	She moaned as she panted, each exhale pushed through her vocal cords, short and soft, 'Ah, ah, ah,' because she was trying to be quiet.  It was a mix between a groan of ecstasy and a whimper, and when she closed her mouth to bite her lip, her 'ah, ah, ah's became 'mmh, mmh, mmh's.  She was straddling his lap, slender body silhouetted by the cold glow of the TV, hair in a tangle and tears in the corners of her eyes.  This was his favorite thing, making her feel pleasure through the pain, and what made it even better was that he knew her mother was watching, hidden, pawing off to the sight of her husband fucking her daughter.

–  Several weeks ago...

	“Farru hun iff yo ayyoun?”
	Derrick sighed as he pulled the buds out of his ears, his day – already bad – suddenly becoming ten times worse.  “What,” he asked, turning to the entrance of his cubical, where the bane of his workday stood nibbling on the string of a torn up hoodie.
	Matt scowled, “I faid, are you done wiff the ARPY accounts?”
	Matt had a slight speech impediment.  That wasn't a problem.  Sometimes you had to ask him to repeat things, but otherwise it wasn't so bad.  What was bad was that Matt insisted on talking to Derrick while Derrick is wearing headphones, facing the other direction, and not paying attention.  Then Matt would get upset when he was inevitably asked to repeat himself.  Matt was an asshole for that, but not just for that.
	“No.  I won't be done until next Tuesday.”  Derrick turned back around, hoping that Matt would walk into traffic.  He was actually almost done with the accounts, he just didn't want to see Matt for another week.
	“You'ff been working on fem all day,” Matt said, voice slightly slurred both by nature and the grimy string dangling from his mouth.
	“Are you timing me?”  There was a silence, and Derrick already knew that the answer was yes.
	“I'm juft trying to make fure the work getf done,” Matt countered, playing the false high road.
	“Has anything ever not gotten done, Matt?”
	Matt stood there and chewed on his string, then walked away.  Derrick's thoughts wandered to the trunk of his car, where he kept a tire-iron.  Matt was not his supervisor.  Matt wasn't anyone's supervisor.  For some reason that didn't stop the rat bastard from bothering everyone like he was, constantly asking on people's progress, making sideways comments about how long their lunches or breaks were, timing how long it took for people to finish a job.  Only a few people ever actually complained about him because most of the time everyone was afraid of how slow he would reveal them to be.  Derrick has lobbied a number of complaints, and once had the glorious pleasure of seeing Parker – the boss – tell Matt to stop being such a prick (in so many words), but that only tempered Matt's asshole fires for a short while, and when Parker was transferred to another branch, the butt flames sprung forth once more.  It almost worried Derrick how often he thought of the tire iron.
	Leslie poked her head over the cubical wall, her face a show of solidarity and commiseration.  Derrick smiled at her, thankful.
	His cellphone buzzed in its cradle.  Leslie ducked back down.  The screen showed that it was Debbie, a picture of her and her little daughter in their swimsuits. Their butts were pressed together so that their squirrel tails formed a lopsided heart.  The picture used to make him smile.  Now he just sighed.
	“Hey,” he said in a hushed tone, pressing the phone to his ear.
	“Hey,” she replied, equally hushed.  “We're short again this week.  I'm being voluntold to cover a night shift.”
	He let out a growl.  This was the third time in the last two weeks.  “Okay.  Does Tammy know?” 
	“Yah, I already texted her.  She's got her homework done, and I think she ate the last pot pie, so you're on your own for dinner.”
	Another growl.  He loved the pot pies.  And now they were gone.  Lost.  Forever.
	“I should be back around six in the morning.”  Her voice turned softer, alluring.  “Maybe I can make it up to you then.”
	“That would be nice,” he said, trying his best to sound interested.  He knew it was an empty promise.  She's been working since noon.  The only thing she's going to be doing when she gets home is passing out, still in her scrubs.  He wondered briefly if he could get away with fucking her while she was unconscious, but things were already rough between them, and he didn't want to add pseudo-rape to the mix.  “I'll talk to you in the morning, then.”
	“Love you.”
	“Love you.”

–

	The last three periods were Tammy's favorite.  P.E. Was a blast, ever since Mr. Evenson – who was really cute – had a mental breakdown and started making up his own sports.  He said that most sports only had one ball, and therefor only had one focus, and that today's generation was able to multi-task so well that there could be two, five, even ten focuses.  Her favorite so far was a mix between dodgeball and soccer, with a billion balls flying everywhere, and plenty of chances to zip around and dropkick a ball between the paws of one of the three goalies.  After gym there was no need to shower since she never had much of a problem with B.O., and she was good at quickly getting in and out of her normal clothes, so there was little chance of anybody commenting on how small her breasts were, compared to some of the older girls'.  The cramped space of the locker room also gave her a chance to show off how soft and fluffy her tail was, and she would 'accidentally' brush it against people's bare fur as she walked past.
	After P.E. was Homeroom, with Mrs. Ellsworth.  Mrs. Ellsworth was a new teacher, and was pretty cool.  She usually let everyone just talk or text on their phones, and sometimes she would show youtube videos on the projector, or let the students take turns plugging their phones into her speakers and share their music.  Everybody had a chance to play their music as long as it wasn't too graphic (before you could play the song, Mrs. Ellsworth would look up the lyrics online).  Today Jessica – with a cross necklace nestled in her chest tuft, clutching a colorful Young Adult's Bible to her enviable bosom  – complained that a song that Tammy's friend Monica played was about sex, and Mrs. Ellsworth told Jessica to look up the Songs of Solomon in her bible.  Jessica couldn't find it in her version, but Mrs. Ellsworth found it on the internet and put it up on the projector.  Everyone giggled and tittered at the obvious innuendos.  Before they could finish, the bell rung, and they all rushed out before Jessica could make any more fuss.
	Between fourth and fifth period, Monica walked with Tammy across the school.
	“Did he ask you,” she pried.
	Tammy apologized as she bumped in to someone, then quietly said, “No, and I don't think-” but before she could finish, someone else bumped into her.
	“You should ask him!”
	The hallway was so crowded – so full of murmuring furs – that they were talking in a volume well above what Tammy was comfortable with.  “I don't really-” but someone else had bumped in to her, and Monica wasn't really listening anyway.
	“Matt's totally cute, and you already went on that date with him.  Just ask him!”
	Luckily, they arrived at a less crowded hallway, where a bunch of their friends were hanging out.  Monica had enough sense to drop the subject in front of people they knew.  Shelby was there, playing a song on her phone, and Tammy – partly to make sure that Monica didn't break into the topic of Matt again – bust out dancing.  It was a booty-centric dance, one that she only kind of knew the moves to, but it was still fun.  They shook their booties until the bell rung for the next period.
	Tammy's heart fluttered as she walked in to her fifth period class.  She would never tell Monica – or anybody, for that matter – but she had a crush on Mr. Henderson.  He wasn't particularly attractive like Mr. Evenson, who had a strong jaw-line, toned muscles, and wore the tightest shirts he could get away with.  Mr. Henderson was a bit pudgy around the middle, and his fur was going a little thin, but there was something about his warm smile, his soft eyes that made Tammy's heart flutter.
	There was a strange emphasis on 'doing'.  Monica wanted to 'do' Mr. Evenson.  After Tammy went on a date with Matt (a date which she was reluctant to go on, and kept secret from her mom and Derrick), Monica asked, “did you do him?”  As if he were homework, or the dishes.  Tammy didn't want to 'do' Matt and more than she wanted to do any other chore.  It sounded so impersonal.  Tammy wouldn't 'do' Mr. Henderson.  She just wanted to hug him – to be held by him, have him tell her some of his funny stories.  (Though, if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that Mr. Evenson did indeed have a body worth 'doing'.)
	For Mr. Henderson's class, Tammy picked a seat in the middle rows.  She usually sat up front, or in the case of Mr. Eckle's class, the very back (Mr. Eckle was a jerk).  But Tammy didn't want to seem to be that close, because being that close would mean blushing, smiles, nervous shifting in her seat.  It would mean people would notice her reactions, and start to draw conclusions.  She couldn't tell who would be worse, if they found out: her classmates finding out, or Mr. Henderson himself.  Because if her classmates found out, there would be teasing, taunting.  But if Mr. Henderson found out, there'd be a solemn conversation and broken hearts.  No hugs, no funny stories.
	So she sat in the middle row, where she wouldn't blush, fidget, or gaze too much.  It didn't do much good though.  She would still smile warmly and giggle at his silly stories, not really paying attention to whatever he was trying to teach.  The class was over too quickly, and soon she was on the bus home.

