FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You seem to remember dozing off in Bubbles' arms, a vapid expression of bliss on your new appropriately toony face as he stayed buried inside you after the mating. Somehow, you also remember thinking that it should've been somehow alarming how good and proper it felt being so happy. A silly thought, of course. Being happy was great! It just felt as if you'd lost something, perhaps a pair of keys dropped on some street, or perhaps your original personality, drowned in a sea of gooey bliss, but a bouncy little otter slut like you couldn't really be expected to keep track of such things. After all, your purpose was making people happy with your wonderful body, and their happiness made you happy in turn, particularly with how every nudge of Bubbles' cock inside your stretchy hole flooded your new rubbery mind with dopamine. Getting fucked silly was great.

Soon enough, the other employees had to pry you apart, taking you to storage until you could be given an assignment. That's what they said. Storage. Not to get some rest, not to go home, but be put into storage. You almost panic.

"I bet they'll use you as a mascot for one of the football teams," one of the wolves escorting you giggled. "Those horny players need plenty of relief to keep winning!"

"Oh no, he'll totally be working here," a fox replied cheerfully. "I can't wait to see him welcoming more people to the job!"

"He'll be a toy for pets is my guess," the tiger grumbled, tersely. What was his name again? You seem to remember him being Stripes.

"You're both silly. He'll be a hit at bachelor parties. Who doesn't want a night of wild sex just before marriage? It's not even cheating if it's with a toy," a second fox exclaimed with a chirp.

All of those sounded like amazing _terrifying_ideas to you, although you were a little too blissed-out to really formulate a response as they carried you to a storage pod. That'd be the final step of your introduction, they said, to really establish you as a character, while the managers figured out a good job for you. It was a little metal tube, barely big enough for you to fit in, but with how stretchy your new body was, it was an easy fit anyway. You remember squeaking happily as they fitted some sort of silly headset over your head, leaving you in warm darkness for a while. How long? You hardly remember. Some deeper part of your mind, one that you hoped to get rid of soon, kept worrying. Like a muffled sense of panic. What was that big and complex word again?

Claustrophobia. Fuck. You have no idea where you are, and you can't move, or breathe, or even need to breathe. The last thing you remember is... applying for a new job, and then-

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel like a prisoner in a dangerously pleasurable shell. Even in this situation your furred skin tingles with delight. Surely they'd come looking for you? There was no way there wouldn't be a search, lonely as you were. People didn't just disappear. What've they done to you? Why did it feel so good? Why was it so hard to remember who you even were? The only solid thing you could cling to was knowing that eventually they'd let you out. All you had to do was resist, to retain at least this fragment of yourself.

Oh. That word. You don't understand why you'd worry like that. Everything was happy, after all. Like swimming through a lake of cotton candy only to emerge in a land of cocks, all of them eager to plunge into you one after the other, filling you with that wonderful sticky warmth and letting you leak bliss all over the place, making everyone happy!

You press against the capsule walls, trying to force it open, but it's hard as steel. It probably is steel. It's like you've been buried alive, but at least there's oxygen. It's only a few more moments until you realize that you don't need to breathe to begin with, even though your instincts still demand that you do. There's no shortness of breath, no fading, despite your lungs not responding. Do you even have lungs anymore? You make sounds, so surely you do.

It's at least a distraction to think about. Anything but your current state of captivity, not that it's all that bad. It's warm and cozy, and although you'd rather be out playing and mating, it's at least a snug little position to be in.

Soon enough, the visor on your face flashes to life. At first, there's static, which you think looks a little like white and black ants fighting, drawing a muffled giggle from your muzzle, squished against the capsule wall. Eventually, an image coalesces before you, one of a green field, with some text overlayed on top. Bleh! Reading is a little boring, but you're a good little otter so you force yourself to get through it anyway. Thankfully, a voice lags only a little bit behind, and you chirp happily when you realize you won't have to exert your dumb little mind too much.

"A belated welcome to The Mascot Factory," the voice speaks. You recognize it as the boss, the person who held your interview. "And particularly, welcome to your training and conditioning program. While you might have the appropriate body, there are still details that need fixing. For one, you need to be reminded of exactly who you are; a completely mindless toy is boring. For another, we'll also work on erasing those last pesky traces of independence you might have lingering in your mind so you can fully commit to the job."

