Sedrick avails himself to the living room floor for his push-up exercises.

Psyche watches from atop the staircase landing, nostrils flaring, knowing the bunny didn't go home last night. She wonders if she's practically moving in, or whether this is just her brother's phase, or ... some other part of her own 'conditioning'. She pleaded with her parents not to go on their trip overseas again, her ears folding at being left alone. In no small part to her own guilty desire to delve further into her new lusts ..

Sedrick seems oblivious to you for now. Cynthia's probably sacked out in the guest room. He's busy in the middle of an exercise routine. His black fur glistening in a brilliant muscular landscape shaping his back, his triceps very pronounced as they bear most of the task of heaving his considerable heft off of the floor and lowering it back down again, until his wet nose pad is only an inch off of the carpet, and each push is accompanied by a deep, rumbly huff. That's a thin gleam of sweat on his hide, channeled down the very pronounced valley of his spine, evaporating and carrying those wickedly alluring male scents pouring into the air of the living room.

Psyche watches, captivated, realizing that she's getting wet again. She earfolds a little, steeling herself against the temptation and slinks back to her room, panting, dressing haphazardly, but quickly ... subconsciously putting on some very, very skimpy articles. V thong, ruffled miniskirt, tee-shirt with 'BITCH!' printed in large letters over the front, but tucked back and under over the top to squeeze her breasts and expose her tummy. She huffs a little, not even bothering with footwear, grabbing her purse, money, -condoms- definitely condoms this time, and then ... a bit more money. She contemplates cleaning off the musty odor of her heat for a bit, then eardips, deciding a breath of fresh air can't come too soon, and heads down the stairs, bee-lining for the front door.

Sedrick isn't on the floor when you come down the stairs. Instead, as you round the corner to head right for the front door, you practically collide right into him. He seems momentarily surprised, and god, he's as solid as a wall standing there, and stopping in mid-stride, his HUGE hands coming to your shoulders to hold you steady and prevent you from stumbling backward and falling. The resulting surprise and stumble causes him to press your back to the wall next to the staircase in a further effort to steady us both. "Whoa! Where are-" he's about to ask, taking a deep breath suddenly, a slow, and obvious savoring of your still-fertile stink, making his eyes narrow and his tongue to lance over his strong jaws. He looks you in the eye, "Mmmmm damn.. you look so nice, sis. Got a date?" he asks, not bothering to step back and give you room. At LEAST he's wearing underwear.. even if it's all he's wearing, the tight blue brief doing little to hide his brotherly endowments.

Psyche startles, surprising herself at how frightened that collision makes her, her heart skipping a beat, her scent intensifying as if on cue, even if there's firmly implanted dogpuppies already clinging to her uterine lining. She still -feels- in heat, and that means she might still catch more. She swallows a little, slupping a gentle kiss at you, dismissively, looking up as she murmurs, "Thanks ... no, not yet, am thinking about heading down to ... to ... China town." She growls a little, ears folding, "Girl's night out, since there's no curfew, y'know?" She whispers the last bit, hopefully, almost pleadingly,
feeling her nerves and muscles all trying to move and flow and entice. She knows she doesn't have to with you, or thinks she doesn't anyways

Sedrick mmmmmms and watches your mannerisms more than he hears your words, as if your body will let him know about your true measure of communication than what's being forced out of your mouth right now. He dips his muzzle, bumping his broad snout beneath your chin and lifting your jaw upward, exposing your throat to him, and letting you feel the warm flow of breath on your thin layer of fur. He releases a low, rumbling growl. Fuck.. it doesn't help that you can smell trace scents of Cynthia all over him. "Mmmmmmm, you smell like you need far more than girls, right now.." he comments, and you can feel a warm palm sliding down your arm and around the exposed fur of your waist, over the small of your back, the prelude to a more erotic embrace. "Can it wait and hour or two?" he asks, and you just know what he means. The asshole! The audacious FUCK!

Psyche moans softly, closing her eyes, her forepaws lifting to create a warm forearm barrier between the two canids, her swallows reverberating against your tongue as she earpins, panting, "Not ... not a l'lesbian ... not anymore ... " she whines, twisting her face around to slup at your cheek, nostrils pinching a little, "D'don't ... don't want to scare off any nice guys with my b'brother's scent ... " she manages to whisper, more blurting than arguing, ears back as she whines, feeling you touch her, her loins already threatening to make a mess of her thong as she groans, "Ohgods, ohgods, Sedrick ... " she tenses again, "If I stay, if I ... stay, I won't be able to get out ... I need to know I'm ... I'm still free, I need to know there's more than ... than you, than Cynthia and I wrapped around your knot ... pleading, pleading for you to dominate us .