–
	The drive home was filled with introspection and assholes.
	Derrick was an average feline with black fur and brown hair, at twenty-nine years old with a mediocre desk job.  His degree in business communications had gotten him the job, and the crushing weight of the student loans would keep him in the job until he died.  Which was fine.  His original dream was to start a comic-book/baseball card/record/used game store and laser tag arena, five niche markets that were quickly dying in the flames of the internet, if not already dead.  So maybe it was best that his silly, stupid, childish, awesome dreams were already crushed under the obligation of having make tributes to a giant bank for the rest of his life.
	He pulled into the drive-through line of a hamburger joint, three cars between him and fried meat.  Shouldn't be too long, right?
	He had already accepted his fate when he met Debbie again.  They had gone to high school together, and would usually say hello in passing, but then she disappeared their senior year, and he didn't really notice.  Years later, she recognized his name when she called him to be treated in the emergency room after stupidly tripping over his own foot and breaking his wrist.  Not wanting to seem as stupid as he felt, he told her a bald-faced lie about breaking it while rock climbing, and she returned the lie by saying that she loved rock climbing.
	The squirrel actually didn't love rock climbing.  For being a squirrel, she didn't do much climbing at all.  Her job kept her on call most of the time, and she was somewhat afraid of heights.  She was was the head nurse at the local hospital, or, would be, if they still had a head nurse position.  In order to save a few pennies, the hospital dissolved the position, fired the person in it, and heaped all the responsibilities on her without giving her a pay raise.  She was generally bright and chipper – if she hasn't been working for sixteen hours straight – and worked hard to maintain her (mostly) flat tummy and shapely behind when she could.
	He was still three cars away from meaty goodness.  It had been five minutes.  He shouldn't even be there anyway; this was totally off the diet that he hardly followed.  He sunk in the car seat, ashamed to be seen.
	After he was bandaged up, she pressed her phone number into his good paw, and told him that they would go rock climbing sometime.  They went on three dates in the span of a month, as her job kept her working overtime most of the time, and on an irregular schedule. That entire time they were both happy to have the excuse of his wrist for not going rock climbing.  It was on the third date that she admitted to having a child.  She had gotten knocked up their senior year, so she dropped out of high school and raised the child with the help of her mother, since the father disappeared.  After a while she worked for her GED and started working as a nurse at the hospital, where they've been blithely taking advantage of her at every turn.
	Debbie's child was no problem for Derrick.  Tammy turned out to be a cute little scamp, and they got along famously.  He would pick her up, spin her around, and tickle her until she peed (it only happened the once, but she would always claim it would happen again ever since).  They told cheesy jokes to each other, and he would let her read his precious comic-books, or sit on his lap while he watched baseball games, where she would entertain herself by intentionally blocking his view with her tail, and he would playfully bat it out of the way, then get frustrated and start tickling her until she screamed that she was going to pee.
	It had been ten minutes.  Finally bags were passed from the building to the car.  One, two, three, four, big order, five, six, seven, jesus, eight, nine, ten.  Ten bags.  What was this guy doing, starting the shittiest catering service ever?  He could see the guy, big glasses, balding, his fur all patchy, and now he was digging through the bags.  The shit-head is checking the order?!  Derrick's thoughts once again slipped to the tire iron.
	Eventually Tammy became a young teen, and around the time Derrick and Debbie tied the knot, Tammy started growing distant.  Which, Derrick figured, was fine, since the tickling thing would probably start to be weird, and he wasn't sure if he could lift her and still keep up the ruse of his wrist being weak, thus keeping them from ever going rock climbing, much to both of their relief.  Their whole relationship had changed with the advent of puberty and marriage.  He was once her friend that her mom would have special time with every now and again, and now he was her dad-ish type thing?  They never really had a conversation about it, and they generally avoided the whole subject by never being in the same room together.
	A paw shot out of the car window and rapped on the window of the building, and a bag was haughtily passed back.  A few minutes later, the bag was passed back once more, checked, and the ass-tarded, fuck-witted, shit-dicked son of a fucknugget drove off, hopefully to immediately die of a heart-attack.  The next two cars were thankfully quick about things, taking their bags and speeding off, hopefully to hunt down the balding asshole and beat him with a fistful of hamburgers.
	He grabbed his burger from an apologetic young husky girl, and he drove away feeling guilty not only for getting the burger, but for contributing even in the slightest to her bad day, and also feeling doubly bad for finding her attractive, even though she was probably sixteen.
	When they were dating, Debbie always stressed how important it was that he get along with her daughter.  So, when Tammy grew distant, he didn't think it was a coincidence that Debbie did, as well.  It might not have been directly related, but it was probably a factor.  Between their conflicting work schedules, housework, and the necessity of sleep, Derrick and Debbie hardly saw one another, and it had been months since they last had sex.  They hadn't really had sex regularly anyway what with work, sleep, chores, and all that.  But that was actually fine, since it kept things from getting to be rote, but they would usually make time for it, and never went more than a week without it.  But now Derrick was starting to get pent up, and it was driving him buggy.
	As he turned on to the main road, some jackhole nearly sideswiped him, merged into his lane without a turn signal, then turned into the driveway of a fastfood joint at a crawl, making Derrick miss the green light.  His paw hovered over the latch to open the trunk as he fumed at the red light.