Ooh. That sounds amazing and horrifying.

_"_Depending on how well you took to the initial treatment, you might find yourself wanting to resist. You're welcome to try, of course. Everything here is strictly voluntary, and if you find that you prefer struggling, that's perfectly fine, but so far, nobody has regretted accepting their new, shiny personalities. So I'd recommend that you lean back and enjoy this experience as we put you through a few virtual scenarios."

The human voice stops and a robotic one replaces it momentarily. "Please remember that all scenarios are harmless physically and will only result in the draining of intellectual capacity or residual human personality. By enjoying the present scenarios you are consenting to any all changes that may occur as a result of said scenarios. Enjoy your time in our simulations."

You find your oversized cock pressing against the warm metal of the capsule as it swells with anticipation of what fun experiences your new employers might give you. But what on earth, why would you want that? Why would you want to be dumber? What's a residual human personality? You close your eyes and force them open again, as if trying to snap out of the simulation, to no avail.

The human voice returns. "There's that disclaimer you're legally entitled to. Let me restate it. Fair warning. If you feel like resisting, remember that each act you willingly participate in will erase a bit of your original personality. Effectively, to use a crude phrase, you'll be cumming your brains out. Have fun!"

There's a vague buzzing sensation deep in your mind as you're automatically hooked up to the program, and a little twinge of pain before you realize that you are in that grassy field, the sun shining happily down on you, and you bounce around a bit, smelling the fresh green grass and looking at the beautiful vista of tall, snow-capped mountains in the horizon.

You look down at yourself and recoil in terror. How was any of this possible? Your body is stretched out into toony proportions, covered in soft fluff that sends little unwanted tingles of pleasure through you as you run your fingers through it. Your hips are wide and feminine, but your cock stands in stark contrast to that, a hefty red shaft hanging out of a plump sheath, half erect and bestial, and yearning to be touched. You barely manage to keep your paws - and yes, they're very much big, soft paws - off it, instead focusing on the strange virtual reality around you. Is this how your body looks in real life as well?

Or is this real life? Everything feels real. You remember the tube and the visor, but surely this kind of technology didn't exist? If it did, it definitely wasn't available to the public.

The scene suddenly shifts, revealing its artificial nature. Grass and mountains both derender, plunging you into a formless void, which then restructures itself into a seedy, worn bathroom, stalls and all. There's graffiti on the walls and a musky scent in the air in the dimly lit establishment. Every other stall stands open, and it doesn't take you long to realize each has a gloryhole, those animal cocks much like yours jutting out of each one. Seeing them presented like that sends a naughty thrill down your spine, but you force yourself to try the exit door. It doesn't open.

"Our first scenario is a simple one. We'll start you off easy," that familiar voice echoes, originating from nowhere. "In this one, we've rented you out to an adult bookstore. Remember those things? Heh. Each of these males is pent up and needs service. You can refuse, but why not explore and enjoy yourself? We'll pick you up in a few hours."

Silently, you look at those cocks, each throbbing and twitching quietly. The sight fills you with a profound sense of need, your throat feeling parched and your own maleness hardening in sympathy. This whole scenario is so horribly filthy, and the idea of kneeling on that dirty floor fills you with revulsion, but all the time, you're fighting that other part of you.

Ooh, cocks. All eager and ready to be pleased. You giggle quietly as you watch them throb. They're totally like your own, each with their own sexy shape. One has a knot, one has barbs, one is ridged, and you find yourself drooling at the idea of pleasuring them, or at least as many as you have time with once your subconscious mind stops this silly panicking. Maybe if you just ease yourself into it!

You take a step closer, your big soft paws making no sound against the floortiles, You know all you have to do is kneel and open your mouth, and those big, veiny shafts will fuck those worries right out of your mind. At least most of them! The thought makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. It'll be so nice to be totally mindless, just a happy toy to be used and abused. You squeak with frustration as something stops you from just getting in there, just going to work on relieving those sexual tensions those poor males must be feeling, and maybe earning yourself a few sticky, delicious treats.

