Anniversaries

I’m still alive! Can you believe it’s been almost ten years since I introduced you all to these fucked up pups? It’s not quite their anniversary yet, but I’ve been thinking of them recently and I miss them. I decided to commission some more artwork of them and neelix came through for me a few months back. I liked it so much, I wanted to see if I still got it, and attempted to write another mini-chapter. I’ve kind of placed this between chapters 22-23. Maybe it’s fanfic. Maybe its headcanon. Either way, I hope you enjoy these disgusting dogs doing unacceptable things. Bad dogs, bad!

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Addiction

Chapter Twenty-two and a half

I Arise

by

Rufus Quentin

Story

The ides of March, 1998

I shouldn’t be doing this in my condition, I thought to myself as I heaved another shovel full of wet, heavy snow off the sledge of our driveway. The words “my condition”, repeated like an echo in my mind, normalizing, pathologizing the results of the pregnancy test I’d taken just days ago. Slowly, day by day, I came to grapple with my new reality. I panted vapor into the cold mountain air and leaned on the shovel, catching my breath. I looked up at the sky, at how the hilltops vanished into the low, slow, leaden clouds. The familiar face of an ancient cliff gazed back at me far in the distance through the haze of fine, lightly falling snow.

How many eons were etched in the Precambrian stone? What orogeny thrust this unfortunate rock aloft? When did erosion lift the veil of soil and destine this solemn escarpment to preside upon this hapless valley? These layers of brown and gray and black towered over this place since before my parents even set foot on this property, and would no doubt continue to do so until I and my entire lineage turned to dust. As I counted the strata, for a moment, for the first time since those particularly careless winter nights during which I lost my self-control around Dustin, I felt OK. I was not the first to stand here. I was not the first mother-to-be to look up at these hills and worry. I was not the first to feel overwhelmed by a disappointing fate. I was not the first one here to seek deliverance from my own bad decisions and bargain with any god willing to bring me away from here, and put me in the body of anyone marginally more fortunate than myself. This is what it felt like to be. Others have been before me.

I heard it before I saw it. The familiar roar of the old Datsun approached, just when my reflection had grown old. The car barreled down the road a moment later, and rumbled down our partly plowed driveway, coming to a stop just a few feet from me. Dustin hopped out after silencing the engine, feet planting on the frost covered gravel. I dropped my shovel and stepped over to him. I knew I needed to tell him I was pregnant. I strongly considered blurting it out. I had more courage in that moment than I was able to muster since I found out. The breath those words needed collected in my lungs, but left my body in the form of silent vapor.

“Sis,” Dustin said, approaching me with a slight effortless smile on his features. He couldn’t possibly know it made him magnetic. He carried something in a box.
In case I’d forgotten, as I so often did, why it was so easy for me to make all my mistakes, to frequently strip my clothes one by one, and give myself body and spirit to my biological brother, his appearance reminded me of my vices. He wore his slender jeans. His fur, tousled from the wind, framed his face just right—soft around the edges but still somehow rugged, like he didn’t care and yet somehow always looked good anyway. The damp gloom made the worn seams of his fleece-lined denim jacket seem warm. The collar carelessly turned up slightly, brushing his jaw. I reached out, fixed it for him, straightening up his clothing and the long fur of his mane. I smiled the like the besotted girl I’d been for him for the half-year of our strange relationship.

“I got you something.” He said, nudging my muzzle up to his for an impromptu kiss. Realizing our carelessness, we both looked around at the snowy wilderness as if startled, eyes and ears perked at the road and in the direction of our closest neighbors. Seeing nothing suspicious, our muzzles reunited and we kissed again reassured of our privacy.

“What?” I asked, tasting my sibling. I cast a glance at the battered, rectangular cardboard box he held.

“I’m crap at wrapping,” he said and handed it to me. It felt heavy in my hands. Something clunky rattled around in there. “Just open it,” he advised as I wondered about its contents.

