FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was the strangest feeling, a compulsion like Dynomutt had never felt before. The most unsettling part of it all was how rational it felt. He had all his faculties and his ideas seemed to be his own. All the same, he had left on his own, homing in on a set of coordinates which had occurred to him as randomly as an old memory or a tangential thought. That was, of course, how the virus covered its tracks. Dynomutt believed his actions were his own because they were. He had no way of knowing he was being manipulated.

All according to the plan for Brooke Lancer, better known as Dark Spade. A low-profile villain, a lover of jewels but advocate of pacifism, Dark Spade avoided the attention of superheroes by playing smart. It seemed delicious irony to her that she should crave the attention of a cybernetic crimefighter who most would consider a superhero, or at least the sidekick to one. But that was the way of things; Dark Spade liked expensive and rare things, not just gems and jewelry. It only stood to reason that for a pet, she would want the one-of-a-kind Dynomutt.

The first perimeter alarm sounded, and Dark Spade turned in her plush, high-backed chair. Banks of monitors showed the security feeds inside and around her hideout. There he was on the far-left monitor: the sleek emerald and chrome chassis of the one and only Dynomutt, walking carefully but determinedly through forest foliage as he homed in on the coordinates.

Second perimeter alarm. Dark Spade saw him now approaching the threshold of her lair, where a false rock face slid back to unveil a manmade cavern. Dynomutt halted at the dark entrance before brilliant spotlights started to shine from his navy-blue eyes. Guided by his lights, Dynomutt entered, and the hidden door closed behind him.

There was steel plating underneath, sturdy arched steel ceiling above, light bars spaced every thirty feet leaving shadows in the walkway. Dynomutt's metallic footfalls clanged in the tunnel, but still there was the eerie whistle of wind. But Dynomutt was a fearless hero, and as he believed, where he was going was safe and sensible. Even now, he could not possibly consider the folly of his his actions.

Dark Spade spoke over her intercom, sultry voice filling the metal tunnel: "Welcome home, Dynomutt. I've been waiting for you."

Dynomutt paused, looking up to search for the speakers which delivered the voice. Seeing nothing, he murmured, "Home?" After a moment, he continued on his way, not at all shaken but given pause.

The heroic cyborg entered into an airlock of sorts, and after a brief decontamination cycle, he was let into what seemed to be a spacious and luxurious mansion quite unlike the tunnel before it. Fine art graced the walls, display cases of tastefully-arranged jewelry on mannequins dotted its floor plan, and plush Persian rugs cushioned black tiles.

Again came Dark Spade's voice, but now closer, in person: "Turn right, Dynomutt."

Dynomutt did. The voice was compelling; Dynomutt wished to obey it. He stepped through a cozy den, bookshelves lining its walls, stuffed with tomes new and old. A fireplace crackled under a mantle decorated with still more jewelry. Several of the baubles Dynomutt recognized as stolen, and he leered at the pilfered items.

"Did you know you've got stolen merchandise in your home?" he asked, voice polite but stern.

"Well of course I do," answered Dark Spade, her voice but a room away. And now she came into view, body dressed in a royal purple nightgown, its fabric translucent. Dynomutt stared at her with an expression just vacant enough to be endearing. "You see, I stole it all myself."

Dynomutt's eyes roamed the body of Brooke Lancer, villainess. A Doberman much in the same way he was under his augmentations, but one of a black and tan coloration. Charitably she was plump; unflatteringly she could be called fat. Her beauty was impossible to deny. She strode close to Dynomutt, who rocked back and sat on his haunches.

"Excuse me, miss...?"

"Lancer, Brooke Lancer," said the Doberman amiably. "Though you may know of me as Dark Spade."

The cybernetic dog's eyes narrowed down somewhat. "Yes. I have heard of you but I can't say where from, exactly. Either way, if you're a thief, and a busy one at that, I don't have any choice but to bring you in, you understand."