You feel drawn to them, you have to admit that much. The line between you and the other personality in your body is blurred, at best. On some level, you are that happy, plush otter. Your body says you are, at least, and you throb lewdly at the realization. God. What was it that psychopath said? If you cum, they'll delete part of your personality. Presumably, this one, although it's hard to tell which one is the original. Of course, just sucking someone won't make you cum.

Was that thought the first step of some dangerous slippery slope of rationalizations? Maybe. But this space doesn't seem real. Your real body is presumably still in that tube - you shiver at the thought of being locked up in such a small space - but you can't feel any of it, just as your physical body probably can't feel anything that this digital version feels.

You give into the urges, and soon find yourself walking into the closest booth, the one with the knotted cock, and then kneeling.

Yay! You feel like such a good boy for convincing yourself to have a bit of fun. That's your job, after all, and a job you're very proud of doing! It's enough to make you tremble with excitement as you finally make your way to the stall and kneel appropriately in front of that luscious shaft. It's so pretty and red, and you feel happy just having the opportunity to see it this closely. Leaning closer, you give the tip a little lick, and it immediately twitches in appreciation. And so, you help yourself, feeling your arousal grow as you engulf that hot, firm, and utterly masculine length with your maw. You give it little fleeting licks and gently suck on it, and soon enough you're bobbing your head up and down on that musky, slick flesh, with your lips pursed around it.

You're suddenly sucking a cock. You don't remember liking males, but it feels beyond amazing spreading your muzzle, like it belonged there, a warm sense of utter rightness radiating through you as you let your body move itself, expertly caressing it.

Somehow, you feel like you should resist, but it feels entirely too good to try. As long as you can resist touching yourself, you should be fine, right?

Still, as the cock sinks into your eager, soft muzzle over and over again, and then into your very throat - you realize that you completely lack a gag reflex - you gurgle around it joyfully, licking and lapping, happy to have such a wonderful treat to enjoy.

Suddenly, you realize that you're already rubbing your own shaft. You freeze in a fit of panic that seems to gather in your belly, even as your precum continues to coat that exploratory paw, soaking into the long fluffy fur that covers every inch of you. Your hips twitch with need.

Finally, the cock you're worshipping throbs lewdly, and you give a deep throaty churr of delight as you feel that telltale spasm on the underside against your lips. With the next throb, a thick rope of warm, plentiful cum erupts in your mouth, and you swallow it down eagerly, delighting in how it feels sliding down your throat, sticky and warm and undeniably erotic. The next spurt hits your tongue, spraying out mid-bob, and you let it coat your tongue with that tangy, salty flavor and texture so unique to cum. You try to reach to rub yourself to a well-deserved orgasm but find your arms not responding, so in an impulsive motion, you stand up and press your round ass against the hole on the other side of the stall, hoping for a needy male to rut you to ecstasy.

Oh no no, you sputter as you realize what you're doing, your mouth still full of cum that has your tastebuds tingling with need, too distracted to resist that instinctive need that has you presenting yourself for any stranger who happens to walk into that stall. Although this is supposedly a simulation, the slutty lewdness of it feels altogether too real, particularly when you hear the door to that stall slam open, and then closed, a lusty growl echoing through the bathroom even as the first cock, now spent, withdraws. Your body holds you flush against that hole, and you can't find the strength to wrench yourself away, not when your thoughts keep wandering to your massive erection and how good it'd feel to have it relieved.

Soon enough there's a warm hardness prodding at your exposed tailhole, and you squeak excitedly, relaxing your hole and waiting the inevitable intrusion. After all, if that unpleasantly prudish side of you won't let you touch your own erection, letting another pound your prostate into submission is only fair. Whatever stranger is on the other side of the wall, simulation or not, seems to agree, and soon you gasp as your pucker begins to spread, giving into that inevitable pressure building against it, slowly stretching those intimate muscles enough for the bloated crown to slip inside, soon followed by the rest of the shaft, until you're thoroughly impaled on it, clear strings of precum leaking from your achingly hard cock as it bumps over your prostate. There's no pain, only pleasure; after all, you were _made_to take and milk cocks, and you're so proud of that fact.