There was no tape or anything. I unfolded the flaps on one end and pulled out what at first seemed like a piece of lumber. It felt smooth to the touch. I inhaled with genuine surprise as I beheld a rather handsome plaque of live-edged wood. Someone had woodburned in a detailed picture of our house, replete with garden and outline of the hills behind us. The Datsun in all its dilapidated glory parked in front of the garage. Iron fittings were already attached to the back for immediate hanging. “Dusty,” was all I could say with a tenor of surprise and humility.

“Kevin did it. He’s artsy. I just found the wood and stained it. I yanked it from the shed out there. You’ll always have a piece of the house wherever you go. Hang it in your dorm, or something like that.”

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble. This… is pretty amazing,” I said and looked up at my sibling.

“It’s nothing. You’ve been down for some odd reason since you got accepted. Figured you were having mixed feelings about leaving.”

“Well,” I said, swallowing. “That’s not too far off the mark.” I ran my finger over the polished wood, feeling the light indents of the branding on the surface and the curve of the live edge.

“Kevin’s leaving too,” Dustin announced.

“Really? He’s like your best friend, isn’t he?” I looked at Dustin. I could sense discomfort in the way he delivered that bit of news to me.

“Getting married too. As soon as school’s over. He’s talking about Florida. He’s got a cousin down there already. It’s a better place to have a kid and all that shit.”
Dustin’s sentences were short. To the point as always, but deadpan in a way that underscored some hidden resentment.

“It feels like just a few months ago we were just kids pretending to be adults, and now here we are, making plans.” I said, leaning in to give Dustin a long, sincere hug. Again, our muzzles darted to the sound of a passing car. We waited to reembrace until it passed and drove well down the road. I felt Dustin kiss my forehead.

“It’s what you wanted. You couldn’t wait,” he said. “Just a couple more months and you’ll have a real boyfriend; one you don’t need to be ashamed about.”

“Dusty,” I said, judging his lack of faith in my love for him, while simultaneously understanding his point. Could a relationship like ours survive the distance? Could it survive in the real world at all? “You know I love you. We’ll be out of here together,” I said, insisting on our half-baked plan.

I felt Dustin take a deep breath in our embrace, but he didn’t say anything else. We’d had this conversation before, and he wasn’t going to have it again.
“Thanks Dusty,” I said, and squeezed him so hard, he coughed.

My brother didn’t respond right away. The winter sound rushed past my ears. “It’s nothing. I love you too and all that gay shit,” he said, as I began to anticipate his response. I believed him. Since I got my acceptance letters, all the old impossibilities of us attempting to be more than just idiotic fuck buddies were back on the table. A necessary, forced end to all of this could not be eliminated as a possibility and we knew it.

We left the cold and returned indoors, letting the snow turn to rain, turn to sleet, and back into snow as it got dark. I felt particularly drawn to Dusin as I cooked dinner, and he did his homework nearby to the radio. I needed him now more than ever. I needed to tell him everything. I just needed another day to pretend everything was normal and hold on to just a few more hours of this innocent love that had already turned irrevocably serious.

“I need your help,” I told Dustin after dinner, well after he stashed his wrinkled homework and poorly organized binder into his backpack for the morning.

“What,” he said, casting a glance at me with all appearances of mild irritation as he stepped into the living room.

“Let’s hang this,” I said, holding the woodburning he and Kevin made for me.

“Now?” He said, “It’s for your dorm.”

“Why not? Not moving for months,” I said, feeling a twinge of doubt course through me like a shock.

Dustin sighed. “After the show?” He said, remote in hand, nodding at the television he was about to turn on, as if pleading with me.”

“It’s just a second,” I said.

My brother surrendered and followed me upstairs after a quick trip to the basement for hammer and nails. I pointed to the bare space above my door after he asked me where I wanted the plaque and watched him precariously climb onto my desk chair to nail and affix the illustration to its new home. It looked good there.

