Bluey’s research started out a little duller than she’d expected, but she couldn’t complain; she was just excited to actually be out on the field, studying her evolutionary ancestors in their natural habitat at long last. She’d been a bit of a wolf nerd ever since middle school, and after spending her whole life on a continent with no native wolves to speak of, finally being able to see the majestic creatures in person was nothing short of exhilarating. Returning home after a long stretch of fieldwork and flopping down on her bed was the most satisfying feeling in the world, Bluey was sure of it.
Muffled yelling suddenly caused her ears to twitch irritably. Well, she thought to herself with a roll of her eyes, maybe a peaceful house would be a bit more satisfying, actually…
Sox only seemed to be getting moodier and moodier as winter approached. They were almost constantly hidden away in the basement, and it seemed like the only time they weren’t was spent getting into arguments with their parents or Muffin or even occasionally Bluey herself. She did her best to be respectful and give them the space they clearly needed, but it was hard to not be curious about what might be going on with them. Despite everything else, Sox being nonbinary was cool as hell. Bluey had started her own transition journey at such a young age that she sometimes forgot that there was anything abnormal about her at all, which perhaps made the times she was reminded of it all the more jarring and painful. Her friends and family were accepting, but none of them really seemed to understand what it was like. Learning that Sox was nonbinary felt like an opportunity to connect with someone who got it, but the teen was so angry at everyone that Bluey was starting to think she’d never get a chance to truly talk with them.
In a way, it concerned her. She wanted to ask someone if there was something wrong with Sox, but that felt rude, and Bluey wasn’t sure if they’d have any real answers to give anyway. So, instead, Bluey found herself quietly watching Sox from afar. Just innocent things, like sneaking glances at the dinner table, or staring at Sox from the window as they waited for the bus to school, or sit at the top of the basement steps and play around on her phone as she listened to the punk music Sox would blast out of her laptop speakers from below.
It was all very professional, to be sure; it was actually quite a lot like her fieldwork with wolves. Nothing harmful, just ethical observation from a distance. It was so similar, in fact, that one night she found herself pulling out a spare research notebook and jotting down the lyrics to a song Sox kept playing so she could look it up later when her phone wasn’t dead.
Do you share the same sense of defeat?
Have you realized all the things you’ll never be?
I’ve got no judgement for you, come on and ache with me…
As Bluey finished scribbling down the last few words, the final guitar riff fading out, there was a lengthy stretch of silence. Sox seemed to have stopped the playlist entirely, and it sounded like they were shuffling around and getting ready for bed. Bluey absentmindedly wondered what time it was; she usually snuck out before Sox fell asleep. As she reached down to grab her phone and get ready to leave, a soft gasp from Sox made her ears instinctively perk up and tilt curiously in the direction of the noise, honing in on Sox’s labored breathing and quickly causing Bluey to realize that Sox was—
Oh, biscuits.
Bluey knew that sound.
Bluey knew that sound. Not just the sound of someone masturbating, no; Bluey also knew by heart the distinctive yips and growls of two wild wolves going at it.
It was hard to piece together at first: maybe Sox had a nature documentary on under their music and forgot to pause it before they started… doing that. Bluey felt her face heating up red beneath her fur, waiting desperately to hear a narrator start giving a purely educational explanation on the mating habits of wolves, but the narration never came.
Sox, though…
Their breathing sped up, and if Bluey listened carefully—and oh, may Stripe and Trixie and Muffin and most importantly Sox forgive her, she listened so carefully—she could hear the faint sound of what she knew were Sox’s slick fingers slipping in and out of their—
Bluey buried her face in her hands, absolutely mortified that she had just let that image run through her mind. She peered down through her fingers to look between her legs, feeling panicked tears building in her eyes as she confirmed her fears: she was getting hard.
It’s natural, it’s natural, it’s natural… She repeated the thought in her mind over and over, a mantra she used to calm herself back in her early teenage years when getting erections would give her horrible dysphoria. It doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s natural…
“Ah, fuck!” Sox gasped, followed by a low, shuddering moan. “Fuuuck…”
Did they just…?
Bluey screwed her eyes shut tightly, feeling her stomach twist with arousal as her cock slid out a little further.
It’s natural, Bluey. Getting hard after hearing a cute girl orgasm is perfectly natural. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Bluey took a long, deep breath and considered her options carefully. She could walk out the door and risk facing the rest of her family with an erection as she emerged from her underage cousin’s room. Or…
It’s natural. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Keeping her eyes closed, Bluey sat up and leaned back against the basement door, one hand reaching down to wrap around her sheath and gently massage behind the slowly bulging knot within it.
Just take care of it quick and you won’t have to think about it anymore.
She let out a tiny whimper before quickly using her free hand to cover her mouth, the other sliding up her shaft until she reached the tip. She swiped at it with her thumb to gather her leaking precum and lube up the rest of her cock; being a very modestly size dog, the generous amount that had already leaked from her tip was more than enough to provide proper friction for her to start building a rhythm.
Bluey tried to think about anyone other than Sox as she jerked herself off. She really, really did, but all it was doing was postponing her orgasm and thus postponing her getting the fuck out of there and back to the safety of her room.
It doesn’t have to mean anything, she told herself one more time before she allowed herself to melt into indulgence, fantasies of Sox touching themself and the very real memories of their gasps and moans as they came playing through Bluey’s mind completely unbidden. She inhaled deeply to get the last lingering scent of Sox’s arousal in her nostrils. It felt so intoxicating, so overwhelming, and Bluey couldn’t help but let out a nearly soundless yip as her hips bucked into the motion of her hand, balls tensing and body shivering as she shot a small spurt of cum onto the step below her, the rest of it dribbling out down her shaft and onto her hand as she gradually slowed her pace.
Bluey let out a satisfied sigh and sat there for a moment, allowing herself to catch her breath and faintly trying to remember the last time she’d cum that hard. The sound of Sox’s light snoring brought Bluey out of her daze, her eyes widening a little as she began to comprehend what she just did.
No one has to know, she reasoned to herself. It doesn’t count if no one knows. And even if someone did know…
It’s natural.
It doesn’t have to mean anything.