yeah?”

Another thrust, another spear of pain, another hot, searing spike ricocheting along her back. “Sir, I…”

“Hold on, now. Fell asleep back there thinkin’ I’d have only one pregnant sow in the mornin’. Never thought to hope I’d wake up to two.” Then he leaned back and chuckled. “Or at least, pregnant t’be. Y’ain’t the first, y’know, miss. Though usually y’all go for the horses… should know, though, when Boris here finishes – and I know him well, he’s gettin’ close – he’ll be fillin’ y’up with… well, with glue, basically. Y’know how hot glue burns for a second, then it gets all… gooey and kinda half-solid? His last… oh, four, five deposits into your bank there will be like that, and-”

“He’s in my bladder,” Ember managed to hiss, the effort itself squeezing back along nerves that felt as though they were aflame. Even when Boris the boar didn’t push in, she still felt the echoing, reverberating ache. “Deeper. He’s gonna-”

The farmer blinked. He leaned to the side, reached for her rump, paused –  “May I?” and Ember nodded vigorously – then squished her plush fur and flesh aside to get another look. Despite the discomfort, pain, and growing strain from Boris’s immense weight, the touch still sent a sweet shiver through her loins.

“Ah.” And on top of her the feral shuddered, swallowed a squeal, and pushed forward fast and hard. Ember yelped out, the world spinning around her… and after a moment yet again felt her bladder filling up from the wrong side, the pressure and urgency swelling, tingling in at her, flaring with pain alongside each spurt as he dumped beyond her bladder. “Aye,” the farmer went on, “that… complicates it a bit, don’t it?”

There he paused again, one hand rubbing at the scruff of his chin. Ember squirmed with discomfort, each spurt spearing up into her organs, the initial sensation of the feral’s shaft stretching her wide tingling with the same sweet pleasure only to switch and zap right back into pain.

The farmer’s pause stretched on and on…

Then Ember jumped with a sudden unexpected touch, the contact for once forcing her attention away from the feral pumping inside of her. Broad, calloused, yet surprisingly gentle fingers slid down around her bare stomach; the farmer muttered an apology when he brushed across one of her hanging breasts, angled himself further down, and then rubbed in at her lower abdomen, already swelling down from both the volume forced up into her and the pull of gravity trying to tug all of that downwards. The wolfess looked over her shoulder to see him crouching here beside her, massaging her there while he reached behind Boris with the other.

The boar’s nostrils flared and his lips fluttered in a swift exhalation of breath. Something within the wolfess stirred, and for a moment the sharp-edged pain tingled away into the background and left her instead with the faint, distant sensation of growing urgency, like sitting at her work desk all day without realizing she was going through an entire two-liter of soda. The same familiar warm tingle down beneath her belly, the sensation of growing pressure squeezing out from inside, the tickle of urgency – though now locked behind the boar’s length buried far too deep inside of her. Try as she might to push and squeeze out around him, all she succeeded in doing was reflect that pain back up towards her lower back once more, reminding her of her current predicament.

The farmer’s massage did help a little bit. One hand there at her bladder, thankfully the outside of it along the fur of her belly, while the other assumedly made the same movements at Boris’s huge, hefty sack, coaxing him into more efficiently emptying his balls inside of her. Where normally the awareness of this urgency gradually grew throughout the course of an afternoon, this time she felt it jerking upwards with each spurt, the muscle walls of her bladder stretching out around the strain added again and again, nerves constantly firing, sphincters stretched apart, valves held forcibly open.

Is that-? The wolfess shifted again, tried to reach down underneath herself, and very quickly decided against this course of action for the way it sent sharp spikes across her spine. Moving on from a two-liter during work to a full fuckin’ Thanksgiving dinner. I feel like I’m gonna burst… It was worse than anything she had ever felt before, this sharp, intense urgency, so strong that she could almost feel it tingling throughout her limbs. It made her want to wriggle and squirm and dance, but each time she moved it also just jabbed right back into her again, a greater, less pleasant reminder of how much the boar had filled her. I wonder how much longer until my bladder just pops like a damn water balloon, and-

“Oh. Oh. Feel that?” The hand along her lower belly paused, prodded up, and then gently pinched around a spot that felt not unlike a wriggling fingertip. “Us pigs, we can move our dicktips ‘round like that. He’s looking… for your… ah. There we go.” Something inside of Ember zapped again. She grunted. “Finishin’ up. Should be droppin’ the plug right around now, and then he-”