Dustin seemed to be on his way back downstairs as soon as he finished, but I reached out and caught him by his flannel sleeve. “I’m not going to leave you, you know that?” I said, eyes raising to his familiar tawny face and snout.

“Yea you are,” he answered.

“I mean leave you. Leave-leave you,” I said and tugged him a bit closer, not wanting him to leave the room.

Dustin paused, he looked at me, then down the hall, then back at me. Again, I had to wait for him to reply and all he said was, “Okay.”

I pulled him back into my room, close to me. For a moment, he stood with a look of perturbed confusion as I beamed the most inviting smile I could muster; something that seemed honest in this time of lies. My toes propelled me upward so that my muzzle could reach his. We kissed each other. His slender collie muzzle pressed against mine. Our colors and fur matched as in in a perverse mirror. My heartbeat accelerated within seconds.

I licked my brother’s lips and tilted my muzzle ever so slightly, perhaps tacitly suggesting more interesting things to do than watch television. Just as I began to assume my gambit failed, Dustin began to warm to my approach. His hands followed a course indicative of his fondness for my body. I’d learned to appreciate the periphery of his and I showed him as much. I clutched his flannel, tasted his saliva, and emerged my olfactory organs in his scent. My tail fanned the dust off the furniture behind me despite my desire to control such a shameful show of joy. How dumb was I run my hands down his shoulders, and imagine the slender, barely adult body beneath his clothes? My right to arrogance dematerialized in light of my willingness to seduce and be seduced by the collie from down the hall.

My hand moved to check the status of his sheath. He felt soft beneath my palm, but not for long. A gentle squeeze and the duration of a few heartbeats was all it took until blood discernably firmed up the organ. Like the games we played and the boundaries we naively dared each other to cross during the primeval-seeming Fall, I kept at it to see just how he would react, expecting an intercession that became less and less likely, until it became clear that we were in free fall. Dustin’s hands went under my clothes. I began to rub his sheath. His kiss grew demanding and assertive. My hips bucked against him, showing that a girl can have needs, too. He unzipped my hoodie and pulled it off my shoulders. I loosened his pants. There was no safety net for our virtue beyond that gesture.

My brother and I left our clothes on the floor before finding ourselves on my bed, naked, with hands on each other’s genitals. I tugged a furry sheath along a firm dog-penis. Dustin showed interest in my clitoris. Our long white and brown fur was all we needed to keep us warm. We found ourselves looking at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, admiring each other’s muzzles. I didn’t want to look down. I didn’t want to discover that my pregnancy was visible. I hoped Dustin wouldn’t inspect my body so thoroughly either. I distracted him with a kiss, then another. When my finger-pads grew slick with pre-cum, and my vulva couldn’t possibly get any more wet, Dustin turned to reach for my nightstand, for the place he knew I hid my share of the condoms.

“Save it,” I whispered. “I only have one left.”

Dustin turned back to look at me with some skepticism. “For what?” he asked, slipping his hand from the drawer and turning back to face me without the little packet of latex.

“For when you really want to tie,” I said, reassuringly giving his erection a stroke.

My brother inhaled and let it out in a huff, either out of disappointment or resignation. “What if I really wanna tie right now?” he said, turning to cast a glance at me.

His eyes were open and clear, his voice assertive and challenging.

My fingers flexed around his penis out of reflex rather than any attempt to pleasure him this time. “I figured we’d save it for some special occasion.”

“You’re going to college, that’s pretty special,” he said. “What are we waiting for? Not a lot else coming up.”

“It’s a weeknight,” I said, fishing for excuses. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Just let me use it. I won’t tie.” Dustin didn’t need to say another word to me about how fearful he’d become of unprotected sex.

“Come on, don’t waste it,” I pleaded, beaming him puppy-dog eyes. It pained me to draw on such drastic measures. Just a few months ago he would have been in me by now.

“I give up,” the male collie said, and abandoned his quest for the contraception, rolling over with the weight of resignation to face the unprotected sex that awaited him. “Don’t blame me if you end up with a puppy.”

