I grew up in the American foster care system, a short and skinny little cracker girl with boy-short hair, thick glasses, a flat chest and a fat ass. I was as weird and awkward as I was unpretty so I didn’t have friends. I just never knew what to say. Finding the right thing was a torturous, high-anxiety event for me, and no matter what came out of my mouth it was always stupid and wrong. I caught on quick though and it wasn’t long before I quit trying. Didn’t help that I liked girls and hated crowds of more than one, had learning and attention disabilities and some occasionally obvious but undiagnosed impulse control issues. Kids were merciless, and they taught me quickly that invisible was okay. Just stay in your lane, trash, on the outside, and keep your mouth shut. The days will go faster that way.

I bounced around among homes from the time I was seven years old. Some were better than others and the reasons they moved me were often no one’s fault but my own. Halfway through seventh grade they put me with a family of four with a son and daughter named Kyle and Heather, two years and three years older than me. They were okay kids, never too mean or anything, really just ignored me most of the time. Kyle had a habit of doing his grooming when I was in the shower and never seemed to have a problem walking in on me sitting on the pot, like I was his little brother or something. We shared the bathroom and everyone seemed to think this was all just normal life so I let it go. The parents were career-minded people and the whole family was laser focused on the kids’ sports, so no one paid much attention to me. And that was cool. I wasn’t interested in sports and I wasn’t their kid. They fed and clothed me, treated me fine and didn’t breathe down my neck, so I wasn’t going to complain. This was the best place I’d ever lived, the least stressful anyways, and I did not want to rock the boat.

I had chores just like a real kid—washing dishes, taking out the garbage, mowing the yard, cleaning the upstairs bathroom, vacuuming the house every other week. Taking care of the dog kind of defaulted to me because no one else ever had time. I fed and walked and played with him and he slept beside me most nights, watched TV with me on the couch, kept me company when I was doing house or homework and always greeted me at the door when I got home from school. He listened to me when I vented and licked away my tears when I cried. His name was Rowdy and he was a four year old mutt of some kind. He had the slick black and brown coat typical of a rottie but he seemed a little bigger than the pics I’d seen, a little taller and thicker maybe. He was protective of his people, which could be scary because he was a big dog and sounded like he was going to rip your throat out when he got serious. You’d never know it unless you were one of his people but Rowdy was a real sweetheart. He was the Mrs.’s father’s dog, living on a farm for the first year of his life, but when the grandfather passed away the family adopted Rowdy. He was with them a while before I got there but it didn’t take long for him to become my best and only friend in the world.

It was a January night in almost my third year living there, my birthday, which no one ever remembered. Nobody knew the day I was actually born anyways, including me, so it wasn’t like it was a big deal. Everybody was gone to the ball game and it was my week to vacuum so I decided to get it done. I liked the away games because it meant I got the house to myself until, like,10:00, and could spend the time running around without clothes on. I liked the feeling that living naked was natural for me, that I was made to be doing chores with my body bare for the world to look at. I had always had a thing for being naked, a mile-wide exhibitionist streak running through my soul, but nudity just always made me feel less than human and I think more than anything I liked feeling that way. I’m not exactly a complex animal though so maybe I was just a pervert.

I remember nights lying on my belly watching TV when I was 7 or 8 years old, with my body under the couch from the waist down and my pants around my ankles because the room was full of people, and though nobody knew about it but me, being half-naked among them felt naughty and incredibly exciting. Later I lived in a house with a little enclosed porch off the bathroom where they put the washer and dryer. It exited to the back yard, and sometimes at night I would get out of the shower and go running around the perimeter of the fence until I got too scared of getting caught to keep going, half hoping one of my school mates would walk by and see me. I was 10 years old when I got my period. Unfortunately puberty didn’t help my boobs but did give me nice long nipples and plenty of ass. I started noticing my own body then, wanting dark and taboo things.

Anyways, as soon as the parents were out the driveway on away game nights my clothes came off.

In no time I was dancing around the house, pushing the vacuum and singing with music pumping out through the speakers of the boom box. It was just fun. What wasn’t fun was digging the socks and shoes and cups and microwave popcorn bags out from under the living room couch, but I got down there and did it anyways because nobody else would and that’s just the kind of fastidious little bitch that I was. And that’s when I felt Rowdy behind me. I could do nothing but freeze, with my bare ass in the air. It seemed funny and a little weird but it tickled in a nice way and I wasn’t about to move.

