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How does a womanizing fencer like himself: (clip from The Ballad of Lovelace - TI8 Short Film Contest)

Fare against an unfortunately timed sexual cycle of a dragon toad? (clip from Snapfire reveal trailer)

Like the many clash of the Ancients, this is but one version of the tale unfolding itself.

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The action and struggles start to develop at around [Once he's managed to quell the salivary waterworks]. So jump forward to that if you're looking for just the smut. This work also has some audio embeds; open the links in a new tab if you want to hear it without interrupting your read. For a more streamlined experience (with audio controls), you can read it over at Archive of our Own!

"Aaahh... all zis heat cannot be good for my tailplates..."

And indeed it wasn't. With nothing but a basket of cookies and a leash in one hand, the purple-plated, two-legged pangolin continues to slump forward. Trudging along under the fiery sun of the Outlands, walking daintily across the likely charted land masses, is Donté Panlin. The moustachio'd swordsman tries his best to always retain an air of grace wherever he goes; yet under the sweltering desert, the air around him was anything but. The terrain from his place of residence was of much less harsh temperaments, yet his stubborness in looking as gentlemanly as possible for all his tasks prevails yet again. For better or worse, depending on who you ask. The answer to which of course is always worse, if inquired to virtually all but himself.

In truth, he did thought that his typical fencing wear was sufficient enough to resist the scorching weather. Made specifically to allow for maximal movement in his arms and legs no matter how they are bound, the strapped chestplate and harem pants combo was not only functional for most occasions; the minimal features leave a plethora of customization options, to suit even the most gaudy of tastes among those of the Nivan Gallants. Confident as he was in his own looks, this particular Pangolier chose a simple heart-crested chestplate, and trousers made with a slightly darkened blend of materials. The former to show just where he intends to strike with both his rapier and words, the latter simply because it was a durable combination of threads. He himself understood just how blessed he was to be birthed with such beautiful shades of yellowish-brown fur, omitting any need to further highlight it through something as superficial as coloration.

Despite the high breathability of his equipment, he was highly unprepared for the low humidity. In fact, no variant of mystical clothing of any sort, save for perhaps the lone pauldron from a Shiva's Guard, could help his furred disposition endure such a climate. It's been two hours into his trek, and the sweat contained within his loose plating was already starting to feel uncomfortably damp. His dashingly trimmed cheek fur had since long drooped, down due to its loss in moisture. His only practical shield against the sun, being his plumed hat, barely covered the roof of his head, leaving much of his skin exposed to the elements. It was all too much for his body, and much more catastropically, for his looks! Oh woe is he, how did he ever end up in such a situation as dire as this-

"*pant* *pant*, Mmmrrhhhh~"

Oh, right. His own little contemplations almost made him forget his reason for even coming to this god forsaken hellhole, bereft of nothing that seemed even remotely alive. But that's just how the dragon toad Mortimer, likes it perhaps. The jolly-faced crimson scaled lizard certainly looks like he's enjoying the walk all throughout, what with his tongue lolled out the entire time. Why else would he be directed to this exact location to conduct the odd job. The choice of locale was only part of the long list of instructions lectured to him by Beatrix Snapfire, for being on the losing end of a wager. The memories came back floating to him, as it literally happened just a day ago.

"Don't forget to feed him when he bumps his tail around. You could also tell he's hungry when he looks at 'cha with those pwecious cuddly little eyes of his... *ahem*. But try not to indulge him too much. Here's the usual batch of cookies for him; but don't worry, I made some for you too, darling. Should last you guys the whole day!", instructed Beatrix in the post-game hall, after their singular victory in one of their many bouts of Ancient-defending. Even within a flashback, that old bag's smug facial features were just as prominently present as she goes on about petsitting basics. "Alright homegirls, let's roll! The feast ain't gonna eat itself! Hehe, aha ha haa~!"

"Hhnnrrgh!!", suddenly grumbled Donté in place, trying to shake the loss out of his thoughts. This slightly startled the dragon toad next to him, causing even the Pangolier to feel a bit sympathetic upon realizing this fact. "Ah, sorry about zat, boy. Ze aridness of zis land... it's really getting to me." Almost as quickly as his temper flared, Donté reverted to his calm self. Well-adjusted to the mood swings from even his elderly owner, Mortimer himself understood the words of his caretaker and showed a cheery face once more to signal this fact.