–

	Tammy did another little booty dance, a lesser version of the one the vixen in the youtube video was doing.  Tammy didn't think she'd ever have the butt-mass to do what the lady in the video was doing, and she certainly wasn't brave enough to do it in front of a crowd of cheering people let alone at a school dance, but she could do something close to it.  She was fine with substituting cute for sexy, and besides, what the lady in the video was doing looked like work, and what Tammy was doing was just for fun.
	She did the booty dance across the office, grooving to the music, her bushy tail swinging side to side with the beat.  There was a thin mirror on the back of the door, which she backed her booty up to and rubbed butts with her reflection.  The dance didn't look too bad, and between her bushy tail and her slim little butt, all attention would be drawn away from her flat chest.  Maybe she wouldn't have to stuff her bra with tissues at the dance after all.
	The vixen's song ended, and Tammy plopped down in the computer chair, clicking through, finding another song.  She found a slower song, this time, all about finding love and holding on to it – a song that spoke directly to her twelve-year-old little heart.  She spun around in the chair, belting out the lyrics and unknowingly knocking over the fork in the empty pot-pie dish.  The fork flipped over and landed on a binder of baseball cards, and Tammy continued spinning, totally oblivious.
	She loved having the house to herself.  Between her mother's crazy work hours and Derrick's job, there was often at least three hours after school where she had the whole house as her playground.  She could be as loud and as silly as she wanted, run around in her underwear – like she was now – and generally do things she would never do if someone else was in the house.
	She stopped spinning, taking a moment to clear the dizziness out of her head, then started clicking through more videos.  She skimmed through a few that featured hard-chested men that her friend Monica had recommended as being 'ohmygod so hawt' in Homeroom.  The guys were alright, but they seemed like douchebags, full of themselves, and were probably in to other dudes anyway.
	She flipped through a few more videos before typing in the URL for one of her favorite sites.  She had to type it in completely, because she was careful and always deleted her history.  She wouldn't want Derrick to start typing in a baseball website and have 'Hentaislutbang' pop up in the autocomplete with all of her search keywords tacked on the end.
	She found the site after image-searching some fan-art from one of her favorite animes.  It brought her to a image-sharing site, and her whole world had been flipped from that point on.  Most pictures were of girls getting pounded by faceless dudes, or simply dicks out of nowhere, or a myriad of tentacles, but when the artist did think to include the guy, he was usually cute, earnest, blushing.
	The familiar shade of pink filled the screen, and she could feel a yearning in her panties already.  She typed in her usual bevy of search words – male, female, vaginal – and clicked through the results, one paw on the mouse, the other on the crotch of her panties, rubbing lightly.  There was always some new pics, or some old ones cycling through.  A few of women just getting pounded by invisible dicks, a few of a lady getting gang-raped.  She would linger on those, taking in the details – the look of pain/pleasure on the victim's face, all the stray jizz mushed into her fur, her ripped clothes, the cocks stuffed into her holes, the overflow of cum from her ass, pussy, and mouth, the cocks in the background waiting for their turn – and then quickly close them out, a vague wave of shame passing over her as she did.  There were a few pics of a girl tied up, forced to bend over, tail tied back so she can't cover herself, a dildo in her pussy, some sort of string coming out of her butt, and a cock in her mouth, a deep blush of shame and pleasure covering her face – the crotch of Tammy's panties were beginning to cling to her mound, the fabric growing damp as her folds quickly moistened. There were even some pictures of two ladies licking at each other, while one of them was being banged from behind by a blushing young man.
	The guy in this picture was cute, so she lingered on it longer than the others.  He was a typical wolf type with spiky hair, mouth open wide in what she assumed was a howl of pleasure.  His cock was half out of the lady, thick, the knot just about to be slammed in.  Tammy concentrated on this while her paw slipped down her panties, fingers petting the soft fur of her folds.  The ladies were both bunnies, with large bosoms and wide asses.  The one getting pounded had her face buried between the legs of the other, tongue out, presumably against the other lady's pussy.  The other one was similarly positioned, but on her back, tongue dragging across the wolf's cock and the lady's clit.  Tammy mostly tried to ignore all this, forcing her attention to the wolf, but her eyes would drift to the lady's tongue, and her fingers would press a little harder on her clit.  She pulled her paw out of her panties, giving her fingers a lick – mostly to keep things lubed up, but her heart beat a little faster when she tasted her own pussy.
	She would do this over and over again, forcing herself to look at the wolf, her vision sliding to his cock, then to the tongue, and she would rub harder, then quickly lick her paw, each time not sure how to feel about the semi-sweet, tangy taste of her own arousal.  She lifted her feet and rested them against the desk, her hips started moving on their own, slowly gyrating, grinding pussy against her fingers.  The fur on her butt was growing damper and damper as more and more of her juices soaked into the chair.
	“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
	Tammy squeaked in fear and quickly sat upright, trying to close the browser in a panic, but a few pictures were in different windows, and she left a smear of her pussyjuice on the mouse.  Her face burned with embarrassment as she turned to face Derrick; she was in her panties, he saw the picture, she was out of breath, and there was a damp spot on the chair.  She was completely caught.  She was grounded for sure, and the computer was probably lost to her forever.
	In a flash, Derrick had grabbed her wrist.  She was yanked out of the chair, bewildered and scared.  He sat down in her spot, and forcibly pulled her over his knees.  He was so strong, and so much bigger than her, but she had only known him to pick her up for tickles and wrestling.  This was weird and new and scary.  She tried to look up at him, but he held her down with his arm, holding her tail back with one paw and pulling her panties down with the other.  She squeaked again, tears in the corners of her eyes.
	“What,” Derrick shouted at her, bringing his hand down on her ass with a sharp slap.  She squealed out.  “The,” he said, another slap in the same spot causing her to moan with pain.  She gripped on to his khaki pants, teeth clenched, bracing for the next blow.  “Fuck,” he finished, another hard slap making her cheeks burn.  Was it done?
	She squealed and squirmed when she felt his finger dig in to her pussy, thicker and deeper than she had ever done herself.  She reared her head back and shook it as he smeared her pussy juice across her face, the sweet-tangy smell of her arousal now stuck in her nose.  There was so much of it, her pussy burning and dripping wet.
	He gave her more spankings, real pain making her scream out, “Ah!  Ah!  AH!” with each slap.  Three, four more spanks, then his finger was back in her pussy, harshly pumping in and out.  Her moans were deep and breathy, “Ahhh, mmmff, ohhhh,” her throat starting to get raw from the screaming.  She wasn't struggling any more.  He was so strong, she couldn't budge against him.
	More spanks rained down, and she groaned and writhed, feeling something prod her belly.  His finger was deep in her pussy again when she realized that it was his dick, bulging against his pants, pressing up against her belly.  She was confused before, but now she was completely lost.
	She let out a little moan when his fingers left her pussy, and strange mix of relief and disappointment.  The chair turned, and she let out a yelp when he pulled her hair back, lifting her up out of his lap and pressing her face against the monitor.  “Is this what you want,” he asked, with a scary growl in his voice.  The bondage picture was left on the screen.  “Do you want to be used like a toy?”  She let out a whimper, her throat too raw to make an actual reply, her head too full of pain and lust to have an answer.  Her ass and pussy ached, but in different ways, and she wasn't sure how she felt about either.  She did feel feeble, drained, and she was glad the desk was under her, because otherwise he would be holding her up by her hair.
	She felt something hot rub against her pussy, and before she could say anything, it was shoved inside of her, forcing a yelp from her lungs.  It was thick, hot, and hard, and she could only moan plaintively as it filled her up, reaching deeper than anything ever has before.  She couldn't look back, his paw was holding on too tightly to her hair, but she could feel a dull sting where his hips met her aching butt cheeks, and the thing inside of her was throbbing, making her breath come in heavy pants.  The thought that Derrick was having sex with her slipped through her mind, but the only thing she could focus on was the sensations – the sharp pain of her hair being tugged, the tingling ache of her ass cheeks, the throbbing heat inside her dripping pussy, the sting of her folds being stretched wider than ever before.
	He started to pull out, and she let out a low moan, “Aaaaannnnhhh,” which grew louder, and turned into a scream as something scraped her insides.  It didn't hurt, not really, but it kindof hurt, like dull claws scratching at her insides.  The sensation made her twitch and shake, her whole body felt like it was on fire now, inside and out.
	He didn't pull all the way out before he started pushing back in, and she wasn't ready for it.  She let out another yelp as he filled her once more, pushing up deep inside her, then groaned, “ooohhhffff,” as he pulled it out again.  The pain from the barbs didn't dull at all, but the pleasure kept building.  He mercilessly thrust in to her, each time burying his cock deep inside, his pelvis bumping against her sore cheeks, making them tingle.  She couldn't do anything except close her eyes and breath, each exhale a moan, each inhale a gasp.
	His paw yanked back on her hair, and she was pulled upright, her back against his chest.  One strong, immovable arm wrapped around her chest and a big paw pushed her training bra up and cupped her barely formed breast.  She whimpered as he toyed with her nipple, then screamed as he pushed his dick back in.
	In this position, the tip of his dick pushed against a new spot insider her, one that made her whole body sing.  It was almost too much, an overwhelming sensation so pleasurable it was almost painful.  She didn't even have time to catch her breath before he had thrust in to her again, a burst of pleasure making her clench her teeth.  On the third thrust she came, her stomach clenching, her limbs shaking, her body trying to curl into a ball, but his arm wouldn't let her.  Lights flashed in her eyes, and her mind went blank.  Every nerve was on fire, but his thrusting wouldn't stop.  Again and again, he pushed his dick against that spot, an explosion of sensations in her belly every time.  She couldn't think, she couldn't breath, the pleasure built up so overwhelmingly that it was painful.
	The arm went away, and she collapsed to the ground.  Her brain felt fuzzy, buzzing, and she couldn't move her limbs, even if she wanted to.  She didn't fight it when she felt two big paws pick her up, and prop her against the desk.  She could only comply when she felt hot, wet flesh enter her mouth, and a splash of something thick on top of her tongue.  She was only vaguely aware of being picked up, and carried away.

