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Bottle
If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. This material is Copyright, 1997, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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Bottle
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Naw, Lupe's not 133. She's nineteen, same as me. Old for a wolf, but I've helped. And don't call her my dog; never call a wolf a dog. I don't expect you to believe the story; just hear it out. My mother told me some of my history just before she died. Mom had fallen in love with a hunter; moon going on full, she fell in love pretty often. At least she called it "falling in love" when talking to me. When full came, she got out into the woods and hid. Hunter'd never have had a chance of finding her if a wolf hadn't done it first. So here's ol' wolf howling at her, and here's ol' hunter aiming at howling wolf. Mom had to choose, and she jumped the hunter. The wolf got into the game fast. Lupe's father tore the throat out of my father. Then he covered Mom, who had really been in the mood even before she smelt blood. I've never blamed Lupe for what her father did, though. Mom felt she was real lucky to bring us both into the world alive. Part, it was a later full moon. Anyway, Lupe is my twin sister. Fraternal, like I said. And not a touch of the were in either of us. We grew at our own rates. First I can remember, her half- grown cubs were lookin' after me. Their understanding of 'looking after,' of course. Mom had plowed a furrow around house and barn. One of the first things I learned was to only piss on that furrow; critters would never cross that line. Winter I was five, Mom talked me into wearing clothes -- first pants, then shoes. Warmer that way, but she made me keep them on come summer. Next fall, I started school -- riding Harry 'bout three miles each way. Harry was happy enough to go; it was better than pulling a plow, and horses don't much take to wolves. I took to school, though. Mom had taught me my letters and some words, but that was either in her rough handwriting or in the old books with cramped print she read herself. The first time I saw the big print in the books in school -- and the pictures -- I fell in love. More or less fell in love with Miss Wilson, too. She taught the lower grades. Mom grew much of what we needed on the farm. Strongest woman you ever did see. For years, I would think every woman was stronger than me. Mom got checks in the mail -- rents and old bonds; they paid for what we couldn't grow. Soon I was riding Harry to old man Lauther's store with a list (and sometimes the check) and hauling the purchases back from town. By then, I was helping with Lupe's litters. She could go off to hunt when I was home, and I'd see to the cubs. They'd soon outgrow the need, then outgrow me; and then I'd wait for the next litter. Lupe's last litter'd been gone some time when Mom was shot. Mom crawled to the barn in the full moon, then waited till it set. Strongest woman you ever did see. Took nearly two months to kill her. But we couldn't ask for the doctor. He'd see too much. Rallied some in the first full, but died before the next one. And she wanted to die by then. 'Fore she went, though, she told me part of the past. And she made me practice her signature -- as she got worse, it looked more crabbed and easier to do. When Mom died, Lupe howled for an hour. Then she went out and dug a hole as deep as she could. I pretended Mom was still alive for another day. Then I helped deepen the hole; and Lupe and I dragged Mom to it on the quilt from her bed. We piled dirt on her till she was well hidden. Then I piled rocks on the pile 'til I couldn't carry any more. Then we scooped dirt and manure on top of the rocks. I poured a half a bell jar of gasoline over the grave then. Critters, they all hate the smell of gasoline. Mom had never encouraged visitors, and nobody came 'round to ask why I wasn't in school. Sheepherders, farmers, people in town, each group looked after their own, sorta. But we weren't any of theirs, and they weren't looking for more trouble than they had. I think Miss Wilson would've asked why I wasn't in school, but she'd gone back to the city at the end of the year. Got married, I heard. New teacher wasn't goin' to do anything, and neither was anybody else. Still, I held off riding to town for the longest time. Didn't even empty the mail box till Mom had been in the ground two weeks. Some of the mail in there was ruined, two checks I couldn't even read. One I could read was for more money than I had ever seen on a check, near five thousand dollars from some oil company. I practiced Mom's signature for weeks before