Sedrick swipes his tongue along your neck, tasting your heat as much as smelling it and letting it intoxicate his mind. He just rumbles deeply at the sweet scent from his own sister, the burning in his loins getting harder to ignore, and the sound of his erection spilling slightly from his sheath, the fluffy pouch peeling back a little more inside the cloth barrier of his underwear, that big, strong dick that's like nothing you've ever felt.. that belongs to your own _brother_. He reaches up with a paw, holding your jaw gently with his fingers and turning his head to look at your face. He's not avoiding, not dodging your glances, his cool, unashamed confidence just unavoidably intimidating and overpowering. His eyes mirthful, needy, and his lips brushing yours as he murmurs, "Why do you fight this like it's a bad thing?" he asks. It's a very simple question, one that almost answers itself in pointing out the stark contrast between your intellect and your body's aching need. His tongue swipes your lips, catching your teeth, his other palm holding your hip, dimpling your butt through your skirt. With one more paw moving down to your hips, he could easily pick you up.

Psyche shivers, answering, answering softly before the kiss, before she's silenced, the stupid, ingrained societal reason for doing anything that she doesn't like doing ... "Its, its wrong, its ... oh ... " she closes her eyes, lapping at your mouth, kissing, shivering, her arms trembling, but also tensing as her tummy presses against your sheath, and that which peeks above your underwear by now, flinching, knowing she may have to change before she makes her next attempt out the door, her mind racing now over all the other males in the world, all out there ... How does she know -he's- the best? How -can- she if she doesn't sample a few? She huffs again, shivering, starting to shake her head softly, "I ... I have to go, I ... I'll be back, I promise. I'll even come and -fuck- you at your demand if you want me to when ... when I get back." She tenses a little, her napeflaring, now wondering if she'll even be able to come back, but she swallows, ears folding back, "I ... I'll trust you.

Sedrick isn't going to rape his own sister.. even if he's driven.. horny, and seemingly insatiable. He kisses back, tongues caressing in a series of canine laps and licks that stroke their surfaces against each other, into parted jaws, over sharp canine teeth, deep wirrrs caught in his throat. He mmms as you speak to him and exercise exemplary will power. He gives a warm hiss through his teeth as he fondles your bottom through your skirt, and then you feel him pull back, drawing back one, two, three steps, depriving you of his warmth, the intensity of his scents, the heat of his body and the pheromones that are permeating your senses. He just stretches, pushing his hands up over his head in a languid push, the very visible thick, pointed, beet-red tip of his distinctly canine penis protruding through the waistband of his underwear in an effort to reach his bellybutton. "Trust me to do what?"

Psyche stammers for a moment, her eyes on that puppymaker's hint, ears flat against her scalp as she swallows, aware how wet she is, how dry her mouth is, then looking up at you, "I ... I'll trust you to decide what's ... -right- for me, when I get back." She trembles, indeed, having a terrifyingly strong will. She -is- your sister after all, but she's playing from a distinctly disadvantaged field, and her conditioning's already started. She smiles, after a moment, admiring everything about you, physique, intelligence ... power ... that she realizes, that last, is an aphrodisiac for her as well. Perhaps the last straw between her and Cynthia, was that lack of power the bunny had over her brother ... making them companions of a new sort. She wags a little, getting her breath, and makes a few padding steps toward the front door, not risking hesitating now, but going out and heading for her car. After a few minutes, the T-bird's engine fades down the street and she's gone.

Sedrick's libido is saved when Cynthia wakes up minutes later, and pads into the kitchen. She meets him in the middle of the room, and they greet each other as they usually do by now, a way that animals do when there's that deep understand that doesn't need words to validate it, she offers her body by wrapping her arms around his neck, and they kiss, his palms roaming over her smooth, white furred backside, no sense in being modest without the presence of adults in the house. He feels what you used to feel on her, her lips, her tongue, her sweet tits pressing against his broad chest, his palms taking possessive, warm squeezes of her hindquarters, replacing the more delicate, feminine caress that once was his sister's sole territory. The teenage bunny now turns, lifts, and offers her vagina to Sedrick in the matter-of-fact manner in which other people say "hello" and "good morning", taking him in right there at the dining room table.