–

	Debbie came home to darkness and a smell.  The darkness, sadly, was familiar: all these late hours that she never wanted were forcing her into something of a nocturnal schedule, and she had grown used to pawing at the light switches sight unseen, navigating her way around the kitchen in the gloom of dawn.  The smell was new, however. It was faint at first, in the kitchen, just a light something extra that was both foreign and familiar.  She sniffed her scrubs, wondering if it was something on her, then sniffed around the kitchen, looking for plates or pans, something that would indicate a new dish being cooked.  Sometimes Derrick liked to get creative in the kitchen, though not lately.  Finding nothing, she opened the cupboard where they kept the snacks and tore in to a nut bar.  She didn't feel like eating anything too heavy, as she was likely to pass out the moment she settled down anywhere.
	Work was hard, and perpetually getting harder.  There had been days when the load was light, the coworkers were friendly, and the only stress came from jerk patients who insisted on living and kind patients who inevitably died.  But then the hospital was bought out by some company, and they promised everything would be the same, and that everyone was keeping their jobs.  And they did, for a while, but then Maria was fired for tardiness, the bosses acting on a point system that had been in place for years but no one paid attention to.  And then Tommy was fired for misconduct, rightfully telling a doctor that he was dumb and wrong, but doing so in front of a patient.  And soon, four of the hospitals best, most experienced (and, coincidentally, highest paid) nurses were shitcanned for petty reasons.  Certainly they broke the rules here and there, but usually only when the rules were stupidly strict, or with very good reason.  Debbie knew the real reason: they made too much money, and were cutting into the hospital's profits.
	She sighed and nibbled on her bar, trying to let go of it all, trying to will away the worries and outrage of work.  It was done for the day, and she was home.  What she needed was a shower, to literally and figuratively wash away the grime of work, but she had some chores to do first.
	The smell was much stronger in the office.  It was a tiny room, barely big enough for a desk and chair, so whatever it was filled the whole room.  The scent traveled through her nose, directly to her brain, triggering all sorts of vague and confused notions.  Then it went down to the pit of her stomach, making her center ache with... hunger?   Something.  It wasn't a great smell, but for some reason she couldn't get enough of it.  She filled her lungs with it, sniffing deep, trying to figure out what it was that made her so... so... hungry?  Whatever it was, she tried to ignore it as she sat down and booted up the computer.  
	There were some crumbs on the desk, which she swatted away, knowing Derrick wouldn't be happy about them.  There was also a weird smudge on the screen.  She'd have to talk to Tammy about touching the monitor with grubby paws.  After wiping away the smear, she went to her email and checked in on the bills.  It was the end of the month, so the mortgage and electrical were due.  She logged in to her bank's site and checked the accounts.  That was one good thing about perpetual overtime: they were never short on funds.
	If it weren't for that smell, she would have probably dozed off in the chair, right there in front of the computer – it has happened before – but whatever that scent was kept her mind on a simmer, filling her with an energy she couldn't put her finger on.  She made it through the bill-paying process, checked  a few social media sites quickly just to make sure she wasn't missing anyone's birthday or wedding or whatever, then shut down the computer and left the room.  In the hallway the air was cleaner, and the scent wasn't as strong.  She was able to clear her head a bit and figure out what she wanted to do next.
	Tammy had school today, so she was going to be awake in about an hour, and if Debbie could manage to stay awake, she might – wonder of wonders – actually talk to her child.  But she highly doubted she could stay awake.  Even with that smell up her nose, she was too tired to last very long.  She did want to at least look at her kid, though.
	She cracked Tammy's door open enough to poke her head through, and was met again by that smell.  Stronger than in the hall, but not as strong as the office.  Did Tammy bring food into her room again?  There were no obvious dishes laying around.  What was that smell?  But there was her child, sleeping like a log, covers kicked off as usual, splayed out like she was making a snow angel in the sheets.  It was weird that she was naked – Tammy usually slept in panties and a shirt – but it was warm today, so maybe the girl was trying to keep cool.  She blew her little girl a kiss and softly closed the door.
	Next up was a shower.  Whether the weird scent in the house was good or bad – she couldn't quite decide – her own smell probably wasn't contributing anything good to it.  She peeled off her scrubs in the bathroom, tossing them in the hamper specifically set aside for the pale blue garments that were regularly splattered with substances best left unmentioned.  Then she peeled off her panties and bra, checking herself in the mirror.
	Her hair was a mess – the ponytail she had quickly pulled it back into frayed and skewed to the side, chestnut brown hairs sticking out everywhere.  She had bags under her eyes, and she was beginning to fear that those would never go away, and there was some lettuce stuck in her teeth from lunch.  The rest of her wasn't so great either.  Her fur was mussed up and smooshed in every direction, her claws were chipped and scratched.  Running around the hospital all day kept her in decent shape, but stress packed on a few extra pounds around the middle.  She poked her belly and watched it jiggle with dismay.  Her hips were getting a little plumper than she would like, as well, though Derrick said that he liked it like that, so maybe that was okay.  She wondered if Tammy would get her hips, or if she would keep her father's scrawny behind.  Only time would tell.
	The water hit her back like the hands of a dozen masseuses, melting away the stress almost instantly.  She could feel herself uncoil, her muscles relax, her mind drift as steam filled the room.  She worked some soap into her fur as she concentrated on breathing and nothing else, trying to meditate while scrubbing down.  It wasn't quite working, though.  The steam had washed away the scent that was stuck in her nose, but the essence of it was still stuck in her mind, like a burr stuck in her fur.  Her paws drifted down, making sure her bush was lathered up.  She ran her fingers through the pelvic fur, making a note to trim it down later.  It had been a while since she and Derrick had made love.  Her fingers brushed against her folds as she remembered all the sordid details.
	After a year of being together, they had finally admitted to each other an affinity for kinky sex, though they both had meant different things when they said this.  His version of kinky was having her suck him clean after sex, and a fascination with putting things in her butt – his penis, toys, and at one point a bag full of soapy water.  Her version of kinky was rough sex, and being dominated, with leashes and cuffs and commands.  Somehow they meshed their kinks together, and while she wasn't exactly a fan of those barbs up her rear, and he wasn't exactly comfortable giving demeaning commands or slapping her when she disobeyed, they worked on accommodating each others' interests.
	A finger rested on her clit while two more stroked her folds.  The last time they had sex, he had her in a leash, his dick bucking deep into her ass while he teased her clit with a buzzer.  Despite his insistence, she rarely had anything up her ass, and had just recently allowed him back there.  They had to work up to it with various toys, and even though she reached the point to where he didn't hurt her back there, it was still uncomfortable.  So he would tug on the leash, and told her that he wouldn't stop until she came, and he wouldn't let her cum until she barked like a dog for him, and she had to beg for her orgasm.  When she finally did, he jammed the buzzer down, and she came so hard that she squirted well past the towel they laid down, and then blacked out for a minute, her bladder emptying as her whole body went limp.  Then he came in her ass, and she could feel the surge of heat up her backside, then felt it drain when he pulled out, his thick cum burbling and spluttering onto the towel.  They had to throw the towel and sheets away after that.
	Her fingers pressed down hard on her clit, the memory of his harsh bucking, the little nibbles on her neck propelling her on, with that scent still stuck in the back of her mind.  She worked her clit until she dropped to her knees, the burst of a much needed orgasm shaking her body.  She twitched and panted, the warm water pouring over her back while she regained her senses.  And then, just like her husband liked to see, she licked her fingers clean, suckling on the digits, savoring the taste of her own arousal.  It made her somewhat ashamed to think it, but after cleaning off Derrick's cock so many times, she was beginning to like the flavor.