Brooke grinned. She patted Dynomutt's head, ruffling his firm, metallic ears which nevertheless splayed convincingly. "That sense of justice is impeccable. So diligent, even as your directives butt up against your programming."

"What do you mean?" Dynomutt warily asked, telescoping his neck and moving his head out of her reach. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me, Miss Lancer."

The Doberman folded her arms across her heavy breasts. Her nipples poked into the nightgown's gossamer fabric, drawing Dynomutt's gaze however subtly. "Go on, then, Dynomutt. Arrest me."

Dynomutt eyed her suspiciously. Given the circumstances, he was ready to detain her and call in the police to start sifting through her stolen goods. But the more he considered it, tried to push himself to do what his justice directives expected of him, the more he found he could not. Arresting Miss Lancer seemed suddenly impossible in a way he couldn't explain to himself.

Retracting his neck, he said faintly, "I-... I can't."

Brooke smiled. She dipped low, smooched Dynomutt upon his fur-and-flesh snout, and gave the dog a glimpse into her expansive cleavage in the process. "Of course you can't. You've already been reprogrammed. Oh, don't worry - my virus won't do anything bad to you. You're still the same Dynomutt with the same rigid moral code. You simply can't leave, and you can't disobey me." She tapped his head, specifically the emerald metal plating which formed what amounted to a superhero's cowl. "Anything can be hacked with enough effort."

"You hacked me?" Dynomutt plaintively asked. "But I don't feel-, feel-, feel-." Brooke waited, grinning, trying not to giggle as the cybernetic dog suffered through a stuttering loop. "-feel any different! Except, uh, except I suppose I should want to arrest you... but I can't do that."

Brooke turned on her heel. "Come with me. You might as well get accustomed to your new home sooner rather than later."

Dynomutt followed silently. His eyes roamed Brooke's body, broad rear and short docked tail drawing his gaze just the same way her nearly nude breasts had done. This was not the doing of the virus but simply because Miss Lancer, villainess or not, was a beautiful woman. And Dynomutt, though a cyborg, was an entirely functional male with needs he rarely found an outlet for.

Brooke glanced back as she led Dynomutt through moodily-lit corridors lined with yet more of her tasteful acquisitions. "Are you staring at my behind?" she asked coyly.

"Ah, uh, nuh-, nnn-," Dynomutt murmured, unable to force out the lie. He halted in place, stammering, grunting to speak. Never before had he been troubled to lie, as lying was sometimes a requirement for a good crimefighter, disingenuous though it was.

The Doberman stopped and turned, smiling slyly. After several more seconds, Dynomutt splayed back his ears, pouted, and said "Yes." His ears perked and he said warily: "You reprogrammed me so I can't lie to you, didn't you?"

"You catch on quickly," Brooke observed, sarcasm thick in her voice. "Do you want to fuck me, Dynomutt?"

"Nnn-, nuh-," the cyborg stammered, and his cheeks lit with blush. He simply stopped talking and looked down at the floor.

"Exactly what I thought," Brooke chuckled. She turned and continued. Dynomutt followed, eyeing her bottom, her legs. The longer he stared the harder he found it not to do so, and he wondered if it was the virus at work, imprinting Brooke upon him... or if he was simply being lustful.

The hall in Brooke's hidden mansion continued, but to the west, a vast and seemingly bottomless cavern sprawled. Dynomutt, neck telescoping but body continuing along the hallway, peered over the railing and into the abyss. "This is your home...?"

"Nice view, hm?" asked Brooke, aware of the double meaning and slightly proud of herself for it. She stepped up to the railing and palmed the top of Dynomutt's head, whose body approached, neck receding with each step. "I believe it's what's left of an aquifer. I've been meaning to make use of it, but, well, I rather like the view."

Dynomutt's body caught up to his head and he sat beside Brooke. He turned to look at her and said evenly, "It's strange how calm I feel. I think I should be pretty upset right now. But I just feel so relaxed. I feel..."