Psyche can picture the whole ordeal in her head, and drives faster, barely a hair shy of recklessness, her paw already down into that thong as she passes through the city, up broad avenues, oblivious to the sights and sounds of the art-craft fairs and political students orating about socialistic or libertarian points of view. She passes through campus, realizing, at a stop sign, that she hasn't attended any of her classes in a week. She smiles at a cute dalmation, even licking her teeth at him salaciously, but the light turns green and she's headed closer and closer to the dock district, the strange smells and sights she used to enjoy with Cynthia when they were feeling frolicsome together ... Chinatown, land of rats and chow dogs, foxes trying to pass themselves off as nine-tails and slender, delicate dragons, tigers and pandas. She parks in the structure just a block away from the business portion of the sub-city and walks the rest of the way, slowing when she finds herself turning down darker alleys and towards businesses only the locals, and some of the underground use and know about. Rats become thicker than thieves here, some of them much, much larger than the little Cambodian mice and Sumatran rats she shares her classes with.

Sedrick knows you're making quite the impression in that area of town. There are no nightclubs, no dance halls, or social events for a woman dressed like yourself, other than perhaps the sultry ache of a bitch that seeks to fan her scent under the nose of strangers, total strangers, red, piercing eyes of larger rats becoming visible in a few dark corners and alleyways that lead off into near blinding darkness for eyes like yours that are evolved for daylight. The pheromones in your wake draw a lot of attention, the noses of powerful rats, ceasing their meditations, their conversations, and rising to investigate, all men of questionable appearance, attire.. men of great risk should you let them near you, men with fleas, men with devious intentions, selfish desires, and animalistic urges amplified in coerciveness by keenly intelligent minds. Filthy rats. Groomed rats. Rats with diseases. Rats with addictions. The raw carelessness of you venturing isn't lost on them, as you notice purposeful footsteps behind you

Psyche napeflares a little, her mane lifting a touch, glancing over her shoulder, just briefly. Shadows, and presences, but she steps faster then, realizing she hasn't been counting the streets, nor the turns. The scents of the alleyway are cloying, but nearly drowned out by the massive numbers of chicken being cooked at a nearby food packing plant. She tilts her head forward again, swallowing, her tail lifting, despite the danger, which she attributes to walking faster. Also, not having any footwear, though dangerous in a place like this, at least doesn't hinder her on the cobblestone as she tries to quicken her pace further. She licks her nose faster, Cynthia moaning softly, wordlessly as your knot takes its shape, its form inside her, her mind, her body wholly given to breeding with her girlfriend's brother, milking a little more. Psyche's heat, Psyche's arousal seems to be peaking even as terror floods her nerves, fills her veins with ice water, her body releasing in sexual tension, ova ..

Sedrick knows that even as your footsteps increase in pace, the sounds around you become more suspicious, every little one heard being translated into some kind of worst-case scenario. Some agile beast stalking you from above, from the rooftops, then a tingling sense that someone's behind you, the sensation that eyes are viewing you from all directions. The fear isn't impractical, but the reasoning of your mind pleads, "If you're so afraid, why'd you come here?" The light ahead seems to offer a break in the alleyway just around the corner, leading into a safer, open surface street. But it's deceptive.. it's not the light of a streetlight, but of a simple bright lamp that only lights the entrance way to another twisted, even more narrow alleyway. Your sudden movements almost seems to startle someone, a territorial HISS making your fur stand on end suddenly and making your womb jump and flutter, while the wholly unattractive, beastly face of an enormous rat with blood-red eyes seems to be calling out a territorial warning to an intruder. The rat pauses, breathing the air through his mouth, taking in your scents, the flavors you put off into the air, your attire.. He's scruffy.. magnificently ugly, wearing nothing but jeans.. any instinct to run is met headlong with the realization that you're surrounded. Rats behind you. Rats on the rooftops above you.. god, they're huge.

Psyche pantpants, her body flush, wired now, survival instinct flattening her ears as she swallows, but doesn't -dare- bare her teeth, despite the urge to do so. She whispers, "P'please ... I .. I'm lost, I was just trying to ... to find a b'bar, sir." Her glances furtive now, over her shoulder, then over the other, wondering if, before she dies, they'll fight over her like the savages they seem to be. How, how can they live like this?! How can there be so many, and so ... so big?! She tries to meet the ugly one's visage, defiant, or at least, brave enough to make eye contact ... well, with his one good eye, but swallows, glancing down after a moment. "I ... if its, its alright, I'll just go the way I c'came." She says, starting to turn around, hoping the sea of rodentine masculinity will just part for her, even as she realizes she's nearly peeing herself ... except its not urine that coats the slippery insides of her thong. It hasn't been since fingering herself at the stoplight..

