I moved through the woods as carefully as I could, darting from cover to cover.  My pistol was heavy in my hand, but I worried that its ammunition might not be sufficient: I was hunting two foes in the leaf-dappled shade of the trees, even as they were hunting me; all of us with mayhem on our minds.

From up ahead I thought I saw a flash of red-gold fur and a green that was too artificial to be a leaf.  That matched – one of my targets was last seen wearing a green shirt.  I dropped into a half-crouch and crept closer, holding my tail high so as not to drag it through the leaf-litter.  

Target confirmed.  He was mostly concealed in a bush, clearly aiming to surprise anyone passing by.  I snickered quietly – the ambusher was about to become the ambushee.  I considered taking my shot now, but decided against: my weapon’s range was poor, I didn’t have enough shots to risk wasting one and he was totally focused on the wrong direction.  This would prove to be a very poor decision.

Too busy keeping an eye on my enemy, I failed to see the tree root protruding from the loam.  My foot did not miss it.  I lurched forwards with an involuntary cry of surprise, my pistol flying from my hand as I attempted to regain my balance.  My erstwhile target spun around and fired twice, dead on centre-mass.

Ice cold water drenched the front of my T-shirt, plastering the cloth to my fur, and I lurched to a halt as my water-pistol hit the ground.  “Gotcha, Hickory!”  The twelve-year-old pup crowed with victory, and I half-raised my hands in surrender, conceding defeat: “You got me, Josh.”  

“You’re my prisoner now! So…”  he looked around for a moment.  The rules of the game got a bit hazy at this point – it was a game that had evolved over years of summers shared between our two families, but before it had always been four of us: the older three O’Leary brothers and me, the rat girl from the neighbouring property, divided into two teams of two.  It was more-or-less ‘capture the flag’, but part of the challenge was finding the other team’s flag in the acres of woodland. You could also win however, by capturing all the opposing team members and getting them back to your base.  But they could, in turn, be rescued by their own team member.  

Today, however, the game was a bit different.  Brandon, the eldest, was stuck back at his family’s cabin, baby-sitting their youngest brother.  So, with just three of us, we’d decided to go one-on-one-on-one.  

Josh clearly decided to figure it out back at his base.  He confiscated my pistol from where it had fallen, and led me through the trees.   We weren’t, as it turned out, far from the spot where the swatch of cloth that was his flag hung from the branch of a large tree – one I knew from years of playing in the woods: it was great for climbing, and various lengths of rope hung from it, relics of old swings and climbing aids.  “So, what now,” I asked, “Going to leave me here and go hunting for Austin?”

“Nah, I want to go get your flag.  Where’d you leave it?”

“Nothing says I got to tell you,” I retorted, nettled by his easy assumption of victory.

“You got to tell me, you’re my prisoner!”

“Or what…?”

He pushed his glasses up his muzzle and mustered his best twelve-year old glare.  “Or I’ll interrogate you and make you talk!”  ‘Interrogate’? He’d always been the nerdiest one of the four of us, and had clearly been reading again.

I glared back with all the hauteur that my extra year of age could muster, “I’d like to see you try!”  Truthfully, I was kind of curious as to what he would do.

Josh did his best to look fierce, and gestured with his water-gun.  “Alright, prisoner – move over there.”  It would have been much more convincing if not for the nervous wagging of his tail.  In the interests of not getting sprayed with more cold water though, I moved as he directed, until my back was up against the tree’s thick trunk.  He pulled down one of the lengths of rope and with easy craft, wrapped it around my wrists before tossing it over a branch and drawing my hands up above my head.  

I glanced up at my hands, “OK, so you’ve got me secured.  What now?”  I looked back down to see him staring at my chest, semi-hypnotised.  “Oh…”   Despite having entered my teens, I still hadn’t grown any tits worth speaking of, and could still easily pass as a boy most of the time.  However, the cold water and the raised arms meant that my nipples were both very erect and very visible through the wet cloth of my T-shirt.   I felt a wave of heat as a blush sent blood rushing to my cheeks and my ears near-glowed red… but some of that heat seemed to go in a different direction.   “Josh!”

He startled out of his daze and stepped back, “Oh! Sorry!”

I thought quickly, although it wasn’t entirely my brain that was doing the calculations. “It’s… OK.  I’m your prisoner – you’re allowed to look.”

“Oh, okay.” He stepped closer again, looking me up and down.  I tried to imagine it from his perspective:  a scrawny thirteen-year old rat tomboy, clad in T-shirt, shorts and sneakers, tied to a tree with her arms above her head. Then my imagination edited in my knowledge of what I looked like in my bedroom mirror to think what he might see without the clothes, and I swallowed as another wave of heat washed over me.