"Content," Brooke offered. She smiled down at Dynomutt, then bent, kissed him on the snout. The cyborg splayed back his ears and cracked an awkward smile. "You're so cute. Even more so in person." Brooke rubbed his chin then turned and continued, and Dynomutt followed closely behind, casting one look back at the awesome view.

Past a full-featured kitchen with modern appliances, past a control room of some kind with banks of monitors and workstations, finally into the luxuriant bedroom of Dark Spade. Moody hues and oak furniture lent dignity to the room. The deep violet catsuit that was her villainess attire dressed a full-figured mannequin standing on a dais behind glass. And toward the head of the room, centered between the east and west walls, was a plush bed. Purple linen and curtains lent it the amorous hues of a love nest. Seated on the bed, as if keeping guard over it, was a plush doll of Dynomutt.

Dynomutt eyed the cuddly toy and smiled. "I didn't know they made these. I thought I was just an action figure."

"I made it myself," Brooke said, picking up the plush, its pose seated and noble. "But now that I have the real deal, I think he can guard my makeup instead of my bed."

Seated himself near the foot of the bed, Dynomutt watched Brooke as she set her plush down on her vanity. Afterward she stepped behind her dressing curtain, and a scant moment later her nightgown was draped over the curtain's top. A breath caught in Dynomutt's chest, and when Brooke stepped around the curtain he exhaled in a soft whine.

The Doberman's nude body dazzled the crimefighter. He remained seated but telescoped his neck to get a closer look at Brooke - to the point that his neck reached across the room.

Brooke laughed. She cupped Dynomutt's head in soft, fond paws, rubbing metal and fur without distinction. Dynomutt in turn drank in her nude form: the plush curves and heavy breasts and plump, black vulva between her thighs. This was what he noticed first and lingered on last, and when Brooke realized just where his blue eyes were pointed, she guided his snout into her groin.

"Oh-, ooh, wow," Dynomutt puffed, nostrils quivering against Brooke's dark spade. "Your-, your-, your smell is very-, uh, it's very..."

The Doberman grinned. "You can't lie to me, but god, it's cute watching you try. Tell me what you wanted to say. My smell is very... what?"

Dynomutt inhaled through his nostrils and his eyes rolled back, purely in pleasure, not insolence. "Your smell is so-, so-, so-," he said, speech glitching, "so gross. But that's why it's so good."

"You enjoy the smell of my vulva because it's gross," remarked Brooke, as if she were marshaling her thoughts. A smirk quirked her jowly lips. Dynomutt winced and tried to retract his head but Brooke held fast to his ears. In defeat he brought his body forward, moving along at a brisk trot until he had fully retracted his neck.

"I'm sorry if that bothers you, but, like you said, I can't lie to you."

"Why would that bother me?" asked Brooke, smiling down at her cyborg pet. She unhanded his ears and ruffled the metal between them. "I take pride in my scent. Just you wait until you smell my behind."

Dynomutt's eyes widened. He watched Brooke as she passed him and extended his neck into a horseshoe so he could study her rump as she walked. The fat curves of her ass seemed now more alluring than ever. He stood up, walked his body around into his extended neck, and followed after her. She crawled onto the bed and came to rest at its head, sitting on her pillow with thighs pursed. Dynomutt walked up after her, mindful of his metallic paws on her soft linen.

"Am I welcome up here, or only my stuffed counterpart?" he asked with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"I don't mind pets on the furniture," Brooke answered in an equally sardonic tone. She grinned, but warmth showed in her brown eyes. Dynomutt approached, stood close to her with segmented tail swishing and ears down flat. Brooke, her grin softening to a smile, kissed the pad of Dynomutt's nose. She whispered, "God, you're such a handsome boy. All those pictures I'd seen didn't do you justice."

Dynomutt nosed her cheek. "You're really this attracted to me?" he asked with a bit of wonder.