Sedrick knows you've intruded on their territory, and they're not ready to just let this sweet, nervous bitch in heat go the way she came in, as if she could find her way out of his maze of alleys. If the one that was in front of you was huge, the one that's right IN YOUR FACE as you turn around is truly astounding, his fur standing up in all directions, his scent having an oddly exotic quality to it, but definitely male, his facing having an almost "lazy" expression to it.. fierce.. but with the confidence to not need to posture it in exaggerated ways. THIS is the dominant rat.. there's no fighting necessary. They're not going to stand in his way. His sharp fore-teeth are right in front of your face as you try to turn and walk, blocked by this imposing man with a chewn-off ear and a scar that looks frightening close to one blood-red eye. He makes an obvious sign of taking a deep, nose-twitching, long whiff of your body's scents.. oh yes, you can tell what he's smelling.. "It is all right," with a harsh, husky voice, putting a hand RIGHT on your lower belly, against your skirt, feeling the BURNING fertility boiling away in the pit of your belly, and walking backward, backing you into the alley, out of the cone of light emmitted by the lamp overhead. Shrouded in darkness, you hear his voice, "Just not right now."

Psyche startles, as she nearly collides with the giant, ears folding tight to her scalp, and she does growl for a brief second before giving a frightened yip?! and a whine, "S'sorry!" backing away at his touch, his behest, her tail wagging behind her, "What ... what are, are you going to do with m'me?" She whispers, eyes going to tunnel vision for a moment as she focuses on that foreign muzzle, those bright eyes, whiskers, the power of this beast, her nostrils flaring, taking in more than just the chicken now, the scents of decay and mysticism, but -his- scents, not dog, not rabbit, but ... something else, something new. Her nipples all alight with a fierce hardness that makes her twisted t-shirt arrangement almost uncomfortable, her body trembling, but responding again, not -quite- in the same way as it does with you, but with just as much promise and fertility, even perhaps a touch more as it tries to compensate for the difference. She smiles sheepishly, "D'don't see many girls like me around h'here?

All the scents of the alleyway mingle together, the myriad scents of male rats, young and old, large and sorta-large, brimming with exotic masculinity, in the filth of this alley. As your eyes grow accustomed to the dim light, you can make out the big rat's basic shape, dim light reflecting off his features, his glinting teeth, piercing eyes, and naked tail. "Nothing you didn't leave your house looking for," he says, to the sounds of chittering bemusement to the shadowed figures around you, and behind you. Behind? Yes, of course.. right after you get out your question, the meager attempt at conversation, the figures behind you close their hands around your arms from behind, two of them of intense and deceptive strength taking hold of your limbs and almost lifting you CLEAR off the ground, denying your feet traction for even the most desperate struggle. With a cool, calculated precision backed up by immense strength, the flanking rats turn you and push your chest against a pile of musty old laundry, forcing your knees to bend, your feet to touch the ground, and your ass to hike high as you struggle for traction against the cobblestone street. They're hissing in your ear, speaking a foreign tongue and making exotic noises you can't begin to decipher.. not just foreign, but alien, as alien as another species. God, are they going to take turns!? "From time to time," the large rat directly behind you replies to your query, belatedly.

Psyche pants faster, feeling almost sick to her stomach, only that arousal keeps it from becoming nausea, flush after flush thrumming through her body like the essences of some queen bee on her nuptial flight, hormones, endorphins flooding her mind, her loins. She gasps at the chittering, a split second before she's grasped, lifted, her claws out, but blunt, doggy claws filed for decals and painting, not for fighting - and too far from flesh nor fur to make a decent struggle anyways. Despite that, she arches her back, kicking once or twice once airborne, muzzle rumbling in a snarl that'd terrify most captors, were they less confident. Were they less numerous. She pantpants, spitting at the laundry pile, getting her nose clear of it to catch her breath as she barks, barely sentient, just belting out a cacophonous series of furious warnings, loud, obnoxiously echoing off the dark alleyway walls, tail twisting, her thong cupping the ripe peach of her sex as a dark, eager target, her only protection!

Your purse skitters off across the alley floor in your peripheral vision, partly open, and oddly ignored by the men present. The several condom packages you had within spill onto the ground, nestled neatly in their packages, unopened, unused, ignored.. the ultimate chink in the armor of all precaution, precaution not used. The grip on your arms is like a vice, the chitters growing louder as your barking rings out through the alley, and it all seems useless. No one's going to come to your aid, not here.. the residents just don't care. The big rat hooks his thumb into the hem of your skirt and YANKS it up over the swell of your thick, beautiful ass, his other hand reaching in, prying your thong out of your butt crack and peeling it aside, his breath huffing out over your sex in a bestial scenting, a deep breath, a hisssss, "Nnnnmmmm," he says, rising, and immediately making you aware of the pointed tip of thick, rat dick sawing up and down your wet, exposed pussy. It's got a glans, but it's pointed, the throat of it velvety and hot, and there's the bump of a pair of balls, a scrotum unbelievably huge and frighteningly fertile. The big rat hisses, digging his claws into the flesh of your ass and grasping tightly, "She's in heat.. her fertility burns," he chitters, and the other rats hiss in carnal, rancorous delight through the alley, on the rooftops, from windows.