	She turned off the water just as it was starting to turn cold.  One of the few upswings to working late was that she didn't have to fight for hot water.  She toweled herself down and used the hair-dryer on her tail.  It would be a fluffy mess tomorrow, but there was no way she was going to bed with a moist tail.  Derrick hated that more than being woken up by the noise, and he was a heavy sleeper anyway.  Tammy might have been bothered, but she was young, and could bounce back from the lack of sleep more easily than either of them could.
	She quietly slipped into the bedroom, towel wrapped around her waist.  It was faint, but that smell was here as well.  She pawed around the room, eyes adjusting to the silvery moonlight coming from the window.  She didn't want to turn on the light, for fear of waking Derrick.
	Just as she was about to throw off her towel, she froze when she heard Derrick stir in the bed.  Had she woken him?  She turned to look at him, and was shocked to find him up and coming towards her.  Before she could let out a peep, his mouth was pressed against hers.  It was weird at first, she wasn't expecting such an intense kiss, or a kiss at all, but in a moment she relaxed and opened her mouth a little, letting his tongue slip in.  “Mfff!”  She tried to communicate something, anything, really, but he had already stripped her of the towel, letting it fall to the floor, and his paws were on her hips, pulling her against him, his fully erect cock pressing against her belly.
	She broke away from the kiss, catching her breath.  “Derrick, what-”
	But he was on her again, lips covering hers awkwardly before she eased into the kiss again.  He pulled her sideways, her footpaws taking stumbling half-steps as he maneuvered her around, and she let out a little scream as he pushed her on the bed.  He'd never been so forceful before.  Or, at least, not spontaneously.  But there he was, standing over her with a look on his face like he was about to pounce, fully erect dick gleaming in the moonlight.
	And pounce he did.  She hardly had time to get her tail out from under her back before he was on top of her, his paws pushing her legs open wide, exposing her sex, still a little wet from her time in the shower.  She gave out a little moan as his maw clamped over her folds, tongue stroking her clit hard while a finger slid into her pussy and curled up.  She was still feeling the effects of her orgasm in the shower, so she was breathing hard as his tongue darted and dashed across her sensitive nub, “haaah, haaah, aaah!”  her breath catching every time he curled his finger right into her g-spot.
	She shifted and wiggled, each flick of his tongue, each curl of his finger making her shudder or writhe.  She gripped his hair with a paw, fingers curling and tugging with each new shock of pleasure.  Her other paw rested on her breast, massaging, lightly pinching the fleshy mound.  She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet for Tammy's sake, moaning into her lip, “Mmmf, mfff, rmmf.”
	And then he was on her, his mouth hot on hers.  She knew what he wanted.  Releasing her lower lip, she opened her mouth and let his tongue enter her mouth, carrying with it the faint taste of her own pussy.  She moaned and wrapped her tongue around his, while at the same time wrapping her arms around him.  Next came his fingers, those fingers that made her squirm.  He put them against her lips, and she obediently wrapped her lips around them.  The taste of her own pussy was heavy, and she licked every last trace of it off his fingers, her tongue wrapping around, in between, combing the short, soft finger fur.
	He let out a feral growl that made her shiver with anticipation; she could feel his cock rubbing against her pubic fur, could feel the heat of it, and how hard he was.  He took his fingers out of her mouth, and kissed her lips, then her cheek, then the crook of her neck, whispering something into her fur that she couldn't quite hear.  It almost sounded like, “forgive me.”  And then he thrust his cock up in to her, catching her by surprise, making her gasp then moan as he filled her in that old familiar way.
	“I love you,” he whispered, and before she had a chance to respond, he pulled back, his barbs scratching against her insides.  She let out a yelp and a whimper, “Aaah! Oohhh.”  It had been too long since she had felt him, and it took a few pumps to get used to the scratching sensation.  “Aaah.  Eeee.  Ahhh! Mmmmf.  Mmmm, ahhhhyesss!”
	Derrick was kissing, nibbling anything he could while he steadily rocked his hips against her.  She lifted her legs up and wrapped them around him, pulling him closer to her.  They kissed and moaned and grunted and growled.  She hadn't felt this much passion since, well, not the first time, but the third or fourth time they had made love, when they knew each other a little better, knew each others' rhythms, knew how to meld in to one another, but before the routine settled in.
	“Aaaah.  Mfffuck, yes.  Ohhhh.”  She bit her lip, remembering that Tammy was in across the hall.  “Mfff, hffff, Mmmmmff.”
	“I love you so much,” he whispered between heavy breaths.  “You're so beautiful.”
	She clung tightly to him, her fingers gripping the fur on his back, her whole body rocking with the momentum of his thrusts.  Her mind fuzzed over as she let herself melt in to him, her body buzzing,  fur meshing against fur, his whispers of adoration almost lost under her heavy panting.  “Haah, haah, haaaaaaaaaa.” 
	“I never want this to end.”
	The barbs of his cock tore against her insides, scratching, pulling.  It was reaching the point where it hurt, where the sharp pleasure turned to sharp pain, but she didn't mind, as long as his hips kept thump thump thumping against hers.
	“I would do anything for you.”
	“Nnnn, mmmm, ffffffffuck.”
	She came, her stomach contracting her thighs pulling him against her in a death grip as she shook and clawed at his back.  He kept going, he always did, powering through her first orgasm, overwhelming her, his arms holding her down, her head hurting from the rush.  “Haaaaaa, oh GOD!” 
	He said something, something like, “don't leave me,” but she wasn't sure she could hear him right.  He kept rocking in to her, even as her limbs lost strength, her body going lax, a doll in his iron grasp.  She gasped for breath, then moaned out, “ooooohgod,” as he redoubled his efforts.  She could tell he was close, and her body tensed with his.  He bit down on her neck, and she soundlessly came again as his cock pounded and tore at her g-spot.  The he let out a growl against her flesh, and she could feel his cock surge inside her.
	They lay there together, him slumping to her side, still staying close to her, pressing his body against hers.  She turned in and snuggled up against him, giving his lips a light peck as she caught her breath.  His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his body.  She nestled into his chest for a minute, listening to his heart slowing down, feeling closer to him than she has in a long, long time.
	After a moment, she pulled away, pushing him on to his back before moving down.
	His cock was slumped over, half erect, still glistening with his and her own cum.  She grabbed it by the base and nuzzled the tip with her nose, the musky scent of sex and sweat filling her nostrils.  Maybe this was the smell earlier, the one that had put her in this mood in the first place.  She couldn't remember any more.  She put her tongue at the base of his shaft, then drug it up to the top, the taste of her own pussy building on her tongue.  He was erect by the time she reached the tip, and more precum was dribbling out the top after the second lick.  She put her mouth around his shaft, letting her tongue wander around it.  She cleaned each little spike, making sure every bit of her flavor was slurped up.  By then his paw was on the back of her head, fingers gripping her hair, holding her firmly in her place.  She lapped at the underside of his cock as his hips bucked up. His cock was rock hard, filling her mouth, and she could only grunt and lick as his thrusts grew faster and faster.  He was saying something like, “you're too good to me,” but she didn't really hear it.  The barbs scratched, sometimes, at her gums and the roof of her mouth, but he knew not to push it too far.  She kept her lips tight around his dick, her tongue catching globs of salty precum, then suddenly a burst of cum splashing against her tongue.  He looses his grip on her hair, but she kept his cock in her mouth, suckling on him until she knew she had sucked out all she could.  
	He then released her head, and she pulled her mouth off his cock.  Her jaw hurt a little, but she still gave the softening member a little kiss before crawling up to him, snuggling into his chest.  “I love you so much,” he said.
	“I love you, to,” she replied.
	They cuddled up close against each other, and she held on to him as tight as she could, not caring if her arm would fall asleep under him.  His fur was so warm and soft, and his rhythmic breathing lulled her into a deep, satisfying slumber.