Any lingering question on the matter was quashed when Brooke kissed him - this time on the mouth, her sticky jowl-lips parting. Dynomutt reciprocated after a moment of hesitation, and he tilted his head to accommodate the Doberman. Her tongue brushed his, soft flesh caressing slick, cool metal. Brooke's eyes widened, then closed, but the corners of her maw came up in a smile.

A quiet groan came from Dynomutt and he too closed his eyes. Emboldened by Brooke, he lapped into her maw, but gently due to his metal tongue. It would have been easy for him to overpower Brooke but he took his time with the Doberman, instead caressing her tongue, letting her drool mingle with his. Her paws caressed his head and ears, then brushed along the segmented stalk of his neck. Despite being made of metal, Dynomutt's receptors were granular enough that he felt sensations as if he were made of flesh. His tail wagged in response to her touches, and he brought up a forepaw which he pressed against the mound of a breast.

Unlike a simple dog, Dynomutt had considerable dexterity in his toes, able to use them like fingers to some extent. It was this which allowed him to grope Brooke's breast, and he swirled a claw around her nipple. To this, Brooke moaned and slid her paws over his angular, armored breast.

"You're flawless," crooned Brooke around a mouthful of metallic tongue. She looked into his eyes, delirious lust in her gaze. It was an odd sight to Dynomutt, the cybernetic crimefighter who had met his share of admirers and gotten a few gentle pats, but never had he been fawned over, lusted after. All thoughts of his righteous purpose were pushed aside, and he thought only of how he could satisfy his mistress, the beautiful Dark Spade.

Brooke licked along his tongue's length and into his maw. The details of his construction astounded her, from his teeth to the ridges of his palate. Even his metal tongue was convincingly lifelike in movement and manner. She slid her paws over more and more of him, pawing at him like a lustful virgin on her special night. Lovers had come before Dynomutt, but none of them could compare to him. From the first moment she had seen him in a TV broadcast, her love had been complete and total. And now he was hers.

The Doberman freed herself of the kiss, leaving herself and her pet huffing softly. Dynomutt leaned into her breast, allowing metallic pawpads to rub across pliant tit flesh. Reverence laced his voice when he cooed, "I've never-, never-, never been with a woman. I think you should know that."

She smiled and pecked his snout with her slobbery lips, leaving an imprint of drool on his face. On her own, as a villainess, Brooke was partial to sarcasm; the crueler, the better. Dynomutt was different, and she found it impossible to be mean when she peered at his cool, blue eyes. "There's no reason to be ashamed of that. It pleases me, in fact."

"Does it?"

Brooke rubbed the crimefighter's chin, stroked his segmented neck, and then gently pushed him over on his side. With Dynomutt lying prone, the villainess caressed the angular plates of his chest, moving lower then to the plane of his belly. In the interest of anatomical correctness, perhaps to allow the canine crimefighter to truly feel male, Dynomutt sported a soft sheath and a smooth scrotum to go with it. As she cupped his cybernetic gonads, he groaned and shut his eyes. A shudder passed through his body.

"It pleases me greatly to be your first and only lover," Brooke growled. "It's only fitting that I should be the one to take your virginity. Nobody else in the entire world would cherish it as much as I."

"I-I don't-, don't-, don't-," Dynomutt stuttered. "I don't exactly know what to do..."

That the ordinarily eloquent and confident Dynomutt stammered so much for her thrilled the villainess. "I'll guide you," she said softly. Her paw cupped his sheath, a fuzzy and soft thing, organic like much of his head.

The chubby Doberman nosed the orifice of Dynomutt's sheath. His scent was surprisingly pungent, the sheath itself slick with the same thin mucous one would find on a fully organic dog. Clutching the fuzzy tube, Brooke slid her tongue inside and the canine hero groaned with lust. He bleated, "Oh-, oh, that feels good."

