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Peegus

Kopa fluttered his towel forward and down over his lap, taking a moment to lean his head back and let out a smooth, relaxed sigh. A little twitch and shiver bounced through his body, both from the lingering strain and stretch of his workout as well as from the pleasure now, muscles releasing and relaxing, body sinking in an enjoying the sensations... and then there was a bit more to it, too.

The leopard had intentionally picked this spot in the locker rooms near the back corner, though kept himself turned so that anyone walking by would be able to see. Another twitch bounced up from his lower body, and his legs clamped in together - and around the figure who lifted the front of his towel where he sat, the distinct shape of a head bobbing, rolling, working in place there between his thighs, lifting and shifting the fabric, every now and then adding a slurp and suck to the sound of the showers all around.

Again Kopa sighed and leaned back, fingers gripping the edge of the bench on which he sat. His towel started to unfold and slip down his lap, but this time he made no move to tug it back into place, though certainly his visitor here preferred the enclosed, tighter space, where scent and sweat remained caught and swirling. Cool air trickled down between the leopard's thighs, and this time when he shifted he ensured that that towel fell free - and immediately caught, at the edge of his vision, another of the gymgoers pausing and looking over.

So instead of looking down at their point of interest, he rolled his head on his shoulders and turned to watch the onlookers, just as they watched him. Or, rather, as they watched this otter between his thighs, nose shoved up against the base of his sheath matted and slick with gathered sweat, lips pulling and nipping and sucking between the leopard's hanging balls, loose and free with the warmth and exertion of his workout. Again and again the otter nuzzled up, dug in, and rolled that supple skin and flesh over his lips and chin, one of Kopa's balls coming up and then drifting down, then the other joining it on that side.

The onlooker, a tall black wolf, stopped and let his mouth drop open. Green eyes flashed from Kopa, to Lukas between his legs, back to Kopa, and then down to where the otter focused - and Kopa reached down with a paw to tug his nose into place there, working it back and forth alongside his moist sheath before releasing to let Lukas get back to his own rhythm.

And so the otter did, completely oblivious or just plain ignorant of the audience. The wolf frowned, looked around, and then continued on, and Kopa turned back to watch his own little wind-down session here. Lukas pulled back, let a shivering, humid sigh out from between barely-parted lips, and then dove back in again, this time with his broad tongue out and curled. The leopard squirmed and pushed himself closer to the edge of the bench, intentionally letting his sack hang off and drape down, heavy balls tugging at loose skin, so that Lukas could come forward and heft his tongue beneath one, between each, under the other.

The sensation of that tongue and then his lips soon after curling, dancing, sucking one of his balls up and into his muzzle, made him twitch and squirm again. Kopa licked his lips and rolled his head on his shoulders, lifting up and away from the bench to let Lukas slide in closer to the root of his sack and sheath with his sucking, sweat- and saliva-soaked skin and fur nestled tight between tongue and lips.

Such a sensation that was - through half-lidded eyes Kopa noticed the wolf peek back around the aisle of lockers again - to feel the pull and suction, the warmth and wetness of the otter's mouth around first just the skin, and then one of his balls, and then... Lukas had to adjust his angle and poke and prod and guide with a pair of fingers, but then the second popped in as well, filling his cheeks, bloating them out. That made Kopa kick one of his legs and rumble deep in his chest, once more grinding forward to squeeze the otter's nose in against the base of his sheath, full and plump, arousal coaxed halfway out already.

If he could already smell himself from his workout, then Lukas certainly could too, nostrils flared, eyes closed, tongue constantly working and swirling, suckling at both of his balls nestled in and rolling within his mouth. Thick globs of saliva clung to already-wet fur and dribbled down Lukas's chin and the back of Kopa's sack, tugged and sucked away from his body; the otter swallowed - Kopa shifted as he felt the pressure from that, tongue squeezing him up against the roof of his mouth - and then drew back again, tugging, pulling, stretching that supple skin already loosened from warmth and exertion to its limit, before the leopard's balls slid free and instead left loose skin and thick fur between his lips. So he tugged some more, swallowed again, sucked the slime, sweat, and saliva back off from Kopa's sack, and let it drop free from his lips.