Fuck. You feel that massive length sink into you, forcing a breathy gasp from your mouth. It feels insanely good, and when it saws past that little sensitive bump inside you, your knees nearly go weak in a particularly pleasurable convulsion that threatens to make you cum on the spot. And then it happens again, and again, as the stranger really begins to rut you. Oh gods, you're way too close, soon teetering just at the edge of a climax. You're afraid; if you cum, some part of yourself will be lost. But would it really be so bad to just be a happy fucktoy? To give into those sensations and get to enjoy throbbing, rock-hard cocks inside you every day? All it'd take is to submit and let that cock literally fuck your mind out, to send those thoughts messily splattering onto the virtual restroom floor.

The idea should be terrifying, you realize that much, but it's hard to focus on. Too distant, particularly when all your blood that should be going to your weakening mind is instead going to your cock, making sure you're right on the edge. Your big, plushy balls are already tightening, and thinking about it only makes it worse. The cock keeps thrusting into you like you're some common slut. Maybe you are, with how good it feels, that slick length eager to fill you, to wash away all that bothersome free will. It's harder and harder to keep your thoughts apart from those other ones, to maintain a distinction.

But if you don't manage to wrestle yourself free, you're going to cum. The realization fills you with terror. Your balls are already tightening as you eagerly take that rutting shaft that's expertly working yourself towards a climax.

He finally throbs inside and you reply with an encouraging churr. "Don't pull out," you squeak. "Just pump all that delicious cum deep into my ass," you coax him. And that he does. He slams the knot through your sphincter at the last second, tying you and him together, and then, there's that sweet eruption you've been waiting for, as his stickiness floods your insides in thick ribbons. And you feel every single drop, with how sensitive your body has been made. Feel it splattering into your body following each amazing throb, and you're so close, feeling the warmth seep into your body, your programming naturally rewarding you for letting yourself be used.

And then, you pass the point of no return, that pressure in your crotch building to a boiling point as you pant, clenching around the shaft inside you as hard as your body can muster.

Oh. No. You're- cumming. Fuck. Streams of seed shoot from your oversized cock, splashing wetly onto the already filthy floor. You feel amazing. Your head is empty except for a passive, vapid kind of happiness that seems to radiate through your whole being. Why were you resisting this? It feels wonderful. You reach down to rub your shaft and really milk all that cum out, fully giving into just how good it feels. You lose track of time as you stand there cumming, wiggling your round ass against that eager shaft inside it. And there's nowhere you'd rather be. Not right now, maybe not ever.

But then, the scene shifts, those previous sensations fading. You're somewhere darker and colder. As the environment renders around you, you think it's shaping up into a forest at night.

"With how well scenario one went, we feel confident that we can skip ahead through the regular routine. You know, typically people resist longer than you, but we're proud of you for embracing your new personality so readily," came the voice, once more, sounding distant now as if echoing through the virtual trees popping up around you, ghostlike and far away.

"As for what this scene will involve, we'd like to see how willing you are to step outside of your expected comfort zone. After all, your body was made to please all cocks. Not merely humanoid ones," the voice states, and then, there's silence.

You hear a howl in the distance, and it sends an instinctive chill down your spine. A primal kind of fear, even though it's hardly difficult to guess what they expect you to do. And for some godforsaken reason, you feel yourself grow aroused once more. Are you just going to be turned on by literally any cock now?

And would that be so bad?

Of course it's not bad, you grumble. Can't be too long now until you're just a happy fucktoy. The idea of serving a whole pack of wolves - and that is the first hopeful thought that comes to mind - is beyond thrilling. All of these forms had their own thrills. Humans, anthropomorphs and even... animals, each with their own unique flavors and mannerisms, ranging from a gentle breeding to a feral, feverish rutting, and you're very eager to try all of them. Maybe they'll rent you to a pack of werewolves! Wait, those totally exist in real life, right? Your head aches a little as you try to remember. After all, you're an otter, so why wouldn't werewolves exist? It seems perfectly reasonable.

You bide your time as those howls grow closer. There's nothing else you really could do, after all. Even though it's almost completely dark, you soon catch a glimpse of a grey wolf slipping through the trees, and then another, the occasional bark or growl reaching your ears as the pack finds you. Soon, you can smell them, those musky, earthy tones of wild (were?)wolves. The pack circles you, growling and barking, although they go quiet when you kneel, displaying your natural submissiveness.