I got up nerve to ride into town. Lauther stared at the check for a long time, front and back. "Well," he finally said, "that's a big check. It'll just about pay your bill off." He'd never said anything about a bill before. He had a big sign behind the cash register, "NO CREDIT!" "Bill?" I cried. "Give me that check and it'll pay your bill off, and leave about a hundred over. Otherwise, you can try to cash it elsewhere, but no more purchases until you bring in some cash." He waited until I agreed. I got one axe handle where I'd planned to buy several, five pounds of flour where I'd planned to buy ten, and a box of nails. I got a precise written statement from him of what my purchase cost and what I had left on account. I still had another check in my pants, but I saved it for another day. I was less than half the strength Mom had been. Doubt I'll get any stronger than I am now, and that's still not near her strength. Better with tools, though. I can put a handle on an axe, a hoe, or a hammer, put a steel plowshare on our old plow, use a knife, hold a nail with one hand while I hammer it in with the other. 'Stead of putting the handle on an axe, she'd buy another, so we had several axe heads around the place. And heads for some other tools. As checks came in, I'd get some new tools or new handles. I'd hoe the fields, but it was more than I could handle. And I didn't know enough. Farm kid learns something, and harvest was almost over when Mom got shot. So we sorta made out that year. Lupe did what she could, bringing home some parts of sheep come spring when they were put out to pasture. Plowing and planting were sheer Hell come spring, though. Lupe couldn't help much, and I wasn't strong enough to handle the wooden plow Mom had used. We just about got through 'til harvest. Sometime before harvest, though, I got a bill for taxes on the farm. The last year's taxes hadn't been paid; and if it went a couple of years longer, they'd sell the farm for the taxes. When the large check came, I rode out to see Jennings, whose name was on the bill. His daughter, Sarah, had been a year younger in school with me. She made a fuss over Harry, who she hadn't seen in more than a year. Maybe 'cause of that, maybe just out of kindness, Jennings explained what was up. The check, he called it a royalty check, would cover more than one year's tax. He told me to pay the old bill and put the rest down on the new. If some tax was owed after four years, they could sell the farm to pay it. Even if the whole tax was paid for the time in between, they'd do it. Mom didn't have many friends. Harvest hadn't been half what Mom had brought in, and -- wouldn't you know -- winter that year was awful. I spurted up, too. I took to wearing Mom's clothes, since mine didn't fit. Hers were too big, but too big is easier on you than too small. Sheep, of course, were nowhere around for Lupe to get. She hunted out the small stuff and would share with me. Twin or not, she always treated me like a cub. Rabbits were fine, but I never could take to mice or voles. And Lupe didn't pay that any more mind than you would pay to your kid's taste choices if he was starving. Add to our troubles, roads were snowed in for days at a stretch. Mailman didn't bring any checks, and I wouldn't have been able to get to Lauther's store even if he had. More'n half the furrow Mom had plowed was unreachable. Pissing out in a heavy snowstorm was a miserable experience, anyway. I took to using only a few spots in the lee of the barn. That must have been how the wolf got in. Wasn't one of ours; wasn't even all Wolf. I was in the barn trying to figure out how much hay we had when Harry started to buck in his stall. I went to the door to see if one of Lupe's old cubs was visiting. Harry fussed 'bout Lupe sometimes, but not that bad. This was a total stranger, and he was looking at the barn door like prey was inside. He had the look of dog about him, longish hair and all. Maybe had some coyote in him, though I've only seen pictures of them. Big cuss, though, bigger than Lupe. My axe -- I only had one back then -- was in the kitchen. The barn door didn't latch, no reason for it to. So I stood with a sort of pitchfork with wooden tines in my hand looking out through the crack in the door as the wolf got his courage up. I'd try to block the door; I'd try to get him with the pitchfork. Neither looked awfully likely. The wind was whistling through the crack, too. Wolf didn't need to break in; he only needed to stay around the few hours 'til I froze to death. When the wolf looked over to the side, I followed his glance. There was Lupe, trotting along with a rabbit in her mouth. She'd been in deep snow; you could tell from the stuff