Again the leopard shifted, wiggling his hips side to side so that his dripping balls swung gently in the open air beneath the bench. There was more than just the black wolf standing there now, as a maned wolf had joined as well, arms crossed in front of his chest and an unimpressed expression on his face. This expression quickly changed, though, when Lukas came forward again, slid his tongue up between the leopard's hanging balls, and then sucked both of them back into his mouth again.

Kopa smirked, then reached down to rub his sheath in against the otter's nose. Already the skin there glistened with gathered sweat and scent; he could feel him pull in a breath, swallow around his balls, and then nuzzle in even closer when he did this, jaw pressing into that lovely spot just behind his sack. Lukas slurped and suckled, tongue slipping out to drag beneath and up again...

Kopa spread his legs wide and rested back, paws once more gripping the edge of the bench. They would have to take this into the showers.

Ruari

The striped hyena sighed as she stretched out, legs on either side of her, tail back for as much support as she could get. One arm went over her head towards that footpaw, and the other reached along smooth thigh, tight calf, down and further... and fingers came down over toes and she held that pose for a while, squeezing gently without forcing it, letting herself relax and come to an easy, restful position. Then, satisfied, she rose back to her original position and moved to do the same for the other side.

Naturally, doing this had become easier over time and with consistency and practice, so that now she could move through the forms without much thought or concentration. That helped the whole thing, too: relaxation and freedom of movement, the banishment of tension and stress, a smooth, easy exploration of her limits and boundaries and, of course, constantly pushing past and through those boundaries. Expanding flexibility, in mind and in body.

She came upright again and let a slow, steady breath out through parted lips, then brought it right back in through her nose - but then paused and held still, quiet music still playing at its own rhythm from the speaker up on the shelf. The hyena tilted her head up and back, sniffed again, frowned, opened her eyes... then realized just what it was she was smelling, and this time leaned forward and down.

And she kept on going, moving right in to the next form - legs out at either side of her, arms stretching forward across the mat with paws out and flat. That scent, warm and familiar, swirled up and around the further she bent, and she tilted her head down towards the source of it. Sharp and clear, heavier as she folded in over herself, angling her head down between her shoulders, chin to her breasts... and she couldn't help but draw it in, again and again. Sleek, elastic gym shorts tugged and shifted comfortably around her thighs and, of course, the source of that scent.

She couldn't help it. Ruari remained there, eyes closed and nostrils flared as she drew in her own musk from the warm bulge nestled there in the front of those shorts, so close to her muzzle from this angle yet not quite there. Sweet warmth turned to a deeper, richer sting, undeniably full... gradually she lifted back upright again, but this time instead of sliding into the next form - which would require her to flip over onto her belly and lift her shoulders up off the mat - she rolled down onto her back, spread her legs again, wrapped an arm down beneath both of her knees... and then, using that for leverage with her other arm against the mat, lifted her lower body up and over herself.

It took some adjustment and shifting to get there, but once she did Ruari could immediately see and feel the difference that her stretches and exercises had made. That soft weight within her shorts dangled down over her muzzle, tantalizingly close, thick scent dripping down and around her nose and muzzle... she swallowed, stretched her head up a bit, drew in another taste of that musk, and then with two well-place thumbs, slid beneath the waistband of her shorts and tugged them along her legs, panties beneath sliding along smooth fur as well.

She actually blinked and flinched a little bit, then, when she freed herself from the confines of those shorts, thick shaft and sack flopping down into the open air just half an inch away from her muzzle. The hyena swallowed again and twitched her nose, already able to feel the dense heat suffusing the air here, thick and humid, intoxicating. Such a familiar scent, indulgent, rich and sharp... she wriggled her legs in closer over her head, felt her toes brush against the mat beneath her and up over her shoulders, and pushed there.

She just couldn't help it. Her tongue slid out of her mouth, she swallowed, drew in another breath through her nose, let it out along that dripping tongue... and with a forefinger and thumb reached in, squeezed the hanging end of soft, supple foreskin, moist along the inside, stretchy and thick, and tugged it down towards herself. A little bit greasy, somewhat sweaty... heavily infused with that scent, its presence already having an effect on her.

Yoga and stretching forgotten for now other than the warm pressure building along her back from being so bent over herself like this, Ruari tilted her nose up and dragged along the sleek, humid interior surface of that supple skin. In here that scent swirled the strongest, pink flesh within glistening with constant moisture, a thin layer of scent and slickness that clung to her nose when she uncurled from herself a bit.

