This is a continuation:Postapocalyptic reality 1https://xhamster.com/stories/postapocalyptic-reality-1-640119
Of course, her pack might not appreciate other wasteland critters fucking her – and she might have problems scavving with the pack in tow. Come to think of it, returning to her old camp with a pack of mongrels (even if they will let her) might be a bit problematic. She wasn’t ready to abandon her hunting rifle or her laser weapons (even if fusion cells are hard to get), and though she didn’t really need her tent or sleeping bag right now, she didn’t want to lose them or her winter garments.
She took a closer look around the cellar, lighting the lantern after finding a can of kerosene. There was a torn and perished rubber tube near the faucet, and on a small table or shelf next to the sink was some glass flasks and filters. A chem lab? Maybe a water purifier? She wasn't sure – nobody had taught her chemistry when she was a c***d. There was a home-made battery under the workbench and a few power tools (a motorised wheel and a drill) which could be useful. She very rarely had access to such things, but had used them before. Usually she sold such batteries when she came across them, but now she had a good reason to get this working. This lair was better than anything she had even hoped for.
A good hideaway, a workstation, guard dogs, a possible water supply. All she needed now was a regular source of food and she had the perfect home. She was painfully aware that the fate of the previous tenant was almost certainly a case of his being attacked by her pack – probably because they were hungry. But then, dogs don’t have rifles, so their hunting is a little more limited than hers. She was certain she had seen a Radstag not far from here – that would provide a good meal for them all, and if she crept up close enough, she could kill it with one shotgun shell.
It was too dark now to scout the area for game or look for edible fruit and vegetables, but some of the surrounding land had looked suitable for a degree of farming. Tomorrow she would look for food, then she would go back to her old camp for her rifles - once she had ensured the pack would remain loyal to her. Having her own personal guard dog would indeed be useful, and having a whole pack to protect her would be pretty awesome, but trying to ensure they are all well fed might be difficult. Did she really need five dogs? Maybe if one or two of them met with an “accident” the pack would be easier to handle.
She wasn't sure if it might come to that. With her enhancing their hunting skills, and they enhancing her hunting skills, food might not be a real problem. What she didn't relish was being regularly banged by five horny hounds – at this rate she would soon have a pussy as big as a Brahmin's.
Looking closer at the flasks and retorts on the bench, she was pretty sure the rubber tube had once fed water from the faucet into a water purifier of some kind. The large flask with the remnants of the tubing certainly looked like some sort of filter. She could probably fix it with a tube from a blood pack or something similar. There was a collection of jars with labels on that contained things like dried mushrooms, preserved bloodbug glands, venom sacs, and various seeds and dried plants. There was no doubt that this had once been the lair of a competent chemist. A shame she knew practically nothing of chemistry herself. Maybe she could learn.
There were a few tins in the cupboards – maybe not too far gone to consume. Most tinned food was irradiated, but if these had been down here since before the war they should be clean. More likely though, they had been scavenged by the previous tenant, so maybe not so good. There was a wooden chest under the stairwell with a scoped pipe rifle, a couple of grenades, a bag of caps and some ammo. To be honest, she'd expected a better weapons haul from someone who had clean water and a workbench. Even she had better weapons stashed away than these. Maybe he'd hidden the best stuff somewhere else. Maybe the corpse on the mattress wasn't the original owner – just someone taking refuge for a while. Was the original owner still alive? What if he came back? She smiled to herself. “My boys will soon take care of him if he does.”
She considered a more thorough search of the cellar, but weariness was getting to her and she needed to sleep. After all, she had been scavving all day, walked many miles, and just been fucked senseless by five wild dogs.