Are you really about to give yourself over to a pack of feral wolves? You try to resist, but it's hopeless. Your body just isn't responding. At least you can take comfort in knowing that it's just a simulation, that they'll struggle to make you cum. Or is that just what you keep telling yourself?

You get down all fours, eagerly raising your plush ass and tail both, swaying your rump from side to side hoping that these _ferocious_wolves will take the hint, rather than eating you. Sure enough, the growls suddenly subside into rumbles, even whines, as you submit so obviously even wild - if simulated - animals understand it. It's not long before you feel a cold nose against your very pucker, and then the wolf's hot breath as it sniffs at what you're so freely offering, even giving your hole a warm lap with its broad tongue, the tingling sensation almost immediately making your cock swell again. You're not sure if you actually came in real life, not with how quickly you've seemingly recovered, but none of it matters when it feels this real.

You push your rear against that muzzle, making sure he - and you know it's a he from the way he rumbles possessively - gets a good whiff of your needy scent. Sure enough, he rears back and lands on top of you soon after, his warm feral body feeling so very right and proper on your back. The other wolves whine needily as they watch, and even in the darkness, you can see cocks pushing out of their sheaths, half-erect males all around you, their musky scents making your nose and eyes water. God, you need this. Obligingly, you push back once again. As you feel that rapidly engorging maleness prod at your cheeks, you rest your lower body against the soft mossy ground and reach back to spread yourself open for the beast.

And as you do, you feel completely out of control. Well, no. You're in control, because... this is you. But it's a different mindset. One that seems more appealing to fully embrace by the second. Surely your previous life wasn't this erotic, this satisfying and pleasant? You feel that stiff length jab at you again, hitting your taint this time. If you want to escape... well, it's probably too late, so you might as well enjoy it, right? Maybe let yourself be fucked into another one of those wonderful, mind-emptying orgasms.

After a few more tentative thrusts, the thick lupine breeding rod hits it mark and sinks inside you, spreading your still loose pucker wide. Being a feral, the wolf begins to thrust frantically, and you quickly find yourself moaning and whimpering even as he pounds that bestial length into you. It's hardly making love to you, only using you as a cumdumpster to quickly sate its lusts with, but you're perfectly fine with that. The role suits you, just being a cute, sexy otter available for anyone to use.

You're so happy you applied for this job.

This time, you manage to easily wrap your paw around your own cock and begin stroking it, the combined sensations of pawing off like that and being roughly mated quickly leaving you panting with need. It doesn't take long before his watery precum grows a little thicker and he howls triumphantly, clutching your body but not forcing his knot in, probably to leave you free for the rest of the pack to use. There's so much cum flooding into you it makes you feel bloated, and it's much warmer than a human's. Your cock throbs in your hand as you stroke it, only moments away from spilling your seed again. The first wolf dismounts and seconds after, another one hands on your back, already thrusting and eager to bury himself in your sloppy, cummy hole. You moan happily and push back against him, and then, as you feel him spread you wide, you reach your peak. Another massive load of your pearlescent seed sprays out in thick ropes, and you feel so, so very good as your body eagerly milks the lupine maleness inside you.

And you feel like fading. But it's a good feeling.

The whole encounter soon devolves into a full-blown orgy, with you as the eager, needy centerpiece for all these wonderful, feral cocks to plunge into, to be pumped full of cum as each and every male present sates their lusts on your body. You're merely happy that they like your body enough to fill you. After all, you were made to please them, and any other critter who needed their sexual tensions relieved. Towards the end of it, you're a sticky mess, your belly visibly bloated with their thick cum, and it covers your body as well, wonderfully warm and fragrant. And there's no doubt left; this is who you are, who you were always meant to me. The scene eventually fades to a pleasant, soothing, embracing blackness, like a warm blanket swept around your cum-soaked body. And you're happy.