frozen to her side and belly. The space between the barn and the house, though, was blown almost clear. Having taken in the wolf and his position, she seemed to be looking for me. "Barn," I said loud enough for her to hear. She turned her attention to the wolf again. She trotted up to him and lowered her forequarters, looking like she wanted to play. Wolf came over. She sprang up and trotted away. She did that two more times before she dropped the rabbit. Wolf gobbled it down before chasing her again. She used to drive off her cubs when they played like she and the wolf were doing now. Finally, she was down on her forequarters again. This time though, she was facing away from the wolf. He trotted up and licked under her tail. Then he mounted her. I should have run across to the house when wolf was more interested in Lupe, but I didn't. And it wasn't concern for Harry which kept me in the barn. I had seen dogs mate twice before but from far away, and I'd been younger. Now I was watching the person closest to me having sex out in the open not ten feet from where I was standing. My own dick got as hard as the wolf's must have been. When they were done, Lupe ran off, and the wolf ran after her. I did cross to the house then, and get my axe. I also got some firewood. I brushed a clear space in front of the barn door and built a bonfire there. I brought some gasoline from the kitchen, and a burning stick on another trip. Before wolf came back -- and I figure he must have though I didn't see him -- there was a fire burning in front of the barn door. I pissed a line in the snow between the fire and the barn. I don't know if any of that did any good. Maybe Lupe convinced the wolf that Harry and me belonged to her. Anyway, I didn't see him again. After a while, though, it became clear that Lupe was carrying another litter. Only one cub, this time; and showed her father in her long hair. When she was tiny, the hair was longest on her tail. Stuck way out, 'most as big as the rest of her at first. Next time I was in Lauther's I saw some tool that looked just like the cub's tail. "What's that?" I asked. "Bottle brush, want one?" Well, I didn't have any use for one, but that's what I started to call the cub. The "brush" part of her name dropped off as the hair on her tail started to behave, but Bottle became my favorite of all the cube Lupe had ever borne. I was fourteen by then, able to look after her. Harry not being much fun for a cub and Lupe needing a lot of time for hunting, Bottle and I were thrown together. I got a better plow cheap from a farmer who'd sold off his mule a couple of years before, and plowed more than even Mom had. I knew what I was doing, now. What I didn't know was how I was going to get through until harvest. Lupe started chewing and swallowing all the game she caught. She'd throw it up again for Bottle to eat, but not for me. Not that I was particularly interested. The crisis came as spring was turning into summer. I had bought a metal pitchfork and was turning over the little hay we had stored for Harry. I turned over one pile and a stink rose. Since Harry could eat pasture for half his needs, we had what I figured as two months of hay stored, and three months of time to go until I could cut more. When I had thrown out the deeply rotted stuff, what was left was less than Harry ate in a week. I didn't have enough food for me. I didn't have any food to share with Lupe when hunting was scarce. And Lupe was, after all, eating for two. Now I didn't have enough food for Harry. He was old, and some days during plowing season I had to take him out of harness not long after noon. Farmers all around were getting rid of their horses. I couldn't see anybody paying for Harry. 'Sides, I needed meat. I got a couple of the last turnips from the root cellar, and took them, a couple of knives, and the axe with me to where Harry was trying to get a meal from a pasture he'd eaten over last week. I put one turnip down by a fence pole. Harry ate it and looked up at me. I tossed a rope around his head and tightened it way high on his neck. When he bent down for the next turnip, I tied the other end of the rope low on the fence pole. He couldn't raise his head. Before he worried about that, I threw down the last three turnips. As he bent down to get the treats, I swung the axe overhand to hit the back of his skull. He dropped, at least stunned. I took a better swing, and split his skull. After that, all I had to do was cut him up. I roasted all the meat and half the organs that day and the next. The parts I wouldn't take, lungs stomach and guts, I left out for Lupe. And I smoked the roasted meat over the next week. Well, from one plowing period to the next, Harry