But Ember didn’t hear the rest. Where originally she had felt those short, sharp spikes of pain alongside each thrust or spurt, now suddenly blossomed into a full, bright flame of sensation blooming out from that side of her lower back as the huge feral shifted, the tapered tip of his length poking, prodding, finding the entrance. Every muscle in her abdomen reflexively tensed; it felt like pushing too far in sizing up with a sounding rod, the unfortunately familiar sting and burn that would linger for hours afterward with each touch, each twitch, each movement, only far deeper inside of her body. Vaguely she became aware of a grating noise from somewhere around her, then realized also at a distance that this was coming from herself, her mouth hanging slack, her throat tight.

There was the swish and slosh of liquid at first, burning hot, feeling as though it sizzled out along her tubes from the inside. Ember managed to swallow, groaned out again, and dug her claws through the smeared mud underneath her. There had been one time the previous year where after perhaps a bottle too much of wine and a few too many fingers slopped inside her similarly heat-swollen spade, she had decided to push herself farther than she had before with a silicone tube, an enema bag, and a saline solution, and had ended up not only filling her bladder so far that it began to squirt out around the sides of the tube, but had also jetted a bit further up inside of herself than she had expected-

-and this felt like that, like pushing the tube deeper and deeper inside herself even though she knew it was already inside her bladder, expecting it to curl around and fill the organ like some kind of slipper snake, when instead it jammed up against the interior extremity, slid around, and poked its way up deeper. The scrape of the tube’s edge dragging along those hypersensitive nerve endings had sent sharp enough of a shock through her drunken system to suddenly spark her awake, and now feeling the boar deposit the glue-like plug along those same boundaries, these final spurts much thicker, grittier, stickier than before, pushing out at the rim, holding it open… Ember swallowed yet again, felt the pressure in her throat, let it stream back out as a tense, shaky groan.

“Too much,” she managed, her voice sounding strange to her. “He’s in too far. He’s – God, I can’t – get him – please, get him off me, I promise, I won’t-”

“Tch.” The farmer shifted, brought both his hands to her swollen belly, and poked and prodded there. Each time he did so sent a mixture of warm comfort spiked through with intense, searing pain through her. “I’m strong, but y’really think I’d be able to roll half a ton of breeding boar offa’ ya? ‘Specially with him fillin’ ya like a water balloon?”

“Please! Please, I can’t take it, I’m-”

“Hey now, hey now. Catch your breath. You with me?” His hands trailed up towards her hips; the farmer adjusted so that he could reach around the massive boar hilted inside of her, the beast’s heavy, satisfied breaths tickling at her ear. “Need ya to breathe in. It’ll hurt like a bitch – sometimes I wake up havin’ to piss so bad that I can feel it back in my fuckin’ kidneys – but you gotta. Ready? One… two… three… four… there. Now let it out. And do it again. Better?”

Not really, she thought, but still she nodded. At least the force of her heat still helped to bury most feeling other than arousal. Even despite the strain, the worry, the pain, and everything else, she could still tell she was so wet that this farm could probably shove his entire hand inside of her – into the proper entrance – with no extra preparation needed. In case the idea hits him.

“Good girl,” he went on, again shifting his posture. Ember could just barely smell him over the stronger, richer musk of Boris on top of her. “That’s a good girl. I know this one here. He’ll take some, ah… four, five minutes to shoot his goo, plug you right up, and then… ah…”

Like the beat of her heart, the thrumming pain of the process echoed through her guts and her lower back, again and again. “What? What’ll happen? Tell me what it is, I swear I’ll – do anything, and-”

The farmer nodded slowly. His hands slid away from her belly. “Well…” And he scooted himself back to position himself behind the boar. Boris lifted and turned his head, snorting in recognition, and then shuddered again. Ember jumped as the farmer’s fingers prodded against her inner thighs, and she realized he was again rubbing and massaging the feral’s balls. Fucking cannonballs, she thought, dazed; bowling balls. Those big ones that nobody uses. Except – his get used all the time, don’t they? And I’m contributing to that… “Being similarly equipped myself, there’s an easy solution to this that I could-”

“Whatever it is, do it, this – fucking sucks, and yeah, I’m in heat, but-”

“Ah.” He held up a slick, slightly slimy hand, thick strands of discolored juice hanging between his fingers. “You’ll wanna hear it first, miss. Since he’s still up in there doin’ God’s work-” Here he squeezed at her belly again, and once the pressure and pain passed Ember wondered if it would be possible for the juices to squirt even further back up into her. Would it fill my intestines? Or my stomach first, or something? Would I actually be able to taste it? Is that possible…? “-and seems like he’ll be finishing before long, ah…”

Then something else nudged against her head from the other side. Confused, the wolfess blinked, looked over – and brushed her lips across a mud-soaked length of wood, splinters jutting out from here and there all over. The farmer held it in his other hand, and jiggled it in front of her.