You emerge from the tube feeling refreshed but also intensely horny, happy to finally be yourself, with none of those bothersome worries getting in the way. The other mascots are all there and you hug each other affectionately. Bubbles, in particular, is excited, smelling of recent sex. He eagerly tells you all about his latest assignment, helping an entire football team relieve some tension the day before a big match, lingering for quite a while describing how each of them would throb inside him in turn and just how bloated with cum he was at the end. You find yourself growing a little jealous, wishing you'd get a job like that. The virtual reality training was fun and all, but you want to do it in real life. Badly. A tiger nudges him out of that erotic reverie.

"The new recruit? They'll need some of us to get him started," he mutters, his personality a little grumpier than the happy ones you and Bubbles were blessed with.

"Oh? Oh. I'll do it. Me and err... we're forgotten to name you," the other otter says, giving you a sheepish look.

You look at him. Why would you even need a name?

"Err, what were the brown ones named?" Bubbles giggled. "Brownie? Ooh, that'd be adorable," he continues, theatrically holding his chin. "Oh oh, I know. Muffin! Even cuter, and still brown!"

With your approval, that is the name you're given. Muffin. It's as good a name as any for your many future lovers to grunt out as they take you. But what was the other thing they were talking about?

"So, we have another newcomer to introduce..." the tiger finally growls. "You could do that instead of coming up with cutesy names," he adds. He's so cute when he gets frustrated. Good old Stripes. Maybe one day you'll have him under your tail. An otter can dream! But, a new recruit?

A new recruit! You let out a squeak of excitement. What joy, helping another newcomer acclimate to this wonderful work environment! Soon, you two scamper off to the suit fitting area, barely able to contain yourselves. And there he is, another average boy just like someone you only faintly remember bei- meeting. He's a little bit chubby, with red hair, which you find rather stunning.

You and Bubbles trade knowing glances as you introduce yourselves to him. He seems hesitant at first, but you know he'll warm up to the unique corporate structure here as soon as you get him all wrapped up in a lovely, permanent mascot suit. So you lead him down to the machines, and find yourself shivering as you remember your own introduction. That wonderful, wonderful machine.

"What animal would you like to be?" Bubbles asks, more able to keep a straight face than you are. In a way it's odd. You remember being in the machine, and this human being introduced seems natural, but you don't remember ever being one. You just came here, and that beautiful piece of technology made you a little sluttier and stretchier. Oh well, the newcomer would be just like you soon enough, and you absolutely, positively cannot wait to share that happiness with a new playmate.

"A lion, maybe?" he asks. "I mean... I don't know. I like lions."

Bubbles immediately pulls out a cream-coloured lion suit from a nearby crate. It has the adorable mane and everything, and plenty of muscle definition. Then he digs a little deeper and pulls out another one, this one with less definition and barely any mane, although you know it's a male one because that's what the tag says. Tags are handy.

"Super manl-" Bubbles squeaks, and then corrects himself. "Very masculine or a bit more lanky? Swimmer build?" he asks, as you primarily think about which one would be more fun to mate with. One day you'd be as good as this as that beautiful otter, one day!

"Well I mean, it's not going to matter is it? It'll just add bulk either way," he sighs. "I guess I'm closer to a swimmer though."

You suppress a giggle as says that, even as you help him up onto the platform and begin to fasten the suit on him. It feels odd to see it happen from this angle, somehow, but it's also intensely erotic to see his skin gradually disappear under his fluffy new pelt, starting with the paws and working upwards.

"Is it supposed to tickle?" he asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Oh, that's just the suit adjusting to your body. It's very high-tech stuff," you reply with a warm smile, and he relaxes again, even as you pull the suit over his crotch. It doesn't fit perfectly yet, but it will soon. You notice he's bulging under it soon after, feeling that delightful tingling around his shaft as the suit begins to merge with him to form a sheath.

You work him into the lion suit, slotting his arms into it and then closing it all the way to his neck, leaving just the head remaining.

"How are you feeling?" Bubbles asks, even as he prepares the headpiece. With him about to end up as a maneless male, you imagine he'd be starting to feel very eager to present himself soon.

"A little weird but..." he replies, hoarsely. He's rock hard under the suit now, and he can't even cover himself since he's holding onto the handles of the machine. He trails off, and then your friend puts the lion head over his human one, muffling his speech.