My naked brother crawled on top of me and climbed between my legs. My ears flattened as if I were being scolded. My cheeks grew hot and I felt that all too familiar pit in my stomach, and this time not just from the incest I was about to commit. My tongue flapped the words “too late” within my muzzle, but I allowed no breath to give them sound. So close to telling the truth, but not the right time.

I found myself confronted yet again with Dustin’s canine penis stiffly pointing in my direction. I helped the boy collie line his erection up with my vulva, and slip his tip between my labia. I closed my eyes and sighed toward the ceiling. My brother buried his muzzle into my mane and eased his length into me. He exhaled a groan as he usually did when his bare cock smoothly penetrated the aroused warmth of my hole. I ran my hands down his back and felt his muscles tighten. His buttocks flexed, his hips moved, his penis slid hilted within my anatomy.

A moment later he humped away, huffing into my mane. He braced himself just enough to keep most of his weight off of me. Occasionally I’d have to support him as he passed a hand over my breasts, or whatever part of my body he felt like grabbing. As routine sex with my sibling had become, sometimes I still experienced some electric depersonalization, especially in moments I witnessed Dustin repeatedly and rapidly prod his dog-cock so lewdly into my body, and I gazed down my muzzle as my own limbs caress his horny and heated form. My knees clutched his moving frame and I knew I could expect to see those lines of collie ejaculate on my belly soon, but in my state, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy me.

I interrupted Dustin, whispering “here,” as I instructed him to pull out of me. I slipped from underneath him. My vagina felt empty without his cock in it. The collie-dog looked confused at first, but wordlessly followed my lead. It was his turn to find himself on his back. I climbed on top of him, and stroked his member, aiming it toward my slit once more. “I’m not going to dump you,” I whispered, reassuring my sibling and slickly reinserted his pre-cum slick penis into my hole.
Dustin snorted as if he thought it was funny. “So what happens when you're five hundred miles away and I can't sneak into your room anymore? Gonna send me pictures?” He said and bucked, hands holding me onto his body, his erection bottoming out inside my reproductive tract.

I picked up the movements, in charge this time. I tried to laugh. He didn’t. The bed began to creak again. The air between us grew humid with our panting. Collie cock pushed into me again and again and we soon matched the best of our mischief. Dustin avoided eye contact. So did I. If I couldn’t reassure him with words, maybe actions would work instead.

“Sis”, Dustin eventually said, his eager thrusts slowing down, sensible to the risks of unprotected incest. He no doubt felt the beginning of his urge to cum, yet clung to a reasonable aversion toward teenage fatherhood.

I said nothing in return. As if in a trance my body enacted the same movements that had gotten me into this predicament. I denied my brother respite from the warm stimulation of vaginal walls along his sensitive penis. I felt bad for him as I played on the razor’s edge of self-interest and the justification that getting Dustin to cum in me would be for his own benefit. I trained him well, convinced him of the importance of my aspirations. He was so respectful. It almost hurt to stay the course and admit his knot into my vagina against his wishes.

“Alex,” he said a few mutually pleasurable thrusts later. He spoke louder than before in an attempt to come across as stern, exercising a position of masculine power. His movements stopped, but mine continued, a slow restrained cycle allowing his length to appreciate everything I had to offer.

Dustin was as hard as ever. I felt his knot getting pretty big. With him on his back, there was nowhere for him to go. My body pinned him down. I gave him no indications of intending to play safe. I knew him well enough to know this was too hot for him to ever lose his erection. My vulva ground on sheath, making his fur wet. I felt the very base of his cock slipping back and forth between my labia.

“What are you doing?” He asked, an increasing expression of confusion on his features. Or was it frustration? Consistency wasn’t among either of our virtues. He came in me so often; at times I assumed he wanted the consequences of unprotected sex. He just wanted to be another one of the good-ole-boys, a family out of high school, a modular home in the hills, a job in the mines. He wanted this. I didn’t.