“If I… go spelunking right after he dismounts, get my own tool up in there, I should be able to knock his plug loose and you can piss it out. You’ll prob’ly wanna bite down on that, though, miss.”

Yet again disbelief surged through her along a wave of that bright pain. All she had wanted to do tonight was sneak into this farm, get mounted and railed by some livestock boar, then have him plug her up so that she would still be carrying his load inside her by the time she would wake up the following morning. Then the plug would pop loose, and he would leak out of her and soak her bed with his wild, animalistic scent, and she would scoop all of that back up inside herself and smear it around until her fur stuck together and her plump spade dripped with his touch and scent more than her own.

And most of these she had succeeded, except for the small fact that all of it had gone spectacularly wrong. She swallowed, licked her lips, then leaned forward and sank her teeth into the wood: gritty particles of the mud spread out between her lips and dribbled across her tongue, tasting of soil and old grass and the distant fetid stink of something stagnant, while the wood itself squished into loose fibers between her fangs.

“Mhmm,” she managed around it, nostrils flaring for breath. Boris began to shift… “Mhmm, mmh, mmf-”

…and then he slurped free more than he slid, the wolfess’s stretched innermost walls squeezing around him, her bladder flaring and flexing with the sudden rush and adjustment in pressure, the interior rim tingling, tightening, and then – finally – spritzing out between her legs as he dismounted. Still, though, try as she might to clench down and push, to empty out all of the excess that he had pumped into her, she found that she couldn’t: the muscles squeezed tighter, coming frustratingly close, and then trembled in their imminence, but never pushed over the edge.

Like trying to take a plug that was too large for her, only from the inside instead. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t manage it, and after a moment she let the tension sputter out of her body and realized that she had already bitten the plank so hard that it had begun to push up against the roof of her mouth, her teeth sunken into the material.

“Okay, now,” the farmer said from behind her. Dazed again, the wolfess turned her head to see that he had already guided Boris back into the pen and thrown the lock. “Lemme take a look at what we’ve got goin’ on here…”

…and I’m just another animal, she thought, eyes unfocused. Slow, careful fingers prodded at the protruding rim of her spade; a forefinger and thumb squeezed at the base, and then the blunted tip; he spread her open, touched at her hypersensitive inner walls, ran a fingerpad across the sex-slickened meat there, angled in towards where the boar had inserted himself… and then there was that sensation again, the slight nudge and bump and searing tingle. She flexed, reflexively tried to clench around the finger poking its way up into her urethra, and found that she couldn’t. Just more livestock. He’s not helping me; he’s handling me. I bet this – isn’t the first time he’s had to…

“Ain’t the first time I’ve had to do somethin’ like this,” the farmer muttered. Ember’s ears flicked. “But – Jesus H. Christ, miss. That’s what the inside of a wolf’s pisser feels like?”

“Whaff rr ya-” But then she jerked and twitched again, the entirety of the farmer’s finger buried inside of her, pushing gently up against slick muscular walls, stretching her in ways that felt at once strange, invigorating, wrong, and delightful all at the same time. “Ah, God, careful-”

“I can see this being a regular occurrence if all’a y’all’re like this. Hot dog down a hallway, am I right? Jesus.” A second finger began poking at the entrance there, and to Ember’s mixed shock and sharp, fluttering arousal, it managed to slip in to the first knuckle even despite her focused clenching. “He got way in you, didn’t he? Good job, Boris.”

“Ya, ‘e-” Ember turned her head too far, winced under another spike of pain, and then groaned out around the wood.

“Oh. I see. He got all the way in…”

“Ngah, I wa-” Finally she spat the board back out. Bits of mushy wood and mud scraped across her gums and tongue. “No, I was kidding about that. I’m still here on the ground with my ass and pussy bared to some fucking stranger-” Another reflexive clench shivered through her body, followed by the phantom sensation of the farmer wiggling around inside her bladder. That was a sensation that she knew she would never get used to. “-who’s got two fingers up my fucking peehole since I thought it’d make for a fun night out, and I-”

Whatever she had intended to say next instead warped into a sharp, short shriek, the kind that came out when she knocked her toe into the corner of a desk or slammed her ear in the door of a cupboard. This was much more, though, just like those initial sharp, spiky thrusts deep inside of her, like little fireworks explosions going off in her guts.