had made more work than he eased. We got through the summer with me walking to Lauther's store to buy the occasional bag of flour or beans. The checks kept coming in. I looked through Mom's records to find a checking account she used. I practiced her healthy signature again, and deposited some of the rent and interest checks. Some of my purchases were made from that account. Meanwhile, I had fun with Bottle when I wasn't working. Mom had never let Lupe in the house, let alone her cubs, but I played inside with Bottle in bad weather. Harvest time, I sold the hay standing. I didn't get much, but I could concentrate on the truck I'd planted for me. I figured it was enough for the year. When I got the royalty check, I took it down to Jennings with a check on Mom's bank account that paid the tax up to date. I walked there, mebbe five miles; and Jennings asked about Harry. "Don't tell Sarah," I said. "We had to put him down. Less work this way, but I don't know how I'll get the plowing done." "Well," he said, "he was getting old. You're right about Sarah, though. There's people with tractors who plow other people's fields for hire. Want to consider that? Could you afford to pay them?" "Just about. Couldn't afford not to." Nobody thereabouts admitted to having an extra cent, and -- dressed in my Mom's old coat and living on a tiny hill farm -- I was more believable talking poor than many. I wasn't Mom's size yet, but my feet were getting too big for her shoes. I bought a pair from Lauther, and -- later in the year -- pants and shirt as well. I still dressed in Mom's clothes around the farm, but I wore my own on trips to the store. The coat and the padding of sweaters didn't make anybody blink. Wear what keeps you warm. Sometimes I wore the pants under Mom's dresses on the farm in cold weather. Bryant, a neighboring farmer, heard from Jennings that I was looking for somebody to plow the field. He offered to do the whole thing for $100. He took a few hours sitting down to do what used to wear me out, to say nothing of wearing Harry out, for more than a week. Since I didn't put in any hay, sowing was loads more work; and I had to buy some potato eyes from Bryant, too. Still, I had much more than Mom had ever planted for humans with less than half the work. Hoeing was harder work over the summer, though. And, when I was done and just wanted to lie down, Bottle wanted to play. Later in the year, Lupe took her hunting. After those trips, Bottle and I would lie down together on the grass -- floor if it was raining. I would scratch her chin, or she would lick mine. Harvest that year was work. When it was done, though, I had enough food to last me through the year. Bottle was catching enough to feed herself -- bringing me the occasional rabbit, too. I showed up at school again. Told teacher I had been staying home 'cause my mom was sick. She told me that wasn't a good enough excuse. She was new that year, though, and maybe didn't understand I'd been out two years. We all sat together, anyway. So I started where I had left off and slowly caught up with the boys my height. I bought some kerosene and a lantern from Lauther and read at night. Sarah was mad enough at me for telling her that Harry had died; I wasn't about to tell her that I had killed him. Only when Bottle came along with me to school one day did Sarah forgive me. Bottle was quite a hit with the kids. I bought a brush and, on the teacher's insistence, some rope from Lauther. I would brush all the junk off Bottle's coat and tie the rope around her neck. She would walk me to school. The kids would pet her for a bit. Then I would untie her, and she would run home. I told the other kids Bottle was my dog. She enjoyed pretending she was. Wouldn't you enjoy showing up some place from time to time to have a lot of people comment on how pretty you looked? Some days after school, she would bring me the rope and we would walk around the farm pretending she was on a leash. Other times, she would stand patiently while I would tie the rope around her neck and took a firm grip. Then she would dig in all four feet and pull the rope out of my hand. Then -- after running a circle around the house -- she would head back to me to play the game again. I never tied a slip knot or tied the other end to anything; neither Bottle nor Lupe would have liked that. Lupe had been getting more and more sheep. Maybe there were other wolves operating in the area; I don't know. Anyway, the sheep raisers were planning hunting parties, and their kids were full of the talk. I couldn't hold Lupe back, but I did fix up a place for her in the barn. It was as good a hideout as any. One day, instead of the interest check I was used to twice a year, I