Psyche stifles her barking at the laughter after a moment, flinching hard, flinching again as her skirt's hefted, and her sluttishly displayed yoni is exposed to the vapors, the hot air, growling giving way to feral whining, snarling, "Don't you, d'don't you DARE!!" as if she had any rights, any say, wriggling against those nimble, deceptively strong hands, eyes watering, tears forming, running freely down her cheek and over her muzzle, snuffles of saltiness coming up her nose in painful bursts as she sees those condoms. Not only protection not used, but tacit implication of what she -was- looking for, in a sense. She groans at the touch, the feel, her petals closing around that shaft as it nestles against her lengthwise, her clit starting to beat in thudding, deafening blood roar in her ears as she tries not to cum, not to give them that, "My ... my car, you can have my c'car!" she blurts out, then hears the mention, the mention of her heat, groaning at the susurrus of the collective's delight!

Sedrick supposes what is worse now, is that your situation is slowly becoming something of an occasion. Not just male rats around you now, but glimpses of females, some young, some old, too old to breed any longer, emerging. Many of them removing clothing. The chittering voice of one of your burly captors replies to your offering of your car with a snarky, "Yes, yes, we know we can," hammering home the futility of negotiation, once they have their mind on what they want. One of the elderly females starts to light incense, the exotic scent wafting through the air like a drug, sinking into your skin like a warmth, trembles running down your spine, feeling like bucket of molten lead poured down your back and pooling in your womb, ovaries suddenly tingling, then burning. These rats might have fleas, or burning disease, or- All thoughts cut off as the slicing penetration of that dominant, huge rat behind you sinks in and spreads you wide, the pointed glans jolting the barrier to your womb as a pair of enormous, near-furless balls slaps the backs of your thighs. The big brute hisses over your ears, and you can feel his weight, and his heat, as he calls out exclamations of pleasure in an exotic language.

Psyche whimpers almost ceaselessly, barely aware of the changes around her at first, then ... slupping her nose to keep the salty sting of her tears out, she startles, moaning when she realizes that something, something more than just a rape seems to be going on. A ... a consecration, and at the scent of the incense, she shudders hard, wanting to fight, only, only parts of her relax, just a little, but enough that the new sensation is as distinct to the moment before as night is to day. She trembles, dilating like she did for you, her brother, trembling at the touch, the shove, the spike of alien pleasure running right down her canal, her flesh holding a beat, another, then gripping with all the pleasure of her earlier matings, slurching wet sounds as she jostles her hips, feeling him thin, long, deep in her loins, aching now, feeling those, those -have- to be his thighs?! They can't be testicles! Its impossible! She cums though, releasing, gasping with a little jerk of her head, a soft, desperate sound she can't help, angry at herself on one level for showing any pleasure at all as her belly burns, her ears sink back lower against her nape, her moan of "C'car ... heat ... ohno, ohplease, don't, I ... I have p'puppies ... I already h'have ... " part of her realizing if she's bred, she can hardly abort what they give her ... not now. She tenses again, part of her -wanting- this, wanting to understand, straining impossibly to decipher the foreign tongue she never studied ..."

The big rat feels your climax, the squeezing of your loins, the convulsions, trying to push out his long dick as it wedges itself into the gulping heat of your cervix, swallowing greedily the runny streaks of ejaculate that drain into your belly already. Heightened sensitivity makes the drug that much more intense, the aroma pleasing, slowly shutting off portions of your intellect. The rat is fucking now. Starting off with slow thrusts, and then soon mating full, his hindquarters bucking in rapid, shallow strokes, rapidly stimulating the outer folds, beating your lower belly with those ungodly testicles, flopping and swinging like wrecking balls. The rapid pace jostles your womb fiercely, almost rapid enough to be a violent vibration, intensifying the aching tingle, the burning sensation inflaming your womb and ovaries, causing profuse ovulation through every pulse of your climax. The big rat SNAPS at an impatient companion, causing an alien skreeeech and the warm spray of blood, some landing on your nape from the big rat's jaws as he snarls at the others. As you complain, the old, wise face of an elder female rat reaches to stroke your jaws, your ears, looking into your eyes with a pleasant knowing.. "Your puppies will be overcome," she coos in a motherly tone. What does THAT mean!? "Feel honored," she whispers in your ear.