Yet again the world spun around her. Her jaw tingled from clamping down against itself so hard; the back of her head throbbed with a belligerent ache; her entire lower body, from around the second row of breasts downward, simmered with a slow, searing flame.

“Told you ya’d wanna bite down on the board,” he went on, uninterrupted. With a grunt and huff the farmer lifted himself up, leaned over her again, and then wrapped his large hands around her midsection, rubbing and massaging again. Ember felt an embarrassed blush warm her cheeks at the way that the motion caused some of her extra volume to begin spilling back out of her, finally freed from the lock deep within. “Went n’ managed to knock his plug loose, but it’s still in there.”

She could certainly feel it. Where the pain was no longer throbbing or growing, still she was kept aware of it, constantly there, tingling out at her if she breathed too deeply or turned too far. Warmth trickled freely from her stretched, gaping urethra, flowing despite her attempts to stop it, despite the farmer’s one and a half fingers still jammed up into the tubing. When he finally pulled free she gasped, twitched, and sprayed again, indulging in the needed release of that pressure.

“So,” he continued, rubbing his fingers down her belly, “I can fix that, too. Like I said, bein’ similarly equipped, I can get into all the same nooks n’ crannies that he did. I’ll take his place – with your permission, o’course – n’ slide right on in, n’… wash the evidence away.”

“Do it,” she said, still blinking through tears. “I don’t care. Do it.”

“Yes ma’am. Ain’t gotta tell me twice. Lemme just…” The few seconds spent in him undoing his belt and opening his pants fly stretched on for far too long, between the lingering pain of the plug and the still-present anticipation of getting her spade filled for a second time. Despite everything that had happened tonight, Ember still found herself wagging her tail and wiggling her hips back at him, enjoying the sensation of plump, wet meat swinging between her legs, of the hypersensitive tingle of overstimulated flesh and skin, of the constant, slimy drip of the boar’s load oozing out of her beyond her control.

Then all of that sizzled and brightened all over again. Fingers squished up amid the sloppy folds of her sex, spread her open, held her back; the tapered tip rubbed up first against the proper hole – she shuddered, reflexively pushed back, wondered if it would be so bad if he were to dump one load where it belonged and then take care of the feral’s mess – then shifted again towards the wrongly stretched one. Those fingers pressed in and held there; the farmer murmured something under his breath; and then Ember’s shoulders pinched together, her back arched, her neck stretched out against that odd sensation yet again, the feeling of fullness pressing towards her bladder from the wrong side, nudging in at the tight rim there, and quite easily poking its way in.

Yet again like a water balloon with the end untied, she felt the little spritz and spray before the farmer’s shaft sank up into her bladder, stretching the first squeezing rim around it. Ember expected it this time, but still the actual event sent a cold shiver through her body… while the awareness of him being right there, inside her bladder, kept her arousal peaking.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…”

The board hovered in front of her muzzle. “Sure y’don’t want this again?”

Ember looked at it, sighed, and then parted her lips to clamp down around it again. Humiliating yet arousing, just like everything else. I can’t fucking believe it, she thought; now I’ve got this stranger shoved up inside of me, in my goddamn bladder, and he – but a sudden flick and tingle inside of her made her yelp around the soft wood. “Mmh-”

“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Not like I can see where I’m goin’. Boris did a li’l of this, but – actually, our tips are… a li’l, what’s the word…”

There was that feeling again, like his finger scraping around the far wall of her bladder. Ember winced. “Mmf – ah – y-”

“Nah. That’s all dick, miss. Prehensile! That’s it. So if I can just… find…”

For a half-second the world blinked to black. Then Ember was sucking in a long, sharp breath through her nostrils, blinking through the pain.

“Oof,” the farmer muttered. “Definitely felt that. Yeah. That’s the spot. Get ready; this is gonna hurt. You got it?”

“Mmh – mm-”

“Mhmm?”