– 

	Derrick didn't sleep.  He rolled under the covers in a nervous sweat, the blankets too heavy, too itchy, the air stifling, the dark too dark.  The seconds slowly oozed past as he waited for his wife to come home, each minute filled with a lifetime of regret.  Tammy was bound to be awake, she was certain to stop her mother in the hallway and tell her what he did.  His wife would most certainly call the cops, the FBI, the Secret Service.  He would be in prison by morning, and the inmates would have him dead by noon.
	He shouldn't have done it.  He didn't know what he was thinking.  He loved his wife.  Why would he do this to her?  She would never talk to him again.  She might even hurt him, for hurting her daughter.  He would never get to hold her paw, hear her laugh, smell her fur...
	But that didn't happen.  Debbie came home, took a shower, and came in the room unhindered.  He was so relieved.  He only wanted to be with his wife.  He took her, told her how much he loved her, and hopefully made it last, because it could have been the last time he ever was to hold her in that way.
	He lay awake with her in his arms.  Maybe if he kept her there, kept Tammy away, he could stave off his horrible fate for another day.  He heard Tammy get up, get ready for school.  Every bump, every thud could have been the cops storming in, ready to sweep him away.
	When he was sure she was gone, he got up, and prepped for his own day at work, mind lost in a haze of worry and exhaustion.  He didn't eat – couldn't eat.  He kept his ears perked for the sound of sirens, or hushed orders barked, a commando squad rushing to surround the house.  He opened the front door with extreme caution.
	Work was a haze.  He filled out paperwork, but he had no idea if he did any of it correctly.  He ignored Matt completely.  Every time the receptionist barked her greeting, he looked up from his cubicle, certain to see dark blue or black uniforms, shiny cuffs, thick mustaches.  It was all couriers and clients.  He ate lunch like a ravenous maniac in the back of the building, next to the emergency exit.  He wasn't sure if he was going to try to run from the cops – that sort of thing always seemed like such great folly – but he liked having the exit strategy, despite being crammed next to dusty racks of folding chairs like a deranged hermit.
	The drive home was sheer, gut churning terror.  If they were going to snag him, if they were going to take him down, it would surely be when he came home.  They probably wouldn't all be parked in front of his house, that would be a dead giveaway, he could drive off.  Or maybe they'd block off the roads, have the cars drive in behind him so he couldn't reverse out.  But, no, there were no cops on his way home.  He parked the car in the driveway and wasn't immediately tackled when he stepped out.  He opened the front door, he could almost smell the gun polish from the officers hiding behind the door, but... nothing.  Nothing in the kitchen, no cops in the living room.  Slowly, he opened the door to the office.
	There she was, bent over across the computer chair, the crotch of her pink cottony panties pushed aside.  Her arm was between her legs, two fingers working in and out of her pussy as she looked up at him, already breathing heavy.  “I've been bad,” she moaned under her breath.
	There was no thought, there was no hesitation.  In an instant, Tammy was lifted up over Derrick's knees and her panties were pulled down around her thighs.  She didn't even struggle as the flat of his palm came down on her fuzzy rear; she let out a yelp, she squirmed a little, but she stayed put.  He left his paw there, feeling the heat coming from her nethers.  He slid a finger between her cheeks, feeling just how wet she already was.  He dipped a finger in her honeypot, then a second, mimicking her earlier masturbation.  She moaned and gripped at his pants, one paw awkwardly reaching back and rubbing at his groin.  He pulled his fingers out of her pussy, then pressed them against her lips, where she took them in and suckled on them eagerly.  Once his fingers were clean, he undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and let his fully erect cock spring out, rubbing against the soft fur of her ribs.  She grabbed hold of it, stroking it as best she could at such an angle.  He spanked her again, and again, her grip on his dick tightening ever so slightly with each blow.
	He spent a good while with her on his lap like that, switching between fingering and spanking.  Just when it seemed like she couldn't take another spank, he would start fingering her, and just when it seemed like she was about to cum, he would spank her again.  She whimpered and squirmed and whined, and a couple of times he thought she let out a little burst of pee when he spanked her, but he wasn't sure, because it would soak into her fur so quickly.  Maybe she was a squirter like her mother.
	Veins throbbed on his cock, precum dribbling out in a steady flow, coating her soft little paw.  Sometimes she would weakly stroke it, and sometimes she would forget to move it at all, her grip tightening more and more with each spank, which was just as good.  But he finally couldn't take any more.  He hefted her up with his paws under her armpit, and she gave a surprised little squeak when he pushed her against the mirror on the back of the door.  Pushing her tail out of the way, he lined the tip of his dick up against her pussy, already feeling the heat radiating from her sex.  Her outer folds were soft and yielding, easily spreading to reveal the glistening red and pink insides.  He firmly pushed into her, loving how tight she was even after all that fingering.  She let out a long, slow moan as his cock filled her, the steam from her breath fogging the mirror.  He pushed in until his pelvis pressed against her rear, then he pushed further, making her squeak and her tail twitch against his face.
	She was so tight, her pussy hugging his cock with a hot softness, but also squeezing, clenching down on him as she twitched and moaned.  He wanted to stay buried inside her forever, feel her squirm and writhe around his dick until he died of old age.  He pulled back on her hips, trying to shove his cock deeper inside her young pussy, but their bodies were already pressed together as much as they could be.  He pulled his hips back, and he could feel his barbs scrape against her insides, and he knew she could feel it as well, the way she shuddered and groaned.  Then he pushed in again, making her moan once more, sending a fresh layer of steam on the mirror.
	He watched her face in the mirror as he slowly fucked her, the way her eyebrows raised in bliss as he pushed in, the way her brow furrowed in pain as he pulled out, how inviting her mouth looked as she groaned out in pleasure.  Her eyes stayed closed, for the most part, but sometimes they would pop open if he surprised her with a quick thrust, or a sharp slap to the rear.
	His thrusts forced her forward, her little legs losing the strength to keep her rear pushed out.  After a couple stumbling little half-steps, he had her pinned to the door, each thrust pounding her pelvis into the mirror.  Sweat, drool, pussy juice, and pre-cum were smeared against the glass.  She was so tiny compared to him, he could do whatever he wanted with her and she couldn't stop him, but it didn't look like she was going to try to stop him anyway.  He began to pant, his heavy breath in rhythm with her plaintive moans.
	She squealed and screamed, her body clenching around him.  He growled and pulled her hair, punishment for cumming before he did, but she didn't seem to notice, her eyes clenched closed, her body shaking as she gasped and moaned.  Her pussy was already so tight, but now it was milking his cock, and he could feel her juices dribbling down his balls.  He kept pounding, smashing her pelvis into the mirror, and she squealed again, her face contorting as if she were in pain.  Her whole body clenched, and he could feel her shake and convulse with another orgasm, her pussy clamping down on his cock.  He let out a roar as he exploded inside her, cumming so much that it almost felt like he was peeing.  He slammed his dick as deep as he could into her young tunnel, her ass cheeks pressed against his pelvis, her convulsing folds around the base of his dick.  
	After a few seconds of fuzzy blankness, he noticed that she hadn't passed out this time.  She was weak, but panting, moaning, making little noises with what little breath she had left.  He pulled out, eliciting a squeak from her, and let her slide down the mirror to her knees, her fur smearing the splatters of pussy-juice.  She almost crumpled to the ground, but he caught her under her arms and held her against himself
	He turned and slumped against the mirror, his back fur moping up the rest of the juices on the glass as he slid to the ground with his step-daughter laying across his lap.  He watched her as his heart slowed down,  the grey fur of her flat little chest rising and falling, her brown eyes fluttering as she struggled to remain conscious, her big bushy tail twitching slightly.  Regrets began to slip around the edge of his mind again, and he replayed the event in his head, reassuring himself that she wanted it, she asked for it, but wondering if that mattered any.
	He had cum inside her, too.  She was laying on her side, and he could see a string of pearly white dripping over her matted fur from between her legs.  He wondered if it would take, if he could get her pregnant, if she was even old enough, where they could get the morning after pill...
	He felt a slight bump, Tammy apparently still awake.  He looked down and saw her nuzzle his still somewhat erect shaft with her cute little nose.  A string of sex-juices formed when she pulled away, then broke when she shifted up so that she could lick at his shaft.  His cock swiftly stiffened as her soft tongue traveled from base to tip, collecting the thin layer of sex-juices and swallowing them up.  She made a little moaning noise as she shifted, coming at his cock from a new angle, lapping up another swath of mess in a long, slow lick.  By the time she reached the tip of his dick, he was rock hard again.
	He couldn't stand it.  He reached over and hoisted her up, pulling her away so that he could move his legs, then pushed her so that she was kneeling in front of him.  She turned her head back with a look that he thought was confusion and pain, until she breathed, “Please, more.”  She lifted her big bushy tail exposing her dripping pussy.
	There was no more thought after that.  One moment he was watching a bead of his cum slowly ooze out of her abused pussy, the smell of her arousal and his cum filling his nose, the next moment he was slamming his cock into her.  He panted and growled while she squealed and gasped.  He thrust and spanked while she squirmed and clenched.  He pounded harder and harder while she crumpled to the ground, face smooshed against the plastic mat that the office chair rolls on.
	He was sweating, his hips burning, his head swimming when he came again, his cock jerking and twitching inside her.  Besides a few tired squeaks, and her chest rising and falling, she was showing no signs of movement.  He pulled out and – soar muscles stiffening – tumbled to the floor beside her.  His dick was rapidly cooling, and his groin fur was matted with sweat and her juices.