Once more the hyena swallowed and sighed, nose and throat already full with her own musk. Gradually she peeled her foreskin back, shivered as the heat of her scent palpably dribbled down and around her muzzle, then rolled it forward again, and this time used both paws to tug that sleek skin down and over her nose. A little bit more of a push accompanied by her lifting her head, and she closed her eyes, swallowed once more... and then sealed that stretched skin against her nose, natural dampness and warmth sealing it against her nose.

From here it wasn't hard at all to slip her tongue up and along her underside as well, half-hard from indulging in herself, heat and sharp scent filling her nose and trickling down her throat. After another moment Ruari pulled free with an audible suck and pop as that crown of skin rolled back again, and this time she angled herself down, swirled her tongue beneath the ridged rim of wrinkled nerves, and drew that thin layer of slickness off to replace it with saliva instead. Immediately scent turned to taste and dripped in along her tongue, filling her mouth as well as her nose, and she squeezed herself in a little closer, a little tighter. If she pinched that supple skin between a forefinger and thumb, rolled forward, and tugged, she could just about nip her lips down around it...

That was new, too. Ruari swallowed, then had to do so again to get that resilient stickiness down her throat. The stretching up to this point made it much more comfortable to maintain, and she imagined that if she wrapped her arms down around her lower body, pulled herself in a little further, and felt her foreskin roll back between her lips and over her tongue... maybe she would be able to forego the rest of her stretching session in light of this new, much more indulgent position.

Daet Wolfuar

Marc trailed a little bit behind as the two pored through the department, the dragon constantly nervous and wary about bumping against the racks or knocking things off of shelves. That had always been the case for him with his build, and a big factor in why he often walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders forward, and his head down, and then especially with his tail curled down and around his ankles as he went.

He was envious of Ryan, here, ahead of him. The much smaller, shorter, and overall slimmer mouse as he strode back and forth, investigating this sale, thumbing through that pile of clothing... what made it worse, of course, was that they were in the women's section, and that it seemed Ryan was looking specifically at the larges and extra-larges.

Which meant, if Marc had learned anything about him since the mouse had roped, reined, tugged, yanked, and otherwise manhandled the much bigger dragon at last night's party, he was looking at things for him. For Marc. He watched as Ryan picked up a pair of blue panties, stretched them out on his thumbs, peered closer at them, then shook his head and dropped them back onto the shelf.

The dragon cleared his throat and stepped a little closer - then flung halfway around when he felt his tail thump against the foot of one of the freestanding racks beside him. A loud clatter and a few heart-pounding seconds later, he had managed to keep it from tumbling over. Further down the row the little mouse looked back at him, half-veiled amusement curling his lips as he looked through another color.

"Ryan..." the dragon murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to stand out any more. "I don't think we should be here."

"Yeah?" This set also failed to satisfy the mouse. He scoffed and turned again to look at the other side. "Why's that?"

"I mean, we're..."

"Guys?" Sharp eyes flashed up at him, just as they had done last night. All of that seemed to have come and gone in a haze, though Marc had specifically avoided drinking at all. A big, shy, nervous wreck, out of place at a party like that, really there just since he'd heard someone had brought free cupcakes. And then Ryan had been there, and Marc remembered they had had a few group projects together, so he kind of gravitated his way as being the only person he recognized there, and... "Come on, dude. Why do you think these pants fit me so fuckin' well? They're women's jeans."

That they did. The mouse slid his thumbs beneath his waistband, hiked those pants up a bit, and then leaned forward and stuck his rump out before Marc behind him. Immediately the dragon blushed again, one hand out and reaching forward almost in reflex, the other still in his pocket. Still the trail of events from last night rolled and rocketed through his head: how Ryan had tugged his shorts down right there in the hallway and rubbed and squeezed and tugged, pushing through the dragon's anxiety and nervousness to get him fully hard even though he could see the other partygoers just around the corner; how he had guided him back to the room, and pushed him back to the bed, and then...