“…Mhmm-”

“Good. I’ll need… a minute…”

His hands settled in on her waist, gripping firmly, confidently. The touch was at once deeply arousing as it was terrifying, having some idea of what was to come, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to squirm away. Ember felt her breathing start to pick up and worked to slow it back down, drawing in through her nose, letting it fizzle out between her lips resting along the wood. The farmer shifted again, wiggled his shaft within her spade while his tip remained rooted past the far wall, drew in a breath, let it out, drew in another, then held there… and at first there was nothing.

But then Ember felt her insides stir like a pot of water on the stove just beginning to boil. The heat began from deep inside, small and gentle at first, then quickly swelling out into a bright, searing pain that stretched tiny fingers up across all of her nerves. Right as that began, so too did the farmer relax, and through the sensation Ember distantly realized what he meant by saying wash it out. His piss poured inside of her, flooding those deep inner tubes and swelling back around the glue-like semisolid consistency of the feral’s plug, apparently wedged off to the side around his own tip; the pressure there swelled, grew, ballooned until the wolfess feared she would vomit from the pain, and then with his hands still gripping her waist the farmer jerked back barely an inch.

That pressure suddenly released, then swelled all over again. Another damn two-liter, she thought, heat-drunk and pain-dazed; from a distance she was aware of her bladder ballooning, pushing out against her already swollen, tender belly from inside as the farmer, this stranger, emptied his into hers. He sighed with relief as he did so, the wet heat stirring deep within her body, washing the remnants of the feral’s plug free so that she only occasionally felt its presence inside her, when it bumped up against the stretched muscles of the organ itself.

“There we… go…” he half-moaned, still slowly pulling out as he did so. Ember’s grip on the board loosened; she realized she was drooling, and pushed back against him in an attempt to keep him inside – and then he slipped free while still draining out into and across her. For a moment the paired flows sprayed together, jetting straight out of her freshly stretched innards, his mark mixed with hers, further mixed with the feral’s load; the warmth that poured out of her was slightly gelatinous, a little bit chunky, somewhat slimy, and she felt the thicker globs of it push their way free and sputter out, no doubt decorating the front of the farmer’s pants.

It all splattered and smacked as it coursed out across the floor of the barn underneath her. Ember whimpered with relief, at first incapable of believing how good it felt to empty out like this: her legs trembled, her tail flicked, her vision swam, and for a moment she thought she might faint from the sheer, sweet pleasure pulsing through here, just barely fringed with the same tingling pain from before. She clenched, squeezed, pushed to extrude everything out of herself, not even caring that she was doing so on the floor of someone’s barn in the middle of the night, not even caring that she reeked of lupine heat and feral boar seed.

Pissing someone else’s piss… she thought, reaching down between her legs to spread her spade and rub her fingers across herself. Two fingertips quite easily slid up into the source of the stream, then flicked back out again. Why haven’t I thought of that before? Those two huge hands wrapped around her midsection again, fingers spreading around tender swollen nipples, and squeezed to help with the rest.

Most of it came as what she recognized as piss, but those last few squirts and spurts were instead thicker and jellylike, likely the remnant of Boris’s gel congealing among his own load and the farmer’s additions. Panting through flared nostrils, Ember pushed a few more times, swallowed, tasted mud, spat the board out, then moved to stand up – and instead rolled over onto her side, sprawling out across the ground. She looked up at the farmer behind her, his half-hard shaft still hanging out of his pants, dripping from the tapered tip.

“Hey,” she breathed, and spat a few more splinters out of her mouth. “You’re kinda hot, y’know. Thanks for that. I don’t think… anyone else would’ve…”

“Mhmm.” He shook himself off a bit. “And you’re in heat, and probably a li’l delirious. You’re gonna be feeling that for… ah, a week or so. But, miss, I gotta say,” and he grunted as he bent down to scoop his arms underneath her, “you’ve got the fuckin’ loosest pisser I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Thanks.” One of Ember’s arms swung down into the air. With effort she tugged it back up, plopped it between her legs, and sank three fingers into the plush meat of her piss- and cum-soaked spade again. “I’ve been working hard at it.”

“So’s Boris.”

“Hah. Yeah. Round two, maybe? Ah – don’t – jostle me, I’m-”

“I know, I know. You’re in no shape to go anywhere tonight.” He shouldered the barn door open. “Sure, ain’t a good look for me to be draggin’ some naked gal back to my house at this time a’ night, but I mean… neither’s it a good look for you to be crawlin’ ‘round in the mud underneath a pig’s huge goddamn undercarriage. So tell ya what.”