She sat curled up on the filthy mattress, and soon the alpha dog joined her on the mattress, whilst the rest of the pack curled up in the corners of the cellar. She was beginning to feel cold, and the Alpha's body was warm. It didn't object when she snuggled close to it for warmth and she began to wonder just how wild this dog was. His pelt was almost complete, unlike the sparse patchy fur that covered the unhealthy scabby skin of the rest of the pack. He was not as thin and emaciated either, and though that may be because as the alpha he gets first pickings, she suspected that maybe once he was an owned dog – probably a junk-yard dog. He had a few scars. but all alpha dogs have deep scars, because you don’t get to the top without going through really tough fights.
Also, it seems unlikely that he would so easily lie next to her unless he was already accustomed to human contact. Her power over a****ls only lasted as long as she was producing the right pheromones, which was why she had never attempted to tame her mates. Not that she hadn't imagined how awesome that would be. Just imagine how cool it would be to wander through the wilderness riding on the back of an enormous Yao-Guai, or strolling through towns with a Deathclaw at her side. Why, even the bravest Raider gangs would run from her. It was one of her greatest dreams
But the moment the mating is over and the b**st no longer desires sex from her, she is once again regarded as another human – either a potential threat, or a potential meal. She wondered with just a little trepidation whether she was making a serious mistake now? Taming one mutt was quite feasible – she had considered it before, and knew that there was at least one wasteland wanderer with a reputation for capturing and domesticating wild dogs to sell. Originally, thousands of years ago all dogs were wild until humans domesticated them. One dog she could easily domesticate, she was sure. But a pack of five wild mongrels? That was ambitious.
Of course, she didn’t really need to domesticate the whole pack. All she needed to do was ensure that the pack leader accept her, and that he remained the Alpha male. And if she was right that he was once a domestic a****l, that would not be hard. As long as she fed him well, and gave him regular sex, he would keep her safe. He was smart, she could tell. There was a look of intelligence in his eyes, and any dog that becomes a pack leader has to be smarter than the rest of the pack. The only hard part would be gaining their respect. She didn’t want to just be their bitch and under their control.
She could see they were somewhat wary, staring at her uncertainly. Maybe they wanted to fuck her again, or maybe they wanted to eat her. Maybe they just saw her as a threat. Whatever – whilst she was in the Alpha's favour, she would be safe. Of course, she would have to find a name for him. There was no sign of a collar – though a slightly worn and roughened line on his neck suggested that he probably did wear one once. What might he respond to? Red perhaps (his fur was reddish after all). Maybe Alpha? Alpha Red? Alfred! That was it, she'd call him Alfred.
“How you doing Alfred?” she said to him in a quiet friendly voice. He looked up at her with his big brown eyes. She stroked his warm fur and saw by the dim light from the lantern that his ruby tip was peeking from his sheath, so carefully sliding her hand down to his belly, she began to fondle him. His response was positive – he didnt growl or snap at her, he let her continue as he slowly became more erect. Soon the huge organ was erect in her hand as she gently masturbated him. The hot penis throbbed in her grasp and grew to a size that amazed her. Had it really been as big as this when he fucked her? No wonder she felt so filled by it. It was around eight or nine inches from the ruby red tip to the pale veined knot at the base. The hard bulbous knot was another inch and a half to two inched in diameter. She thought it a beautiful shape too – a conical tip with a nicely flared crown that was not too big, with a narrow neck that bulged enormously at the middle of the shaft, to become narrow again just before the knot.
She realised and admitted to herself that she liked this cock, and she liked being fucked by it. Her mind was set – she would make this dog hers, and she would let him fuck her whenever he wanted. It would be her pleasure to have this glorious cock inside her as much as possible.
Jenny bent down to kiss it, then gently sucked on the warm tip. The dog whimpered as she cupped his knot in her hand and slowly fellated his shaft. Soon she tasted his sweet hot pre-cum flooding her mouth, and took his cock as far into her throat as she could. She couldn't open her mouth wide enough to get his whole cock past her lips, so just used her lips and her hand to masturbate him until he ejaculated his thick hot cum down her throat. That was it – she totally won him over. He licked her face as she fell asleep with her arms around him, and knew she was safe.