"Doesn't it," murmured Brooke, docked tail wiggling over her heart-shaped rear. She swabbed her tongue in once more and brushed it across the snoozing cockflesh down inside. Except it was waking up already, pushing its way free and spurting precum. The Doberman watched, huffing, as Dynomutt's cock first peeked out like lipstick; then it emerged steadily, eight, perhaps nine inches of wholly organic red rocket making itself seen.

"My god," Brooke whispered. She kissed his pulsing, varicose cock. "It's huge. It's beautiful."

The cybernetic canine brushed a paw against Brooke's head. He did so softly, fondly. "Do you really like it?" he asked, both grinning and blushing.

"I love it, my pet," Brooke sighed. She nuzzled its length and gained a smear of musky mucous and discarded precum. The richly canine odor of the cyborg's genitals delighted Brooke, whose only concern when hacking him had been that his body might lack a natural musk. Having found out that he was fully-featured in that regard cemented her love for the crimefighter. She crooned, "You're perfect, Dynomutt. Ideal in every way."

"Thank you," Dynomutt said quietly. Brooke's approval thrilled him; his tail beat against the bed.

The Doberman noted the bulbous mass of the cyborg's knot. It was caught in his sheath, a problem she had observed in many of her canine lovers. Firmly she gripped his sheath and tugged it downward; at first Dynomutt gasped in pain, but when his sheath cleared the bulb of his knot, he shuddered and relaxed once again.

Brooke peppered kisses on the bulb. The whole shaft smelled strongly of genital musk and her nostrils often flared as she drank in his scent. Her plush black vulva dribbled moisture onto the bed.

"I want this inside of me," she grumbled, nose on his knot. But quickly she put her attention to his balls, plump black things, hairless and hot. She wrapped sticky jowl-lips around one gonad and suckled it while her cyborg pet gasped and awkwardly bucked his hips.

"B-Brooke!" Dynomutt cried. "That feels unbelievably good...!"

The villainess grinned broadly. She pecked only a kiss on the other gonad; no need to rush, she had all the time in the world to sample him now that he belonged to her. "If you enjoyed that, you'll love this. Both of us will. Stand, please."

Although compelled to do what she said no matter what, Dynomutt was happy to oblige her, this lovely woman who had already given him so much pleasure. When he was again on all fours, he asked her with his ears somewhat splayed, "Now what?"

"Now? A friendly sniff," Brooke declared. Already on her knees, she brushed his hip and coaxed him to maneuver so that his hindquarters faced her. Her paw clutched the segmented metal of his tail and held it gently aloft; and there, framed by more thinly furred flesh as on his belly and snout, was the puckered hole of his anus. Brooke truly had no idea why he was so equipped, given that he lacked a digestive tract; but when she touched her nose to its pink flesh and sampled the cyborg's anal musk, she found she didn't much care why. A shudder wracked her chubby body and she moaned into his metal and flesh hindquarters.

Dynomutt brought his head around on his telescoping neck. He bumped her side and she rubbed his head; he nosed her tit and sighed. "You, uh, like that?" he asked, watching as her nostrils flared. It was a queer pleasure, having his anus snuffled. Other, organic dogs on four legs had done it to him, of course, and in a fit of instinct he had done it right back. He had never seen the sexual value of it until this moment. Seeing the euphoria it brought Brooke made him say slyly, "This seems like more than a friendly sniff."

"Ah, mm," Brooke huffed and murmured, looking and sounding like she was high and absentminded. "You-, uh, your scent is wonderful, Dynomutt." She pulled back and eyed his tight rim. The scent still clung to her nostrils and filled her sinuses. With a sigh she pushed her lips to the rim and smacked a wet, suckling kiss; Dynomutt moaned softly, then gasped at its conclusion. Following her suckle, his hole briefly throbbed.

"God, wow," Dynomutt shuddered. He licked Brooke's cheek and she turned, kissed him, locked her lips with his for a fine, brief moment. He tasted his genital and anal musk on her breath and cracked a grin. "Your breath-, breath-, breath smells nice, Brooke." Gently, for he was quite strong, he pushed her onto her side. He growled, "How about my friendly sniff?"