Ember looked up at him. Still she felt his, and Boris’s, various fluids dripping out of her stretched spade…

“You’ll spend the night on the couch. I’ll go n’ get your clothes, get ‘em nice n’ washed, and then in the morning if you’re feeling up to it, you’re free to go. Sound good?”

“Can I – ah-” She gripped onto the firm, taut muscle of his arm. “Could I get some towels? I’ve got some, uh… unfinished business, and…”

Dark eyes flashed down at her. The farmer thought about this for a moment. “I’d offer to help with that,” he rumbled, “but I figure I should at least take you to dinner tomorrow and get to know your name first. You’re already gonna have something to remember me, and Boris, by.”

“I’m a wolf. You can’t get me pregnant.”

He hoisted a leg over the short fence at the end of the pasture, then swung the other over as well. “No, but you’ll be sore for some two weeks, and prob’ly won’t be able to even think of pig dick without a bit of regret.”

Ember smirked. “Oh, we’ll see about that…”

~ ~ ~

The wolfess couldn’t help but moan out between gritted teeth and parted lips, chin resting on one arm while the other flopped somewhere above and behind her head. Her entire body lurched forward and back, forward and back with the rhythmic motions, each one bringing with it the now familiar sensation of the boar’s shaft pumping up inside of her, pressing out against her tubing from the inside, and wedging itself past the tightly muscled rim of her bladder, teasing at the entrance there so that each time the farmer pulled out he brought with himself a little spritz of hot, fresh piss. His hands around her waist, fingers rubbing, pinching at her nipples, pushing in at her already deliberately overfull bladder; his breath on her neck; his balls swinging against her from underneath, not quite as sizeable as those belonging to his livestock, but still impressive, and then – the way his fingers tightened around her, how he thrust forward, buried himself inside of her, wriggled that prehensile tip around to find the perfect spot, then drew back, thrust again, and shuddered with the force of his orgasm once it hit him.

And within two spurts Ember always felt it too, the thick, sludgy consistency of his load squirting out inside of her, blossoming within the hot liquid of her mark stored inside. The extra pressure squeezed out against her belly from inside and made her squirm, returning her to that same point where she felt she might burst if she moved too much. She loved the sensation of being able to feel his throbs within her spade and pulsing out at her urethra, accompanied by the gradual increase in tension within her lower belly; then the aftermath was always fantastic, too, sitting on the toilet or, as she preferred, squatting out back with both paws spreading the plump meat of her sex, so that she could watch the congealed globs sputter out of her, and feel them slop free alongside the wisps of his plug loosely spurted inside.

Panting, still buried deep, the farmer leaned over her and nipped at her ear in the way he had discovered she enjoyed over these past few months. Ember turned her head to nuzzle back against him, sighed in turn, then paused… and opened her eyes to glare at him. Above her, the boar’s eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth had fallen open, and now his shoulders shook in the sweet, gentle relief that had also become so familiar to her.

The hot pressure within her lower belly continued to grow, swelling from inside like a water balloon left on the faucet. The sensation of urgency grew to immediacy, to that point where she knew where if there hadn’t been something as wide around as three of her fingers forced through the only valid escape route, she would freely leak and dribble from the burst dam whether she wanted to or not.

Squirming more as that pressure continued to grow, sending the little spikes of sensation up towards her lower back, she managed to roll her head to the side to look at him more fully.

“Do you have to piss inside every time you fuck my bladder?”

“That ain’t a complaint,” he purred in return, leaning in to touch his broad snout to her more angular muzzle. “An’ you know it. I knew you’d be comin’ over today, and I knew you’d’a drunk a shitload a’ water again, so I made sure to do the same. It’s only fair. ‘Sides-” He tugged back a little bit, releasing the pressure somewhat. “You’re nice n’ plugged up, and I’m still sopping wet. So you can’t say you don’t like it.”

Ember tried to maintain her glare, but couldn’t and instead shuddered beneath another wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort. “I wish you weren’t right…”

“No you don’t. I’m a farmer.” His broad fingers moved up, slid beneath her chin, turned her head to face him again. “I know my livestock…”

“Ooh. Stop that. You’ll make me cum again.”

“Well, we’ll have to bring you back down to the barn for that, and…” He grunted, twitched inside of her, then twitched again. “Okay. Now I’m done.”

Ember squirmed. “Not if I have anything to say about it. You said something about the barn?...”", "pools_count": 3, "title": "Plugged Leaks [Commission]", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "2" }