Nobody but the doctor had ever touched me there and never like that. Rowdy just sniffed at first, my butthole and then lower, and then he was parting my cheeks and licking my entire crack with that long, warm, sloppy appendage of his, like he was going to eat me alive. Et voila! I wasn’t scared anymore. Hell, I wasn’t anything but the hot, quivering mound of meat between my thighs, and I spread my knees so he could have more.

I think I knew what was going on when he climbed atop me then, but with this unthinkable scene unfolding and these unthinkable new sensations assaulting my body I could not process the very confusing reality of what was happening. I was helpless to do anything about it. It was like I was outside myself watching this monster savage some other girl, and as much as it terrified me I couldn’t make myself make it stop. He was just so much bigger than me, so heavy on my back, controlling me, thrusting so fast and so hard that he kept knocking me sideways and himself off. But slowly we fell into rhythm. Our bodies began to sync and I cried as I parted my legs to accommodate him. With considerable strain and manual force he finally penetrated, destroying my hymen and plunging his huge cock inside me. I don’t really remember it but I know I must have screamed because, well, I’m a screamer, and because god DAMN that hurt! Like someone was skewering me with a fence post.

We lived in the suburbs of a small town, a subdivided neighborhood out in the county, with the huge uncurtained windows of the living room overlooking the front yard and the street just beyond it. So I was nervous about that. I was nervous about sex in general and specifically intercourse with a horny animal that outweighed me by at least 50 pounds. I was really nervous about getting caught and kicked out of yet another home, but it was my birthday, dammit, and maybe nobody else gave a rat’s ass but I was going to have a good time.

I neither loved nor trusted anyone more in the world than I did that dog, and there was no way I’d rather have celebrated my 15th birthday than by giving him my virginity. Besides that, Rowdy was a big, powerful, handsome beast and I was discovering that I loved being close to him like that. I loved the feeling of his warm, muscular body against my small, soft, naked form and the mass of him on my back, his forelegs wrapped around my waist, pressing me, tits and elbows, to the hardwood floor beneath him. I felt so small and fragile. I felt like his.

I remember it like it was yesterday, lifting my hips, pressing back to him, relaxing and opening myself to take all of him into my tight little cunt, trying to breathe as he swelled—filling, stretching—the ache between my legs excruciating and blinding and just OH MY F’ING GOD! I could hear myself whimpering as he bucked, my body rocked, jerked by the pounding because he no longer slid in and out but was knotted inside me. The explosion of his semen in my belly is an experience that I will never forget and something I’ve tried desperately to find again, but I guess there’s nothing like your first time. It’s really hard to describe, different than intercourse with a human, though I feel like I’m being bred when I’m with a man too. What most comes to my mind when I think about that night is the heat of him, his body on top of me, his cock inside me and his sperm exploding into my vagina, his semen milky and hot and too much for me to hold, leaking out of me around the base of his cock and dripping from my bearded hole.

I panted and wailed and cried my eyes out. I reached for the couch, wrapped both hands around a wooden leg and straightened my arms, pushing back to help him drive his organ into me even deeper. It wasn’t even me. My body just took over. It wanted this. It knew what to do, instinctively, like this was what it was made for. I sobbed and moaned between spasms of pain and gulps of air and don’t remember much detail outside myself but heat and raw agony. And I don’t know how long they stood watching before I realized they were there, but I think I probably knew someone had entered the room. I heard them somewhere out on the edge of my senses, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was feeling more of this unworldly mess of sensation and emotion that was ripping through me, something I can only describe as ecstatic but unimaginable pain and the euphoria, the ultimate closeness of having another living being inside me, of for the first time in my life feeling worthy of the air I was breathing.

After what seemed like a really long time everything started slowing down, the dog, the molten blaze of sensation and emotion that he was pumping into me, my shattered mind finally shocked out of the frenzy by the slowly dawning reality that someone else was here, watching me, naked on the floor having furious, vocal sex with a dog. I needed to run, hide, be anywhere but here. And I needed to do it now. I tried to stand but I still had 130 pounds of dog on my back and eight thick inches of him knotted inside me, tethering me in place by my cunt. I wanted to die right then and there. My life in this house, this town, this state, was over. Hell, maybe there was no place anywhere for me now.

I glanced back over my shoulder and my blood froze. There stood Kyle—Kyle and three of his friends, all gawking with stunned looks but whispering excitedly to each other. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t look at the faces of these boys who were staring at me. What could I do? What was there to say?

I will forever remember the feeling of utter embarrassment and the sheer terror of what these boys were seeing, what they were thinking, what they were going to do. When I glanced up again they were gone.