Psyche yips sharply, nostrils clutching the new salty, copper tang of the interloper, -rightfully- dealt with. Rightfully?! She moans, her hips moving slightly now, of their own accord, grinding into the laundry, then back up into that rat's jack-hammering, her teeth jarred for a moment before she manages to open her muzzle, gasping, panting for breath, for pleasure, her struggling arms slack in her captor's vice grip, but she doesn't care, the fucking important, the feel of him, important, his strength, his -will- washing through her, her highly educated, sentient mind, already porous from Sedrick's work, opening up to the sensations, the changes in her flesh, her nostrils taking more of the incense, gulping, swallowing it even as she realizes her whines are much, much changed now, only culminating in pleasant sounds as she climaxes hard, then eagerly, wanting him, the old rattess's words the only thing keeping her from submitting entirely yet, terrifying her, "H'honorreedd!?" she groans, asking, agreeing, crying softly, "Ohgods, ohyess ... ohfuck, fuck ... " twitching inside all over when the next wash of pleasure makes her release her eggs, carelessly, whorishly to this dominant one ... this one that deserves her, deserves anything he wishes ..

The elder rattess seems to be very affectionate, warmly exuding understanding, consoling, as if she knows.. it's hard to tell, but she could be related to the magnificent brute atop you, a prior mate? A current mate? This culture is beyond your knowledge at the moment, but all around you, the affects of the occasion are taking place. The sounds and smells of rat mating, rat fertility, male and female, mingling with your burning, exotic canine estrus. Yes, those pummelling, oblong orbs have to be his nuts, based on what you can see out of the corner of your eye from another mating pair. Face to face, his thighs spread wide, his huge, virile nuts pounding the ass of the motherly, broad-hipped rattess beneath him. With orgies like this, it's no wonder they breed so well, with balls so huge, urges so virile, seduction.. no.. conquest, so complete.. in a few generations, they'll dominate this city. And you're going to help them. Willingly. As your body gives in, as you can feel the pleasant tight fluttering of your ovaries quivering, quite literally ejaculating streams of fertile ova into your womb, felt as a heated warmth on the big rat's pointed crown, which spears into your uterus, now having elongated slightly, plucking at your cervix with a rapid, melting sensation building in your belly. The old rattess hisses soothingly to you now, and you can feel her palm running below you, spreading over your belly, over your womb, as if she can feel the cocktail of life being prepared within. "You'll be a proud mother," she whispers, ".. you'll have dozens of beautiful rat puppies," she chitters soothingly into your ear, ".. cry out for them."

Psyche yields, surrenders, her heart in her throat, trying to cry words, thoughts, becoming pleasure incarnate, believing every kind, dominating, changing word the old rattess gives her, to pleasure her, to pleasure her mate within, her body aflame now, "Ohgodsohyes, please, give, give them to me, I want them!!" sentience winking on, off again, gulping breaths of the musty air, her senses all flooding with newness, with rebirth, a bitch in heat, in her rightful place, beneath the orgy of her own accidental stumblings, the large rat within her all, her everything, nameless except for species, for primogeniture, for being -first- to touch her, the seduction still writhing within as she laps at the old rattess's wrist, kissing her, not understanding yet, so much, but knowing what she is, what she craves, her teeth, her nipples all aching in sympathetic rhythms, fluttering pleasures as she milks him, spreading, if possible, her thighs wider to let him get a fraction deeper as she cums for the rat in her now, not knowing what god, what demon, what angel she has to praise, to thank for each shuddering impalement of that narrow shaft, that narrow tip skewering her spongy cervix, lodging deep within, each trembling of her tummy relaxing her, only her thighs, her cunt-muscles, her -ovaries- tense, spewing roe, her canid roe for the seed to take over. Few may be compatible, but she compensates, blissfully spawning with her captor ...