– 

	It happened again.
	At five in the morning the alarm screamed, and Tammy woke once again in a fuzz of soreness, pain, and aches.  Her arms and legs ached, a low hum of overuse coursing through them.  She was fairly active, but far from athletic.  Her pussy hurt, not just the outer folds, but deep within, a part of her she didn't think she could reach if she tried.  And her ass was sore, a low sting with every brush against the bed.
	She didn't remember going to bed.
	Slapping the alarm, she nursed herself up and to the edge of the bed, bit by bit, discovering all the ways in which her body could protest such a thing – new muscles that ached, different patches of flesh feeling tender.  Her shoulders muscles, her wrists, her inner thighs, burning with each movement.
	He raped me again, she thought.
	Looking between her legs, she could see the evidence plainly.  Thin, white-ish, crusty, like dried snot, plastered all over the fur between her legs.  It covered the light fur of her mound, and spilled down to the dark fur of her thighs. It felt like the same stuff that was on her chin the previous morning.  She picked at it, making it crumble and fall away. A smell rose up, familiar yet foreign, new yet old.
	She liked it.
	Wincing a little, she pushed a finger between her puffy folds, finding the scoured flesh slick still.  She curled her finger, shivering at the sensation, and pulled it out, finding it covered in a film of frothy white.  Some of it was his, but some of it was also hers.  She gave it a light sniff, grimacing at the musky smell.  It wasn't a good smell.  Not really. If her friends smelled it, they'd make noises and pretend to gag.  But.  She sniffed it again, something in the scent catching the back of her brain, hooking her stomach.  She was about to lick it, but decided that sniffing it was far enough.
	It was the same as yesterday.
	She hobbled out her room and to the bathroom, taking care, as always, to minimize noises, so that she wouldn't wake her mom or... him. She turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right, then stood in the downpour. The warm water flowed over her, soaked in to her fur, and helped ease some of the aching.  She had cried, yesterday, just a little, but she wasn't entirely sad.  Overwhelmed, mostly, not sure what to think.  It had hurt, and still did.  But it was a warm pain, complete with a strange mix of accomplishment and shame.  None of her friends had had sex yet, but, it wasn't like they were rushing to do so.  They were all 'good girls',  or at least decent, in a non-judgemental-but-also-we-can-be-naughty-if-we-wanted-to kind of way.  They'd giggle, and be thrilled by the prospect of having sex, but only with someone they loved deeply and were in a committed, long term relationship.  Certainly not their step-father.
	Was it wrong?
	Legs spread, she massaged the mess out of her fur, starting at her inner thighs and working up, the substance sometimes washing away easily, sometimes clumping and clinging to her fur.  Learning lessons from the day before, she was starting to get the hang of getting it out.  He had cum inside her this time.  She wasn't entirely sure what the consequences of that were, but she knew it was a big deal of some sort.  Just like it was a big deal being raped by your step-father.  Was it incest?  Not really.  He wasn't even the same species.  It was still wrong, though, right?  He was married to her mother.  There must have been some sort of law against that.  And was he cheating on her mom, but with her?  She didn't even want to try to unravel that.  It was bad.  Yes. But, why?  He raped her.  Kindof.  The first time for sure.  The second time, she... She had asked for it, right?
	She had.
	She let out a little moan, her fingers sliding in and out of her pussy, both easing and inflaming the scoured flesh inside.  It was just like this yesterday.  She couldn't stop touching herself. It started in the shower, and she swore she was done after that, but her fingers kept creeping back.  On the bus, in class, she tried to hide it as best she could, but she couldn't keep from touching her pussy.  All day she was in a haze, unable to concentrate on anything but her own folds, and when she had finally come home, she had no choice but to finger herself until he showed up.  Today there was an extra thrill, a spike of naughtiness knowing that he came inside her.  
	She forced herself to stop when the water started to turn cold, fearing that she'd showered too long, knowing the school bus didn't wait for anyone.  She thought about calling in sick, giving her time to sort things out, but she had a feeling she would only paw off until Derrick got home from work.  Toweling off, getting dressed, and quickly nibbling down a small breakfast, she bolted off for school, wondering if it would happen again that evening.