“Alex I’m gonna If you keep doing this. I’m close.” He said, the girth of his knot confirming the veracity of his words. At this point it was about as big as I’ve ever felt it. Had I not already known I was carrying his child, I would have felt the same fear. Maybe I was sadistic, torturing him, keeping vital intimation from him, lying with silence. The words burned on my tongue. Perhaps he already knew.

I reached out and caressed his face. “It’s okay. It’s a safe day.” I said, speaking the truth. With a collie fetus in my uterus, there was no risk left to be had. A flirtatious flourish to my movements invited him to copulate like the dogs we were.

“Seems to be a lot of safe days recently. It’s a safe month, huh? Safe year?” He asked, clearly incredulous. I didn’t want to look him in the eye after he said that.
His statement cut me like a knife, the weight of its truth sinking into my chest and flooding me with well-earned shame. How many times had I reassured my brother this was safe? I clearly was a poor judge of my own fertility. Had I wanted this result? Or was I just terrible in every capacity? At this point my brother was tying with me. His knot swelled in my vagina. Maybe, if I was willing to experience a bit of pain, I could have pulled off. The discomfort would not have changed a thing.
“You’re a fucking crazy bitch, Alex, you know that right?” my brother said with a tone of resigned frustration and bucked up into me. From what that second onward, he gave in. He didn’t hold back. His hands reaffirmed their grasp on my nude body and his hips resumed the gyrations, pushing his penis into me at a rate that accelerated my participation in this ill-advised endeavor. We were fucking together again. Cock in vagina, fur to fur, sheath to vulva. Dustin was over giving me opportunities to play it safe and embrace the destiny I’d smithed for myself, the fate reaffirmed by the Ivy League acceptance letter on my desk. Now my brother seemed dead set on repeating the mistake that trapped so many of us in the mountains.

A moment later, and it became clear his knot was fully engorged within me. We were firmly linked by the genitals, practicing the canine habit that brought us and all our ancestors into the world. My vaginal muscles contracted around that form. There was no hope or need for withdrawal. I intended on accepting whatever sperm my brother had ready for me. It didn’t matter. Not like a single swimmer in his seminal vesicles had a chance within my womb. This wouldn’t end until Dustin spilled his seed. The bed creaked its usual song, the familiar squeak of 1970s furniture complaining about the weight of two rough collies in midst of inbred coitus.
“Lair,” Dustin huffed. His hand reached up my torso, palms covering my bare breast. His other moved from my hip to my tummy. His thumb drew a crescent around my navel, as if wordlessly calling his shot, predicting the eventual bump on my tummy to come from my risk taking. “I guess we’re fuckin’ doing this? Huh?” He looked up at me as if in a last-ditch attempt to discern my capacity for rational decision making. My gaze averted from his expression of judgement.

I suppose my brother just needed to tease me, to get me to voice perversions he felt too. This is was a power game, yet another move in a tactical bout we played for months. I lifted my body more than before, feeling the pull from within, and in doing show showed him without words what I wanted.

He mumbled a bit, gaze fixed on me. Was there resentment in his glance? In retrospect, he must have been frustrated beyond words. I am ashamed to this day of how inconsistent I was. Some days I lectured him about the importance of safe sex, denied sex for lack of condoms, scolded him for finishing inside me. Some days were like this. Too many days were like this. Can I restate, too many days went like this.

“Fuck, Alex,” he said disappointed, or at least performing disappointment. He bucked up into my vagina, linked, enough space and friction existed to lead to climax, but little else. My sibling decided he wanted to enjoy my decision to tie in full aroused male frenzy. He wanted me there and every successive motion showed it. This sex was no longer about my pleasure at all. It was all his. “Better think of names, damnit” he huffed resigned to the inevitable, to the sincere possibility that he was breeding a girl, doing what so many others our age did. His right hand moved an inch over to my belly and his thumb rubbed my pubic fur, drawing a circle south of my naval as if calling his shot. There was no patch of fur on my body I was more self-conscious of and the touch made me feel so raw and exposed.