The Doberman was grinning and blushing when she obliged her pet. Lying on her side, she clutched at her fat, two-toned ass and pulled up a cheek. Sweat glistened in her crack and on her snug pink anus. "Be very friendly, my pet," she cooed. "As friendly as you like, in fact."

It would have been trivial to nose right into her crack. Dynomutt took the time to step parallel to her, so that his penis was in easy reach for a kiss or a stroke. With his telescoping neck, he made another horseshoe and he parked his handsome snout between her fat ass cheeks. Rich anal musk assaulted his senses; he shuddered and snorted, nostrils flaring, cock pulsing and leaking.

"Good boy," Brooke breathed. She let go of her ass and clutched the big red rocket hanging from the cyborg's belly. She pulled it and guided him by it until he stood over top of her needy face. With a moan she gulped it down, nose bumping the knot, tongue encircling the throbbing meat. As Dynomutt snuffled and gingerly rimmed her, she gulped on his cock and moaned like a whore.

A shuddering moan shook the cyborg's body. He hiked a hind leg in a manner of an organic dog readying to mark his territory. A dreamy quality entered his smile, turning it to a lusty grin. His cool nose dug into Brooke's anus, nostrils flaring as they filled with her humid scent. The plush mass of her vulva was close enough that it polluted the rich anal musk which he inhaled, but her ass was where he lingered. Precum trickled from his cock and Brooke greedily swallowed every drop. He murmured into her broad, heart-shaped ass, "Your smell is very-, very-, very alluring..."

The Doberman gurgled her approval. She gulped on the shaft and pawed at the knot, squeezing it like she meant to juice it. The crimefighter groaned into her ass crack, braced his hoisted foot on the bed, and awkwardly bucked into her maw. He could only bump his knot into her nose, but he did it gladly, making his balls swing with the effort.

Dynomutt's thrusts, no matter how stunted they were, delighted the villainous Doberman. She touched herself, knowing what she'd find, yet even still the sheer wetness of her plush and spongy vulva was almost embarrassing. She burbled around the heroic cyborg's fat, red cock and she knew she needed more than to just taste him. Gripping his knot, she pulled her head back, and for a moment lingered beneath him as his precum drizzled over her snout. She said softly, "God, but you're a perfect pet. And now it's time for you to truly satisfy me."

He slid his nose out of her ass crack, dragged it over one of her cheeks. As her anal scent thinned until all that remained was what he had ground into his snout, he asked her warmly, "What would you ask of your pet?"

"I think you know," the villainess cooed. She sat up, cupped the cyborg's head, and pecked several lingering kisses on his musk-tinged lips. "Mm, you smell wonderful."

The crimefighter grinned. "Thanks to you, I do."

Brooke grinned back. She rubbed him between the ears, then made herself comfortable on her paws and knees. Dynomutt studied her, breathing heavily. Her fat, sweaty ass held the greatest allure still, but he did indeed know what she expected of him. As he stepped over her, he brought his head around so he could see the action. He did this both for practical reasons and self-indulgence; Brooke chuckled, "Watching yourself get laid, that's some strange kind of voyeurism."

Dynomutt didn't bother trying to lie. "This is new territory for me. I just-, just-, just-"

"I'm teasing you, my pet," she said. "Do what you wish... just get to it."

Blushing and smiling, Dynomutt moved closer, pressing his cool steel frame to her back. He watched as his pointed cock notched into the folds of her vulva, then slipped inside. He thought it must be painful, the way her spade widened so dramatically, but she moaned for him and her legs drifted further apart.

The humid pink within Brooke's vulva held him tightly. It was both tight and welcoming, seemed to beckon him deeper, and Dynomutt was only too happy to oblige such loving muscles. He retracted his neck as he no longer needed the vantage point, but soon found himself telescoping it again. This time he kissed the Doberman of his own initiative. His tongue slunk past her lips, cool steel brushing and gently entangling with warm pink flesh.