The elder rattess takes on a serene beautiful quality before you as you kiss her wrists.. everything takes on a beautiful quality.. even the ugliness of the rats.. like a switch in your mind, now, craving with bizarre, cultured, brutality. "It is the way of nature," she recites to you calmly, kissing you back on your ear, "Give your womb to the strongest.. to the best.. you'll bear our race," she says as calmly as if saying hello. Sedrick who? Cynthia who? You're a queen bitch to this dominant alpha-rat. The elder rat chrrs, and you can feel her fingers tightening on your lower belly softly, as if helping the nearly audible release of eggs from your quivering insides. "Tell him you want them.. beg to bear his beautiful pups and forsake your kind.. beg sweet child," she whispers in your ear, "It'll make his seed more copious.. beg while it blesses you with it," she chitters softly, while the pace of the rat picks up. By now the men who were holding you down are long gone, wrapped up in their own breeding frenzy nearby, but it's clear they're not needed. By now the big alpha-rat's glans is completely encased in your womb, feeling your convulsions, your squeezing, the warm spray of fresh ova that ache for his progeny, to conquer this stray dog with his own kind. When finally, it starts to happen. One thrust, a loud chitter, another thrust, a deep, guttural hiss right over your ears, a drop of drool on your ear, and his pointed glans swells in size, balls, as fat as they are, drawn tightly to his crotch, almost rippling, the ridge of his glans flaring just enough to lock that exotic breeder inside the mouth of your cervix. It's indescribable as the first long, powerful, soothing stream of rat semen ejaculates and spills off your uteran wall, warming you in a pleasant, fluttering sensation to accompany the burning of your ovaries, like a hose trying to put out the fire."

Psyche presses back, learning her lesson, taking it to heart, to her heart of hearts as she cleaves to him, pressing up to rub her arched back against his abdomen, his chest, wanting contact, oils against her knot-tied tee-shirt, feeling him lodged within her, the side-pressure of her thong nestled between the two as she whines, "Breed me, please, ohgods, yes, ohgods it feels, feels so good!" She whines, "You, want you, the strongest, take me, I ... I'll obey, I'll bear, bear them if you give them t'to me!" she shudders, "Let me, please, please let me, ohgods, I don't want, want another dog, I don't want their young, I want yourrrss!!" She shudders, her calls serene, believed, milking that first eruption as she nestles back, her tail twisting lightly against his soft tummy fur as she bears down, lifting up, eyes clenched tight to feel, vision for a moment forsaken in lieu of hearing, of touch, focussing on that core of heat within her that he douses, that he gives to her, that the old rattess makes more erotic, more intense than anything she can remember, her past fogging, nearly losing focus, then fogging again as she whines, whispering, "So good, it feels so gooood, I want it, give, please, I'll bear all I can for you, just give me your rat ... ratlingsss!!" *spasm-spasm* dull, warm, tight milkings taking each burst as she opens her eyes again, watching the rattess, feeling what she's feeling for, that warm place inside where life is forming, where ... where ... something? .... will be overcome! She yields, shivering, each churr, each chitter making her freeze then climax again!"

The old rattess is looking into your eyes as you open them, a warm expression.. she's probably been through this many times herself. There's no telling how many she's bred during her many years. As you beg, her promise is very evident, the big rat's hands curling around to cling to your breasts through your shirt, his teeth scraping your neck, his hissing chitters carrying out in an almost incessant, constant drone, while his hips BUCK violently every so often, stirring the soup of life in the pit of your belly. The old woman can feel the pulse in your belly, the ejaculation of this prized rat lasting for what feels like a beautiful eternity, draining the contents of those powerful, unbelievable nuts, MILLIONS of virile sperm being ejaculated with every long, powerful convulsion of his loins. You eggs are stirred, sperm assaulting many, spawning in your belly, and the big rat keeps pulsing within. Some of it can't help but leak back through the seal of your cervix around his glans, and leak out in a wet pattering sound between your thighs. The old rattess strokes your muzzle in an amazingly tender feat. Around you male rats have started over, many of them, finding new mates, some of them battling one another for dominance.. a few wounds... a few of them fatal.. the dying having to watch their victors displace their semen and add their own to the competition. No one challenges the alpha-rat as he conquers your willing body. The old rattess chrrs, "You'll love them," she says, ".. embrace the future," she states as a matter of fact.. their biological conquest inevitable. The fate of the puppies currently growing within you is hard to contemplate now.. something so dark.. so coldly biological.. they may be born to agony, their first and last role in the world: food to their brothers and sisters, born in the blissful betrayal of their mother. Perversely, it feels so RIGHT in the presence of this beautiful alpha-rat.. bringing a beautiful purity of purpose.

Psyche gasps as her partner seems to submit, not to her, and not to the power of the female before her, but to the necessity of indoctrination of Psyche's will, Psyche's mind, her womb shivering as she stares, almost lovingly, back into the wise one's eyes, her only consolation, subconsciously as that her own genes will at least survive in all the ratlings she bears for these ... these people, these animals, her body yielding, betraying, now commanded by her own conscious choices as she gasps, "I ... I'll love them ... Give me r'ratpuppies, your ratpuppies, please!" begging still, knowing its part of the ritual, knowing it pleases her alpha as she couples now, one of them in all but shape, all but origin, helping them with their cause. Nature, nature wins, her tears now only of sheer pleasure as she whines, trying not to think of those she came here already bearing. A woman's right to choose is absolute ... though twisted, corrupted now as she gasps for air, one paw bracing against the laundry, the other finally daring to reach down to feel, to stroke lightly over those testicles currently servicing her, ears full of the sounds of lust and combat ... nature asserting itself.