Dustin held me down when he started to cum, fingers sunk into my fur, claws into my flesh. The familiar grip arrested our movements, silencing my creaking bed, crystallizing the form of our intercourse, leaving us nude in this lewd position. I could see his jaw quiver, able only to voice a guttural grunt, lips silently mouthing something profane. His eyes quivered shut. Mine remained open, pupils directed at the spectacle below me, observant out of my own perversion for the mannerisms of masculine reproductive urge. My brother began to ejaculate, pushing his penis into me as deep as his sheath would allow.
Hyperaware of every twitch, throb, and pulse, I experienced my Dustin in his vulnerable moment, contemplating the perverse thoughts that must have been going through his mind, enraptured by the ones circulating mine. Collie semen palpably spurted into the cervical carnival and fallopian politics of my organs. Glistening essences deprived of luster by the corporeal darkness within my body blended within what little room existed between our genitals. A dense cloud of vivacious gametes suspended in viscous bodily fluid proliferated within unseen anatomy. A whole encyclopedia of our family’s genetic history inhabited the cells my brother put inside me. Iterations of the alleles shaping us, determining us, traumatizing us, attracting us to one another repeated within the countless population spinning suspended in the lightless ether, and within the fetus implanted in my uterine wall.

I gasped, leaning forward, accepting what I had willed about with confidence. Dustin tugged at my body, restraining and directing my flesh and skeleton in order to make the most of my vagina’s qualities, making a mess of my internal skin. As always, his thrusts began to lose their intensity. Seconds later, he was finished. It was done. Dustin’s contribution to reproduction never really took that long. It was up to his knot now. Dustin relaxed into the bedsheet, perhaps accepting his fate. I couldn’t bear looking him and face the judgement his features wordlessly communicated.

Instead, I sent my hand between our bodies, toward the source of highly erotic sensation within my vagina. My fingers disappeared within our damp pubic fur, where a soaked sheath tickled my bare slit of intimate skin. I found the very base of Dustin’s cock, the shaft behind his knot, and followed it to where it vanished between my labia. A fingertip caressed his skin and mine, picking up the scents of canine lovemaking emanating from the ample fluids saturating our sex organs. I located my clitoris in the tight space and tangle of moist fur. I began to rub myself, announcing the pleasure I got from the action with a soft moan. My hips began to move again, this time uninhibited by my sibling’s direction. It was up to me now.

My brother’s knot was wedged in the perfect place inside me. I intended to use it. My restrained back and forth gyrations rubbed my g-spot against that internal firmness. With the eager rubs I gave my clitoris, I felt some sensations one could clearly call good. As sensitive as he must have been post-orgasm, he never seemed to mind. My hips moved back and forward, restricted in motion to just a few inches. It was enough. The bare knot inside me rested exactly where it needed to be. A little push and pull is all it took to stimulate internal nerve endings. With semen as lubricant and sensuous grinding as my technique, I repeatedly pushed my siblings knot into the correct vaginal wall. Dustin watched me, observing me at my most obscene, no longer the innocent straight-A tomboy, now just an overeager girl desperate to feel firm flesh in her vagina as if indifferent to the consequences. My brother didn’t say a word as I pleasured myself on his genitalia. It didn’t take too long, four-five minutes tops and I buckled forward, pelvic floor muscles contracted in endorphin releasing twitches. In the dim light, my brother witnessed me in full vulgarity, shuddering, grunting, and otherwise demonstrating how his biological sister got off.