got a letter saying that a bond had "matured." The letter came with a check for $10,000. I put the check in Mom's account and then paid the property tax up to date. When the royalty check came through, that went in Mom's account right off. I knew we weren't rich. It was like selling off some of the land. Bring in a lot of money, but whatever it produced would go to somebody else after that. Still, it felt like rich. When spring brought around Bottle's birthday, I splurged on a collar and leash for her at Lauther's. Bottle was real proud of those. She'd of worn the collar all day if I'd let her. Lupe didn't like her wearing it when she took her daughter hunting, though. School was barely over when Bryant plowed the fields again. Planting was as hard as the year before, but I could see that my store of food that year would last me through harvest. With any luck, the bad spell was over. Bottle sometimes walked me out to the field in the morning or visited me there during the day. She knew, though, that I was too busy working to really play. When the whole farm was planted, I slept in. I got out of bed in the early morning to piss in the furrow, got back out of bed in the late morning to fix myself breakfast. I went out to visit the furrow again after breakfast. It being warm and dry, I didn't put anything on. Mom used to make me dress, even inside, every day. But I'd got lazy about that over the summers. Lupe and Bottle didn't care, and who else saw me? I was in a bit of a hurry when Bottle caught up with me. She waited patiently while I did my thing and wiped myself with a bit of dried grass. Then she ran up to sniff me and ran away. I chased after her, knowing full well I couldn't possibly catch her. After a bit, though, she would freeze in place until I was almost there. And she would freeze in place pointing away from me with her front end on the ground and her hind end raised as far as it would go. I suddenly recognized the pattern. Lupe had used it with Bottle's father so long before. I couldn't help getting hard remembering it, and running with a hardon excited me more. So, when Bottle stayed put when I caught up with her, we were both ready. I knelt down on one knee, put both hands on her hips, and bent over. Bottle pushed back when I pushed forward, but I didn't go in. She was tight. My dick was covered with juice, though, and maybe Bottle was producing some of her own. Tight as it was, it felt much better around my dick than my hand had ever felt -- warm and smooth. When about half of my dick was inside, I shot and shot. "Oh, Bottle!" I said. We stayed like that for a minute. When she pulled away, I almost fell over. She turned around to lick me. She licked my face, and then my dick, and then my face again. Obviously, she had enjoyed herself. We played in the fields for another hour. I fucked her twice more, going in more easily each time. When I got hungry, I took her inside with me. The only meat I had was a little bacon, and she had half of that. When we went back into the fields to play some more, I managed to fuck her one more time. Bottle couldn't figure why I gave up so easy, but I had always been the first to get bored with our play. When Lupe got back from hunting, she sniffed us both. There ain't no sense in trying to lie to a wolf. I was scared she'd drive me away. She'd done that with her cubs when they'd begun to play like that, and before they got to the actual fucking, too. She looked like she was considering it, but then she went and lay down. The next few days, Bottle and I fucked and played. I was fifteen, but -- let me tell you -- I was nowhere near ready for it as often as Bottle was. Then her interest went away, and I went back to farm and house work. Besides weeding the fields, besides housework and fixing up where the wind blew through the siding, I studied the records that Mom kept. Her bank records showed that she had bought bonds and stuff occasionally. I started to buy them with her checks, but with me as the owner. I had to get a Social Security number to do that, but I could get one in town. The income tax began to worry me; I hadn't paid any for her since her death. And, since I hadn't told anybody about that, I couldn't use it as an excuse. I did find a will in my favor, though. When I got back to school, I was with the upper-grade kids. We had a different recess time than the younger kids, and these thought their own dogs better than Bottle. She didn't do tricks. Of course, Bottle did one trick which pleased me more than all the stunts the other kids taught their dogs, but I kept quiet about that. When one boy accused another of fucking sheep, the other denied it and accused the first boy. The others giggled. When