The huge rat behind you hunches softly, as your hand roams over those massive balls.. god really are nuts.. soft football like orbs, sperm factories encased in a fleshy, soft skin and thin fur all around that, warmed by your hand, the ripples of his muscles in his groin making them twitch in your hand, even still, almost a minute into his release. His semen is coming out thicker now, more congealed in fat globs, forming a line of blocker-sperm right in behind the sperm that'll breed his new pups. As the warm, thicker blobs ooze out, he leans forward, taking your attention off of the elder rat as his big, whiskered jaws part over yours, and his tongue lances against your teeth, your lips, your tongue, in a hot kiss that caps off this particular mating. The smells of rat semen are in your nose.. rat heat, your own heat, rat fur, rat sweat, rat pheremones, rat blood, all of it warming and appealing to your most base, animal nature. The old woman pushes her mouth to your ear as you kiss your alpha, the father of your future pups, and chrrs whisperingly, "You'll never have to breed with another dog, ever again," she whispers, as if that was a burden, her statement pushing home the world you've discovered.. and embraced.

"Psyche moans, her lust knowing no bounds, but love, sweet love, not just for him, but for their whole race, coursing through her, her future babies, -his- babies given freely, and eagerly. She knows what she is, -female-, and will never forget that, ever again, in the wonderful sense that she's been forced to understand. Her tongue laps at his mouth, whines sweet, soft, not demanding, but pleading softly as she kisses him, feeling those strange curds slowly dolloping up his barrier, to be broken down later, when necessary, or just when the need strikes another rat. She milks hard at that, the plug keeping any more of the precious seed from backwashing as she milks his plug, feeling its weight but not its purpose. She trembles, moaning at the presence of the female, her eyes shining now, shining at the pleasure that last statement gives her, security ... security that's stifling, absolute, and warming everywhere, whiskers teasing her, almost giggling with delight before she kisses him again.

Sedrick is sure that other females will be introduced to this world, and others will venture out to spread it. It's only a matter of time, and these rats are in no hurry, succumbing to their biological needs at every turn. The big alpha rat grinds his pelvis against your ass and backs of your thighs, still throbbing softly in a series of aftershocks. The incense is still burning, almost down to the end, as the elder rat lights more. If your eyes focus, you might notice the alley in greater detail now. The rats at their windows, at their residences, some finished copulating and now eating, some cooking, activity that was shielded from you as an outsider is now wide open.

"Psyche flares her nostrils, inhaling it deeply, knowing its for all of them, not just her, her milking answering his aftershocks, but she holds, pleasured beyond belief, and patient with him, her stomach finally, after two days of being too tight to eat much after her brother's advances, all the moral morass she's been through, thinking much, much too much, finally has the energy to remind her she should eat, her mouth slowly watering, breathing much, much more easily, dizzily, in a mating trance, not -quite- the stupor that her brother would induce, but something else, pleasant, lasting ... he could pull free from her and she wouldn't notice at first, humming with the pleasure of his mating constantly. She glances up around her shoulder to nuzzle, to bury her face into his oily fur, lapping clean a droplet of that other rat's blood affectionately as she stays spread for him, one paw reaching up, around her back, to hug the massive rodent against her, to feel his fur, his warmth pleasantly. "H'home ...?

Appearently, it was an intense mating for him. Perhaps the knowledge of what he's doing has that intensifying affect on him, yet everything these rats do, even to each other, seems intense. Finally, after a time, he rears up and rises. That long.. ohh shit, that's LONG.. dick slides out, wet and firm, slurping loudly in the alley and slinging out to leave your pussy feeling bruised, pleasantly buzzing with afterglow, and somewhat sore. That cock is wicked, red at the tip, almost purple, the skin pulled back, a thin but amazingly hard shaft leading down, slowly growing thicker to the base, and those nuts... fuck. The old rattess kisses your cheek as he pulls out, and the big brutish male reaches down to scoop you up, causing you to flip onto your back, carrying you in his arms. "She'll want to eat," he says to the rattess, as he starts walking home. Your purse, with your condoms, your cell phone, your wallet, money, your identification, left and forgotten, buried under broken pallets from tonight's affairs. The purse vanishes as rats eventually clear out the mess, and the dead, from the alley.

End