I collapsed forward into my sibling’s warmth in the aftermath of consanguineous sex. My face pressed into his mane. His muzzle pointed upward, he stared at the ceiling of my room, thoughts as nebulous to me as ever. “You always get what you want,” he said, softly, matter-of-factly, devoid of all accusation and anger.
I panted, taking in his scents, smelling also the perverse aromas I assisted in creating, and flinched. I clung to him, but his hands didn’t follow his usual amorous caress. As the rational part of my brain began to reboot, my stomach churned with the sensation of disgust normal people feel at the thought of incest, an emotion I knew all too well from the early days of our intimate relationship. My disgust stemmed from realizing that my feelings of shame and guilt were due to remorse over my own failure, as much as from the taboo itself. I had done this so often that I was now only selfishly concerned about the consequences, my reputation, my future, the immanent discovery of my pregnancy. Without a shred of empathy, I just forced him to knot and cum in me, indifferent to his future plans, his shame, his guilt, and his anxieties.

Was he really upset at me? I thought he loved cumming in me? Did I truly betray his trust? I listened for any other indication of what went through his mind, a scolding, anything. I only heard the rush of wind I’m through the twigs on the other side of the windowpane. I waited longer, my ears perked up just to hear a sigh or a deep breath of resignation, but I only heard the tick of the baseboard heaters when the furnace turned on. I squeezed my brother’s arm. flexed vaginal muscles around his knot, hoping to extract some verbal, or at least emotional response from my sibling. The refrigerator hummed downstairs, an indifferent drone to the perversion concluding in my bedroom.

Then I heard it, my brother started to snore. Never have I ever felt so consoled by that sound. I had just drained him of his seed, made him a father, for all he knew, and he just dozed off. How many sleepless nights had I fret away over having unprotected sex with Dustin? He knots me and cums and he’s asleep in minutes of his last spurt. A soft breathless snort of mild amusement blew through my nostrils. Perhaps I was misinterpreting the situation, but the ease of my sibling’s restfulness quieted my mind. At least I could center myself and grow aware of the nocturnal peacefulness of my childhood home. I was left in yet another absurd predicament, I was tied to a sleeping man.

Dustin’s knot slipped free about twenty minutes later with an audible sound that onomatopoeia couldn’t do justice to. My brother partially woke, stirring a bit and giving an irritated grunt, but dozing off again quickly thereafter. I had my freedom back, feeling the erotic albeit sloppy genital eviction along with the undeniable physical pleasure that came from having my vagina to myself again. I carefully pulled off, rolling to Dustin’s side and extending my limbs to great relief, legs trembling as I stretched.

I felt Dustin’s sperm ooze from my labia, cascading down my right butt cheek in a slow but predicable course onto my bedsheets. The chain of lights I’d hung in my bedroom two Christmases ago, and kept up out of a fondness for their surreal light, bathed us in their feint cool glow. Some of the lights reflected in the slick sheen coating my brother’s penis. I watched his knot slowly, almost imperceptibly shrink until it slipped back into his sheath. Only his tip poked out, surrounded in moist sheath-fur, dripping a clear fluid from his pee-slit.

I looked down at my body, and caressed my belly. Damn it… this bump is starting to get noticeable, I thought to myself. It’s not just my winter coat anymore, is it? How much longer before he noticed? I couldn’t hide this forever—not from him, not from myself. I’d tell him. Not tonight, but soon. Tomorrow, I resolved, putting it off a convenient amount of time yet aware of my own lack of willpower to see it through. I’d come up with yet another excuse to put it off further, but I would tell him, soon. I was going to be a mom, fuck, I couldn’t believe it. Had I just made a decision to keep it? I hope I’m ready for this, I thought, feeling as though this were my last moment of quiet before a storm of shame, pain, and sacrifice. I sighed. At least my intuition felt like progress. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, taking in the scents of sperm and inbreeding. Why did I let him cum in me all those times? Which time knocked me up? I shook my head, recalling all the moments I let him stay inside me, chasing closeness while trying not to think about the consequences. One thrust, one surrender, one lie, one bit-tongue too many can change one’s fate, and I was guilty of a surprisingly high number of mistakes. I was ready to make a thousand more mistakes if it meant we could be this close.