His knot bumped Brooke's spade. The villainess moaned for him and she wriggled her bottom against him. Vaginal muscles which were already naturally tight squeezed tighter still; Dynomutt groaned into Brooke's maw, musky lips exchanging flavors, eyes locking in blossoming love.

Fucking Brooke came naturally to Dynomutt. He wasn't even sure what exactly he was doing at first; he just felt his hips wanting to buck like a jackhammer. He let them do it. It felt incredible to have his cock slip in and out of the villainous Doberman; his tail curled, his anus clenched, and he breathed heavily into her maw.

"Uh, good boy, good," Brooke burbled, her words clumsy and indistinct with her fleshy tongue tangled into Dynomutt's silvery metal one. Her eyelids fluttered down and she began touching herself. At first she cupped one of her heavy, softly bobbing breasts, and tweaked its stiff nipple. She was still shuddering from it when she slid her paw south.

Dynomutt's knot beat against her plump peach. A slurry of vaginal secretions and precum dribbled from its folds. She played with her clitoris which Dynomutt's virginal lovemaking wasn't satisfying. Having to pick up the slack didn't bother her at all; the villainess loved her new pet far too much to be disappointed in his performance.

As the sex quickened, the kiss tapered off. Dynomutt panted near her snout, murmuring between his needy breaths, "I-I feel-, feel something amazing coming, I don't-, don't-"

"Don't worry about it, just keep going," Brooke blurted. Her chubby body was trembling, fat jiggling beneath shiny fur. She pushed her broad ass back into his humping thrusts; a reedy whine rose from her chest and she cried, "Oh, get that knot inside of me! Get it in, Dynomutt!"

He didn't know exactly what a knot was but he guessed it was the thickest part of his penis. There seemed to be so many nerve endings there, and it felt like it was enormous. He was almost afraid of trying to fit something so big into his mistress, but an order was an order, and some part of him wanted to get that fat bulb inside of her too.

The cyborg hunched over Brooke. With his superior mechanical physique he fucked her without fatigue and with considerable strength. The sound of the sex was sucking and wet; but the Doberman was noisy, almost hysterical with lust as she held onto Dynomutt's forelegs and nuzzled into the bed. She whimpered to him, "Oh, fuck, baby, get it inside! Get it inside of me!"

"I'm trying-, trying-, trying to!" Dynomutt stammered, even his thrusting skipping like a record for several repetitions. His knot beat her vulva like a fist pounding a door; but finally it pressed so hard that it popped past the plush black lips and was enveloped in the wet pink within. The cyborg's eyes opened wide and he gasped, fell against his mistress. "Oh-, oh my gosh," he shuddered. It was the last thing he managed to say before he let go.

Hot seed jetted into Brooke's waiting sex. It filled her in the most satisfying manner possible, for she had eyes only for the heroic, handsome crimefighter. She groaned as his cum entered her, "Fuck, good boy! Good boy, Dynomutt!"

Whimpering and quivering, Brooke humbly joined Dynomutt in climax. She rubbed his legs, squeezed them, panted into the sheets. Her head was down but her big ass was perked up and out, mashed into Dynomutt's loins. An excess of both semen and vaginal secretions oozed along the lower edge of her vulva; she said with a sigh, "Simply perfect, Dynomutt... exactly the kind of satisfaction I expected from you."

"Uh, I just-, just-, just did something, but I'm not sure what," the cyborg mumbled. But he was smiling dreamily, and he understood that whatever it was he'd just accomplished, it was special. And he also knew that he wanted to do it again, but not just yet.

"Such a valiant crimefighter," Brooke sighed, "yet so, so naive. I have so much to teach you." She laid down flat and Dynomutt, with little choice in the matter, moved to stay flush with her. He nuzzled her head and she kissed him gingerly. "I love you, Dynomutt."

A smile crested on his blushing snout. "I love you too, Brooke," he said, unable to lie.