Here in the store, the mouse scoffed, rolled his eyes, and reached back for Marc's hands, forcibly tugging them forward to cup his rump - again. Last night had been Marc's first time doing anything like that, with anyone, and it had been with another guy, and... he swallowed, licked his lips, and squeezed at the still mostly unfamiliar feeling of this mouse's rump, soft and plush, plump, delightful. He still couldn't really believe how _good_it had felt, to first have Ryan's lips and tongue dancing back and forth across and down his length where previously he had felt only his hand. Then the way the mouse had straightened up, wiped his lips, and turned around, showing his sleek and slim back as he first removed his shirt, then moved on to his pants as well... the same pants he wore today.

Marc couldn't help but cup his hands down and to the side, squeezing in, wrapping his fingers fully along Ryan's waist, and then briefly tugging the mouse back and against him. This pulled a surprised squeak out of the rodent, and for a moment Marc almost thought that Ryan was the one to blush just then - but as soon as it was there, it disappeared again, replaced by a satisfied smirk and a firm press back into his lap.

Right here, out in the open, at a department store in the mall. Marc realized what he was doing and jerked back, hands up and frequently looking around himself to see if anyone had noticed.

"My, my," Ryan teased, straightening back up again. His eyes drifted down the dragon's front. "Already that eager to go again? What happened to the shy virgin boy I wrangled last night?"

Wrangled indeed. Marc could easily, _literally_throw this mouse as far as he could see, and yet Ryan had definitely been the one in control last night. From the paws on his knees first, bearing down as he lined up and sank down; to the sweet, hot moisture and pressure squeezing all around him, unlike anything he had felt before; and then the steady yet intensifying rhythm in his lap, up and down forward and back... and then he had come up, turned around, and clamped down on the dragon's shoulders, and between that and the sleek, supple rump pumping against his hips, Marc had been unable to move.

Maybe not unable, but certainly unwilling. He blushed again and looked back to Ryan before him. The mouse grinned and tucked a pair of green panties beneath his arm.

"I found what I'm looking for," he said, then winked at Marc before him. "And I also found the panties. Let's go. We did say we were gonna meet them at the food court at two. C'mon." After a moment, though, he had to look back over his shoulder at the dragon still standing here with his hands in front of his chest and tail wrapped around his ankles, embarrassment stilling his feet.

"What?" Ryan said, head tilted. He waited for Marc to meet his gaze. "Am I gonna have to get you in the collar and leash again whenever we go out? Come on."

LomiDePuzlo

---

Sarah squirmed where she lay atop the stone altar, a little bit uncomfortable out here in the open like this. Not for her nudity - that wasn't unusual in the slightest - but rather for the steady chill of mid-autumn that threaded through the air, especially now after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon and gave way to silent, still night, the sky overhead between the garden trees blue-black and almost entirely devoid of stars. She ran her hands down across her body, flattening the sections of her pelt matted down from the short trek through the trees, and then back up again to try to retain at least some of her warmth... but, just as soon as she had wrapped them around her bare chest, another pair of hands from above reached down and set them back at her sides.

The caribou craned her head up and back to look into Linde's eyes. The dragonkin stood over her, a smirk on her face and glimmer in her warm eyes. Linde was the leader here, after all: the matron, the denmother, whatever it might have been. She wore a simple black cloth shawl over her head and shoulders, the trail of which hung down to cover her smooth breasts, and then a little thigh-length skirt settled around her waist - then nothing else.

Down at her legs stood another member of the coven, as well as another friend. Anya, too, stood fully naked, the young bovine looking only slightly embarrassed with the situation. Her eyes met Sarah's down on the altar - which was itself just another stone bench of the same type that waited back in the courtyard. She didn't mind, though: Linde had really nailed the atmosphere out here, though it was getting a bit cold. As Sarah understood, though, that might very well change soon.

As if able to read her thoughts, the dragonkin held her arms up to the sky between the trees - which in turn drew her shawl away from those sleek, pert breasts, lifting up a bit with her arms. "The initiation shall now begin," she intoned, then looked first to Anya at Sarah's feet, and finally down to the caribou herself. "You will remain where you are," she instructed, "and receive all that is given to you."