"Alright, now, we'll just do some final adjustments. Stay still, if you please..." Bubbles grins, and then pushes a button on a console nearby, waking the machinery up to life. "You'll feel a little warm as the suit's properly adjusted to your body," he continues, giving his leg a little reassuring squeeze. "Nothing to worry about."

You watch as he's slowly rolled into the machine. You can't see inside of it, but you have vague memories of what it was like there, in that artificial womb, and you and Bubbles bounce around excitedly waiting for your new mascot friend to emerge, hopefully horny and ready for his first mating. After about an hour, he does emerge from the other end, looking dizzy, confused, and of course, fully erect, his cock sporting adorable and exciting spines along its length. But he's hardly in a state to use it. Despite his lack of a mane leaving him looking more like a lion_ess_ than a lion, his body does have that swimmer's build he was promised, lean and lithe, if not terribly defined.

You help him down again, and immediately begin to caress his body. It's not long before he's moaning, given how sensitive his body must feel right now, having merged with the suit. Then, a few moments later, his muzzle is wrapped around your partner's cock, lewdly - and loudly - slurping away, unable to resist even the slightest advance in this state. You feel your heart skip a beat as he leans down to taste that shaft, as that leaves his rear bared for you, his cute tufted lion tail already raised high, giving you a delicious view of his virgin hole. While some clients do prefer virgin mascots, it's easy enough to reset all those experiences, and you'll be just as tight either way, so the boss doesn't mind you fooling around with newcomers. It's a little perk for your loyalty, or so Bubbles tells you. So, shivering with lust, you position your tip snugly against that bare, warm flesh.

Then, with a gentle buck of your hips, you sink into him. Despite never having been on top before, your body knows just what to do, and you slide all the way into his ass in one smooth thrust, holding yourself there for a moment and simply enjoying the feeling. It doesn't excite you as much as being on the receiving end, but the allure of a warm, tight hole around your maleness is hard to deny. So you start rutting him, slowly at first, and then faster as he moans around Bubbles' cock, muffled but audibly begging for more.

Both of you pound into the freshly minted lion. Bubbles using his muzzle just as you sink under his tail. It's a wonderful kind of engulfing heat, and you realize that this is probably how your body now feels for others. His insides are just tight enough to stimulate your entire shaft, clinging to you wetly as you gradually squirt him full of your copious precum. It's heavenly, really, but what you most enjoy is knowing that you're pleasing him, your newfound mind having been primed to get off most of all to the excitement of others.

So you rut him, hard, as his wet muzzle works on the other cock, delighting in how his tailhole clenches just around your base, and then around your tip, and you can just imagine little drops of that watery precum being drawn from your tip and into his body with each smooth, milking motion. It's not long before you're approaching your climax, but you bite your lip to hold off, wanting him to get a good taste of cum before you fill him from this end.

Soon, Bubbles lets out a low, churring moan, and you hear the lion swallow eagerly as the other otter grinds against his muzzle. That's enough to push you over the edge, and you similarly hilt yourself in his ass as your balls tighten up, clutching his hips as you give those last, feverish thrusts, and then erupt, thick ottercum spurting inside him, sticking to his insides. You chirp as your orgasm overtakes you, your entire world reduced, then and there, to that heated body clutching around your shaft, and you give it everything you have. Every last rope of seed the new mascot deserves.

As is the way of things, it does end. You finish draining those swollen, bouncy balls of yours into the newest recruit, panting happily both from the pleasure and how good you know it feels for him. The process isn't complete yet, but it's a good step on the way. You love working for this company so much, you realize, as you give a final weak thrust into your newest recruit, feeling your sticky, warm cum slosh around inside him. It's such a rare treat, most of the time you know you'll be all fours, or on your back with your legs high up in the air, but there's definitely a charm to being on top too. It all depends on what the customer wants.

While every fiber of your body tells you to stay there and cuddle him, there's work you'll have to do, and so you withdraw from his body - a gush of your thick seed following, splattering out onto the floor - and start getting ready for another wonderful day at work.

You're nothing but an air-headed, soft, warm, and stretchy toy, and it feels great! What a good otter you are. There's only one thing left for you to do; rub yourself to mind-shattering climax to truly, fully submit to your new role in life. Again and again, as you wait for some lusty beast to want to use you again. Do it.