“So… what you going to do?”

“Are you going to tell me where your flag is?”  I shook my head defiantly.  “Then… I’m going to tickle you!”

“No-oooo, you monster!”  I let some melodrama bleed into my dialogue, before catching his eye and we both giggled, before he did, indeed, start running his fingers up and down my sides, digging into my ribs and seeking out ticklish spots.  As I squirmed under his touch, the bark of the tree trunk rubbed against my back, and I could feel my shirt starting to ride up.  I opened my mouth to say something, and again, some part of me that had nothing to do with common sense jumped in to speak:  “I won’t talk, even if you tickle higher up!”

“Oh, okay.”  He carried on tickling the sides of my tummy.  

I looked at him and tried again:  “I said: ‘I won’t talk, even if you tickle me higher up!’”

It was like watching the sun come up as light dawned in his expression. “Oh… Oh!”  He cleared his throat, “We shall see how long you can resist this torture!”  And finally, his paws did start moving up my sides, as he worked his way up my ribs, and I squirmed more, and my shirt rode up higher, until at last, my nipples were exposed to the air and to his gaze, and if possible, they got even harder.

“Oh no, you’ve exposed my little tits!  I can only hope you don’t treat them too roughly as you try to make me talk!”

“C-can I?”  Josh hesitated, his paws inches from my tender and oh-so-willing flesh.  

“I’m your prisoner and I’m not talking.  You should definitely keep interrogating me.”  My voice was firm.

His paws descended on the barely-there mounds of my breasts and I made an inarticulate noise as the rough pads on his palms rubbed over my nipples.  His gropings were inexpert, but I gave myself over to the sensations: sweet pleasure as he massaged my tits, strangely-pleasant discomfort as I rubbed up against the tree trunk, the starting-to-develop ache in my arms.  

I was dragged back to focus suddenly as Josh pinched both my nipples and tugged. “Nnngh!”  A shock of pain, but also a thrill of delight that shot from my chest down into my groin.  I struggled to catch my breath.  “I… I’m still not going to talk. Not…” I hesitated, but then committed myself.  “Not even if you go lower.”

Josh blinked.  “Low… Oh!”  He didn’t need a second hint this time, as he abandoned my chest and ran his hands down my sides, before slipping his fingers under the waistband of my shorts, over my skinny hips.  He moved his fingers through my fur for a moment before a realisation occurred to him.  He looked up at me.  “Why aren’t you wearing underpants?”

I blinked, “Does it really matter?”

“Uh, not really. I… guess I’d just… be taking them off anyway?”  He paused, some part of him clearly waiting for me to tell him ‘no’, to say that this was going too far.  But I only encouraged him with silent consent.  Josh fumbled with the button of my shorts, and as it came free, tugged them down to my knees.  I then wiggled a bit until they fell to my ankles and stepped awkwardly out of them.  Cool air washed over my overheated groin, and made me realise for the first time how damp the fur around my lower lips had become.

Josh stepped back, running his eyes over my nearly naked body.  “Can… Will… Ahem.  Spread your legs, prisoner.”  

I couldn’t spread my legs much while keeping my feet on the ground, there wasn’t enough slack in the rope holding my hands above my head for that.  So instead, with the flexibility of an athletic youth, I just lifted one leg up and to the side, balancing on one foot and using the rope for support.  I could feel the lips of my pussy part, exposing me completely to Josh’s gaze as he dropped to a crouch in front of me.

“Y-you can touch me there if you want…”  I had had my first orgasm last summer not far from here, at the hands of his brother, Austin.  And while I had subsequently learned how to find my own pleasure, none of it had lived up to that first experience, and I was keen to see if someone else’s paws could repeat the miracle.  

“I want to try something I read about.”  

“What’s tha… Oooh!”  My query was answered as he leaned in and dragged his long wet tongue through my cleft, swiping over every part of my pussy, and sending a confused medley of sensations through me – all of them exquisitely delightful.  “Oh… oh, gods!”

Again and again his tongue lapped against my flesh, the wetness of his saliva mixing with my own wetness down there.  The part of my mind that was not entirely given over to pleasure was vaguely aware that he had freed his erection from his shorts and was rubbing his shaft as he licked me.  

Our little reverie was rudely interrupted as cold water sprayed over us, prompting stifled shrieks of surprise from us both.  I turned my head to see Austin stepping into the clearing around the tree, cradling the water gun he’d just hosed us with.  “Well, well, well…” he said, deadpan.