one accused another of fucking his sister, it meant a fight. I only heard that twice. What they would have thought of fucking a wolf or fucking a niece, I could only guess. Wolves, after all, are noble animals -- much better than sheep. The kids in school with me didn't have any nieces old enough to be fucking. Still, I kept my mouth shut. If Bottle couldn't wear her collar and leash to school with me, she wore it to town. We started to go in to Lauther's store almost every Saturday. Since he made a fuss about bringing Bottle into the store, I started to leave her outside. One day, I'd gone in intending to buy a new shirt. There were so many I took my time deciding. Bottle got impatient and came in to see what was keeping me. Lauther made a greater fuss about that. The next week, I left Bottle at home, but she followed me. I took to tying her up outside the store. During the depths of the winter, I couldn't get in some weeks. Bottle got interested in me once more. I couldn't strip down in the barn, but I could get my dick out. Come spring, we walked the distance every week. Bottle stayed outside and let people admire her. Then I untied her, and we walked home. One Saturday, I came out to find a big car parked outside the store and a boy petting Bottle. The man who came with the car and the boy was a stranger from town. He tried to buy Bottle from me. The idea was funny, but he didn't laugh when I turned him down. The next week, the same car was parked outside the store with a small trailer hitched behind it. Strange, we didn't get many visitors from town -- none two weeks in a row. I was buying a pair of jeans that week. My old pair had ripped embarrassingly in school. When I picked one out, Lauther insisted on my trying it on in the store's john. I'd never tried anything else on, and I could hold it up to my waist to see how it would fit. For that matter, I had chosen a pair with some room to grow. But I did what he asked. I had the new pair almost on when I heard Bottle yelp from outside. I pulled them up and ran out. "You can't take them without paying," Lauther yelled. He grabbed me. I fought him off once and reached the door, but he grabbed me again. By the time I was outside, the car was roaring off down the road. Bottle was nowhere to be seen. "I have the money in the other pants," I told Lauther when I went back in. "That's okay," he said, "but you can't just run away wearing clothes you haven't paid for." "That bastard took Bottle." "Well, if it's your dog, then report the theft. You do have papers saying you bought it, don't you?" Well, I didn't. I hadn't bought her. Far as I know, nobody from the farms around here has papers. If the guy had been from around here -- friendless as I was -- he'd have been labeled a dog thief. As it was, he was from farther away than I'd ever traveled. I couldn't produce Lupe 'cause some of the sheep folk had caught glimpses of her. Nobody knew she and I were friends, much less brother and sister. Anyway, a kid didn't go to law. Mom was the person to go, and Mom had been dead for years. So, there was nothing I could do but hope Bottle would escape and work her way back. I tried to tell Lupe, but I don't know how much got across. She knew Bottle was gone, though. Maybe she knew it was 'cause I'd pretended that Bottle was my dog. We kept going, both of us. After I caught up on Mom's taxes and turned eighteen, I got myself a banking account by mail. More money was coming in than going out, and I took to buying meat almost every week. Lupe was really slowing down, and I gave much of what I bought to her. Regular meat, though. I never buy dog food. I'd learned to never call a wolf a dog. Then she let herself get seen by a shepherd. As I said, she was slower than she'd used to be. Maybe she was slower than she thought she was. Anyway, his shot hit her. She made it back here, and I try to take care of her. She's taken care of me, lots. And she's my sister. You don't have to say that, if you don't believe it. Call her my wolf. Just don't call her my dog. Never call a wolf a dog. |
The end Bottle Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2003/10/31 Thanks to Denny for editing this. Thanks to Stasya for advice on canid sexuality -- he isn't responsible for my representation of this, however. For another story involving a youngster and a canid: "He Doesn't Love Her Like I Do This story is coded (inc best). The code, best, means: Bestiality, sex with animals. For more on the story codes and how to use them to find the sorts of stories to interest you: "Story codes for readers" This story is indexed under: Etc. Stories not Indexed Elsewhere The directory to all my stories can be found at: Index to Uther's Website |