–

	At thirty minutes 'till noon, Debbie groaned and slapped at her phone a few times before finally picking it up and turning off the alarm.  She felt tired, she felt sore, she felt great. Two nights in a row, Derrick had ambushed her after her shower, playing aggressive, making love to her with such passion.
	It was more than the previous night – a different energy.  He forced her down, slapped her, fucked her, made her clean his dick with her mouth, then fucked her again, came all over her face, made her clean his dick again, fucked her ass, choked her a little, came in her ass while spanking her hard, dragged her to the shower, made her scrub his dick, then fucked her against the wall while the water turned cold.  He'd never been that aggressive before.  She'd never came that hard before.
	She'd been so out of touch with Derrick and Tammy because her weird fluctuating hours and long shifts.  Sometimes she wondered if they would even notice if she stopped coming home.   She would have been sure they wouldn't, two nights ago.
	She stared at the clock on her phone for much longer than she should have, watching the minutes tick by, wondering if she could get away with calling in sick, but she didn't think she could muster up enough charisma to carry off the bluff; they took that sort of thing seriously in a hospital.  Maybe she could swap shifts with someone.  She unlocked the phone and dialed work without thinking.
	“Ava County General this is Sherra speaking how may I help you,” Sherra said, in the voice of someone who's answered far too many phones in her lifetime.
	“Hey Sherra, it's Deb.  You think someone would want to swap shifts with me?”
	“Sure thing.  What day do you want?”
	“Uh... today?”
	“Oh, so you want to work today, okay, I'll have to call a few people but I'm sure someone could use the hours.”
	“Wait, what?”
	“I think Gina wants Saturday off.  She always does.  We could give her a try.”
	“No, Sherra, I don't want to work today.”
	“Nobody does.”
	“No, I mean... wait, do I have today off?”
	“Yeah.”
	“Oh.  I thought... Never mind.  I thought I worked today.”
	“Nope.”
	“Well, okay.  Okay then.  I, uh.  I'll talk to you later.”
	“Girl, you work too much.  You're frazzled.  Get some rest.  And then get you some.  I know your man's good for it.  I saw you wobble into work yesterday.”
	“I'm hanging up the phone now, Sher.”
	“Just tell me how much those cat dicks hurt, I really-”
	Sherra was cut off when Debbie ended the call. Maybe it was rude, but she had given ample warning.  The little mouse had a tendency to let her mouth run on, but she wasn't wrong.  What with the extra shifts and Derrick's amorous attacks, she had hardly slept at all the last few days.  Looking at the clock on her phone she decided, “fuck everything.” and settled back to sleep.
	When she opened her eyes again, it was almost six.  Her head was stuffy, her eyelids heavy, and her groin still sore.  Wonderfully sore, but sore none the less.  Derrick should be home, soon if not by then.  And Tammy would be home.  She tried to think of how long it had been since she had talked to her daughter face to face instead of through phones and text.
	As the fuzz was slowly lifting from her brain, an awareness grew in her mind.  A sound, rhythmic, sharp, high pitched but not grating, and sometimes varying in pitch.  Eee, eee, eee, ooo, eee, aaa.  She tried to think of what it could be, being too sore and lazy to get out of bed immediately to find out.  Maybe Tammy was jumping on her bed, and it was squeaking.  Or maybe someone was scooting around in a chair? It was too rhythmic to be someone moving heavy furniture. It was probably Tammy doing something silly and potentially damaging to the floor.
	She rolled out of bed, stood, wobbled, then sat back down, her pelvic muscles not quite ready for such a maneuver yet.  She had slept half on her tail, and now the fur was all smooshed flat on one side.  She took some time trying to tame the fluff, hoping that the sound would end; she didn't want the first thing she said to her child to be a scolding.  Maybe it was the washing machine, unbalanced, but it was too high pitched, and not thumpy enough.
	After enough time passed, she sighed and stood, wobbled, but managed to start walking.  Unfortunately, her paws were still aching from work.  Padding around long hallways all day was not a way for anyone to live. She slipped on a pair of loose pants and a baggy blouse before leaving the room. Once she was in the hallway, the sound seemed to be coming from the living room.  Blinking and rubbing goobers from her eyes, she padded down the short hallway.
	Just like the sound had done, awareness of a smell started growing in her mind, the same smell had been lurking around the house like a musky ghost for the last two days.  It was odd, and also arousing, which was also odd.  Maybe she'd finally get to see what was making that smell.  She reached the end of the hall, and from the top of the stairs, she could see a sliver of the living room.
	The first thing she saw was Derrick, shirt off, determined look on his face.  She knew this look.  She saw it last night.  He was thrusting, hard, his black fur shimmering as his body undulated.  Then she saw Tammy, naked except a pair of pink panties dangling off one of her ankles, her bushy little tail bobbing with every thrust.  She was on her hands and knees on top of the coffee table, groaning, moaning, squeaking as she was being pounded by her step-father.
	Debbie couldn't believe what she was seeing.  So many emotions clamored to be felt first, but they all got stuck.  She should feel outrage, she should feel shame, she should feel betrayal, she should feel disgust, but nothing was coming to the fore.  She watched on.
	Derrick swatted the little girl's ass, hard slaps that made Tammy squeak, writhe.  Tammy's paws fought for a grip on the polished wood of the coffee table, each thrust pushing her a little off balance.  Derrick grabbed the girl by her hair, lifted her up, used a claw to prick her stiff little nipple, groping, the little mounds that were not even a pawfull.
	From this angle, Debbie could see it all: her husband's thick, pink cock filling her daughter's dripping pussy.  She could see her slender little girl squirming, writhing, and convulsing as she came.  She could see her man bite down on her girl's neck, growling as his cock throbbed and filled the tiny pussy with hot cum.
	They collapsed, Derrick on the sofa, Tammy belly first on the coffee table.  For a while they lay there and panted together.  Then, Debbie stood transfixed as she watched her daughter lift herself up, turn to her husband, and lower her head into his lap. The girl's frazzled pony-tail bobbed up and down while he moaned happily.  Then she looked up at her step-father, saliva still dripping from her lips, and said, “More.  I want more.”
	Debbie lost the will to stay standing.  She lowered herself to the floor, sitting still as she watched her husband force his cock down her daughter's throat.
	She should be crying.  She should be pleading for it to stop.  She should be angry.  Tammy, Debbie, someone should.  Instead, Derrick was pounding his step-daughter into the living room floor, the girl begging for more, while Debbie's paw slowly slid down her pants.  