Josh scrambled backwards across the ground, trying to cover his exposed penis.  I, still tied up, had no such option.  “Aus…” I said quickly, “Don’t be mad at Josh! He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.”

Austin snorted with amusement.  “Oh, I know.  I only found you two because of your squeaks of enjoyment, Hickory.  But now, now I seem to have two prisoners.  And one of them is a very interesting tied up and naked rat.  What do you think I should do?”

“You could take over?” I suggested.  In for a penny, in for a pound, after all.

“Sounds good.”  He gestured with his water-gun to Josh.  “You stay there.”  Then he let his water-gun fall to the forest floor as he swaggered towards me.  I watched him approach – he’d started to fill out since last summer, his shoulders distinctly broader, and he now had several inches in height on me.  

He moved closer until he was stood right up against me, his breath washing hot over my muzzle. One hand rested softly on my breast and then he dipped his head a little and pressed his lips against mine, claiming my first kiss.  My mouth opened a little in surprise and as it did, he darted his tongue inside my mouth, tangling with mine.  We kissed for a long moment, our breaths mingling, and then his paw trailed down over my abdomen to the top of my cleft, one finger resting on my clit.  I moaned a little into his mouth as he made a quick circling motion with that finger, and in that moment, I made a decision:  he’d given me my first orgasm last summer.  He’d just taken my first kiss.  And I resolved on the spot that I’d give him another first there and then. 

I broke the kiss and leaned back a little.  “Aus, untie me? Please?”

Austin looked uncertain and a bit crest-fallen.  “You want to stop?”

“I didn’t say that. But, untie me?”

 He reached up and undid the knot securing my hands.  As I lowered my arms, I took a couple of steps and then fell to my hands and knees on the leafy forest floor, presenting him my hindquarters, tail raised.

“Hickory?”  Austin’s voice was disbelieving.

“I want you, Austin.  Please?”

I couldn’t see him behind me, but I could hear him fumbling with clothing.  Still, he hesitated.  “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”

I heard his shorts hit the floor, and then he knelt behind me, with his hands resting on my flanks. I felt the hot tip of his cock trail through the fur of my rump before he thrust his hips forwards.

His first thrusts were awkward and wildly off-target:  I had two painful shocks as his first attempts poked hard into my taint and then his third thrust very nearly took a virginity other than the one I was trying to lose.  Losing patience, I reached back between my legs and grabbed the warm length of his cock before he could make a fourth try.  

I guided his tip to nestle between the lips of my cunt.  “Here.”  And he bucked his hips forward again, and there was another shock of pain, but this one was different and hurt so sweetly and with strange delight as suddenly he was in me and I could feel the heat of his cock inside me.  I braced myself against the ground and pushed back against him, sliding him inside me until it felt he could go no deeper, and then he pulled back before thrusting forwards again.  And for a time that was probably only moments but felt like an eternity of mingled pain and pleasure that was all there was, two teens clumsily thrusting against each other, his soft growls mingling with my squeaks.  Then on one thrust he went deeper than I realised was possible and I felt a large swelling pressed against my entrance.  I paused,  “Is that your…”  I’d heard things about canine anatomy but was very hazy on the details.  

He also paused, still inside me, “My knot? Yes.” 

“I don’t think it will fit.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Can you… can you come if it doesn’t go in?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that OK?”

“Yeah.”  And he carefully thrust again, and we resumed our mating, until he grunted and I could feel a warm spurt inside me, before he pulled out.  I suddenly felt very empty.

“Was that… did you...?” I asked.

“Yeah…”  Austin suddenly sounded very sleepy, but was enough of a gentleman to ask, “Did you come?”

I thought about lying, but he had been my friend long before he was, now, my lover.  “No… but it’s OK.  That was just what I wanted.”  I paused.  “Maybe next time.”

He sounded pleased, “There’ll be a next time?”

“Gods, I hope so.”  I rolled over to be able to see him, framed against the forest background.  I gingerly reached down to touch myself, running my fingers through my cleft, through the mixed stickiness of our fluids.

I glanced over towards Josh.  “Did you enjoy the show… Oh.”  He was sat with his cock in his hand, pearly fluid dripping over his fingers.  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
I held my arms out to Austin and he came to lie down next to me, and I pressed up against his warm length. 

“So,” he said, “I guess I won the game.”

“Nah,” I replied.  “You didn’t get the prisoners back to your base.  I think I won.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I definitely got the prize. So I must have won.”