Sarah swallowed and nodded. There was a familiar scent on the air, warm and burgeoning, so familiar - and it had its own effect on her, too. Linde slid her shawl back into place and then lifted herself up to come over across the alter along Sarah's head, legs spread, skirt partially lifted - where the caribou quickly found and identified the source of that scent, exactly as she had suspected. Sweet arousal glittered and glistened between the dragonkin's thighs, as she wore nothing beneath this skirt of hers. One hand reached forward to lift it in front while the other went back behind Sarah's head, both for balance along the edge of the bench as well as to lift her head up and forward, nose coming close to the underside of her tail, lips drawing in the warmth of her body... and Sarah spread her own legs as well, to make room for the other member between them.

Linde smirked down at her, pressed herself into place - Sarah felt her clench and pucker against her lips - and then... the leader of the group tilted her head back, sighed, and relaxed, and in another moment the warm trickle of the so-called "unholy baptism" she had mentioned earlier started out along her chin. Sarah busied herself with pursing her lips against this wrinkled pucker of skin, flicking her tongue out, teasing and tapping and sucking gently, all the while Linde sighed and settled into place, one hand coming in to spread her rump and work herself further down onto the caribou's muzzle.

While this went on her stream strengthened and arced up, spraying out and down her chin, her shoulders, her breasts. Scent wafted around and filled the little clearing in the woods, wrapping Sarah firmly in the also-familiar sharp odor of fresh mark; she shifted her legs, felt Anya lift up and forward, and though she couldn't quite see her through how Linde used her face as a seat for her release, she could imagine the way the cow bit her lip, swallowed, let her eyes flutter shut... and then started herself as well, a second spray splashing up along the stone surface of the alter between her thighs, then quickly strengthening and angling up.

Sarah couldn't help but sigh up and underneath Linde's tail at that sensation, Anya's piss trailing out and across her own bared lips and clit, soaking her in rich, intoxicating heat and scent, all the while she continued lapping and kissing at the dragonkin above her. She was told to remain in place and keep her arms where they were, so she did, but still she curled her tongue forward and down, teasing at that loose, wet, silken flesh in front. Linde shifted and angled herself a bit more, pressing down against the caribou's snout and moving one hand to spread her lips, allowing that stream to tighten and empty out across her breasts and chest further. From here Sarah could feel the steady drip and dribble of spilled mark as it poured out across her chin and cheeks, wetting her lips and tongue.

Linde made sure she did not stay here, though. She angled herself back again, pressing her rump down along the caribou's face, and this time intentionally sprayed and turned he aim back and forth across Sarah's chest and belly, while she felt Anya do the same. The cow was a little more shy and reserved about the whole thing but still went through with it, guiding Sarah's legs into place so she could paint her pelt and coat her in scent and mark until, finally, she dribbled to a finish. Linde continued on for some time more but then finished off as well, but instead of draw away from the altar she just huffed softly, leaned forward, and pressed her rump back against the caribou's lips and nose.

Sarah twitched as she felt her breath tickle between her legs. First one finger came in against sensitive flesh, then a second, and... she had to grit her teeth to keep from tightening her thighs around Linde's head, as her tongue flicked out as well.

"You know," Linde purred, "the baptism requires that _you_give some of your own as well."

Sarah pulled herself away from her rump with a soft pop_as gently suckling lips pulled free from wrinkled skin. "I - don't really have to, right now... _ah-"

_ _

There was that tongue again. Linde pushed her rump back again.

"Then we'll just have to wait here until you do."

Iri

Sharp yellow eyes ringed in rich red, both natural coloration, deliberately angled away whenever the attendant tried to lean in to meet them. The Luxray standing atop the grooming table held a strong, determined pose, front legs apart and footpaws splayed, shoulders back and head high, long star-ended tail lashing and swinging around as she was subjected to this certainly humiliating inspection.

Not receptive to instruction, the form said. The attendant sighed and went back over to the counter against the wall so he could take one more look at it. Down at the bottom was an extra note from his supervisor, written in the little box specially reserved for such things: Sending this one your way, Iri. You've got a special way with uppity Pokémon. We need this client!

_ _

The customer, this beautiful girl's trainer, waited outside the room in the main portion of the clinic ironing out the rest of the details, while Iri here was to go through an inspection - if she would only let him. She avoided his gaze when he tried to stare her down, but as soon as he stepped around towards her other side he felt those sharp eyes immediately latch onto him, judging and appraising him in turn as he tried to do the same to her. At least she hadn't attacked yet - but then again, for her it was a matter of pride. That was why she stood tall with her chin up like this, and nostrils flared in stiff, impatient huffs, tension visible in her muscles of her lower body and hindlegs.

"Hmm." Iri tapped his claws against the surface of the table, only briefly drawing the Pokémon's attention before she turned away from him again. "Think you're in charge, don't you? The big, beautiful Luxray. You're perfect, and you don't need to change. Not for your Trainer, not for me, not for my boss... isn't that right?"

As he walked around her backside the Luxray turned her head the other way, deliberately avoiding looking at him. That was good. It allowed Iri to move right ahead with his plan: he seized the base of her lion's tail, squeezed it between his fingers and thumb, and hiked it sharply upward, his other hand coming forward to hold one of her hindpaws down against the surface of the table. Surprised and startled, the Luxray bristled and immediately began to fizzle with little lances of electricity, her natural defense mechanism - but Iri stopped her before she could go any further with it. Hand in place at the base of her tail, he slid his other up towards her rump, dug his thumb in to the thick fur there, then... pressed and tugged, and smiled as he heard and felt as well as saw the puckered skin of her tailhole there part open, thick strands of sticky slime and gathered stink pulling open.

"Oh, yes," the dragon murmured, and leaned in to dig his nose right into the center of that spot. Around him the Pokémon's electricity fizzled away, and he felt her straighten up around his muzzle. "That's _exactly_what I thought. All of you high-and-mighty Pokémon, you who stand so proud and self-assured..." He rolled his muzzle side to side, the natural stickiness back beneath her tail soaking and sucking along his scales and fur, making his nose curl and furrowing his brow with the stench. Rich and pungent, acrid and sharp, sweat and musk wrapped together and left to ferment. "...who haven't the slightest idea how to groom properly."

Before him the Luxray squirmed and tried to tug away, a low rumble in her throat, but still he held her in place. "Ah - no, ma'am," he purred, his breath wafting out and then curling back in around himself, thickened by her scent dripping from her fur back here. "It's my job to get you all cleaned up and presentable, and... well, I've certainly got my work cut out for me, huh? You - stink, I just... want to..."

What had started as teasing - he could feel her embarrassment and humiliation in the stiff legs, tight muscles, lashing tail - had become genuine interest, then, as the dragon nuzzled deeper, running his nose back and forth over the wrinkled pucker of her tailhole. Once there he lifted up, pressed his lips against that ring of muscle, parted them... and swirled his tongue out and over the layer of grime and slime, nose curling further with the sensation and taste of the stuff. There in place he settled and sucked, hand slipping away from her tail to work down along into his pants.

Deeper and deeper the dragon went, shifting from swirling his tongue around her rim to pressing it in, muscles squeezing and clenching in protest around him yet still letting him in - and each time he pulled back he still sucked and swallowed, drawing out more of that interior slime and slickness. The Luxray ceased her resistance and now shivered and shuddered against him, caught between humiliation and pleasure. She reflexively pushed and squeezed back against him, interior muscles folding his tongue right back out into his own mouth, coated and dripping with the same juices that dripped and rolled down his chin...

...and then along the end of his shaft when he straightened up, yanked her by the tail, and pressed his length up into her, using that combination of saliva and slime to ease his way in. The Luxray stiffened and tossed her head, and from this angle Iri could certainly see her embarrassment flooding her face and ears. He couldn't help but toss his head back, tongue hanging out of his mouth and breath going in a tight huff. One thrust, a second, a third... and then his back arched, his body shook, and he buried himself inside of her, unloading a day's worth of pent-up pleasure beneath that lion's tail - which the Luxray then pressed and pushed noisily back out across his twitching shaft when he slid right back out.

Now a thick, milky stickiness matted the fur around her parted tailhole alongside the natural shine and slickness there, dripping down, hanging in heavy strands. Iri grinned and patted at the Pokémon's rump, giving himself a quick squeeze and wipe with a hand before sliding himself back into his pants. This time when he made his way around, the Luxray avoided his eyes for a wholly different reason: embarrassment shone in those bright eyes, and she was struggling to keep her ears up to maintain some modicum of her original pride.

"While you're here, your highness," the dragon cooed, "I'm sure you'll have plenty more chances to show me how your personal grooming has improved. Wait right here, please; I have to go wrap things up with your trainer."

He turned to leave the room, and did not once look back. Iri knew she would obey, now.