In all of his honesty, the shelled mammalian could very well have enjoyed this little errand, had it not been for the teeny tiny issue of the entirely droughted landscape. The little tyke was very much docile and made for decent company. I mean, look at his face, his exotically arranged scales, his WADDLE. The cookies too were relatively enjoyable; in the sense that he had to pretend they were savory meals, as even the oddest tasting morsels are delicious in their own weird way; as such is the matter of acquired tastes. Alas, his little pet walking session became more of a one-sided affair, as his physique was simply not built for getting by in the wastelands. He couldn't even hitch a ride on the beast's back, as his constitution was easily twice the size of his usual mounter. As a man of honor, he knew better than to perform a task without any form of dignity.

But not even the cookies nor the upbeat overgrown lizard can keep his body from lasting much longer. Not one to think too far ahead in planning, he sorely underestimated the need to keep around ample sources of hydration for this side of the outback. His steadfast dedication to upholding gentlemanly conduct might also be the cause of his downfall, as he stubbornly refused to ride on the back of the tamed creature. Merely a few steps later, this ultimately was the case as he began to slowly lose the strength in his own two feet, plopping face first onto the sun-baked surface. In what little consciousness he had still, he could only hear the worrying whimpers of the dragon toad before his mind slowly faded to black.

...

Moments later, Donté awoke to an oh so slight sensation of wetness in the air. Oddly enough, he felt quite rested despite the circumstances through which he was knocked out. The evening sunlight came directly into contact with his eyes, giving him the much needed wake-up call to lift himself into a sit. Panickingly scanning his surroundings, he immediately spotted Mortimer roosting comfortably nearby a sizeably large oasis, putting his heart at much ease. Blessed he was that the critter knew the barren wilderness like the back of his paw.

A few cracklings of the muscles later, and he was already back up on his feet. Rushing headlong towards the nestled creature, the Pangolier was nothing short of grateful for not only being alive, but to also discover that both him and the beast were noticeably unharmed while he was out of it. In his mind, it was a breathtaking miracle that he actually survived what he thought was severe dehydration... but in actuality, it was just a mild case of heat syncope.

"Boy, you're alive!! Ahahahaha, HAHAHA, thank ze Ancients!", shouted Donté mid-tackle, which briefly alarmed the snugly resting Mortimer. Not even the tiredness of hunger and thirst can restrict the man from giving a hefty dose of nuzzles and headrubs to his savior. Being the animal that he is, Mortimer returned with a couple of gentle headbutts, to show that he himself is glad that his sitter is alive and well. Completely oblivious to the magnitude of his simple rescue, the beast simply sat there and replied with purrs and trills once he got tired of the physical back-and-forth. While it is indeed true that the Pangolier only fainted due to exhaustion, laying still in the middle of nowhere while unshielded from the harsh environment can be a gamble with death itself.

Once he's calmed down from the euphoric realization of still being in one piece, the other senses of the furred man finally took hold. The stench of sweat and saliva, presumably from the dragon's attempts at keeping him hydrated, made him audibly gag. This was certainly not the path he intended to take in returning from cloud nine, but such is the way of the mortal body. Foremost, he tended to his parched throat using his trusty wineskin container, which was long emptied out merely an hour after his initial departure. The lessons he learned the hardest way in rationing for the Outlands; it only gets hotter the further you go in, and never assume an oasis is always within reach. For now he could certainly rest easy, as the solar flare is naught but a dim source of light, perfect for attending to other matters before it finally becomes completely dark. Only a douse of water to wash out the nastiest of smells is necessary for now, lest he waste the opportune dusklight.

After setting up camp with the menagerie of tools carried by the dragon toad this whole time, and refilling his canteen to the brim with water for the trip back, the Pangolier finally felt comfortable enough to finally bathe and groom. Fortunately for him, the cookies were not only very filling, they were also easily digestible, which meant no loss of any precious relaxation time on his end. Loosening his chestplate was easy enough, as it was simply a matter of untucking it from his naturally hardened backplates and loosening his waist sash. Gently setting it down so as to not agitate the beast vibing off the nighttime scenery, he then lowered his pants down to his ankles, completely taking off both the undergarment and his footwraps in one sitting. Like any gentleman should, he folded his clothes neatly and set them right next to his already removed hat.

Not one to hide his shame at all, especially in front of a fellow male, Donté showed off his birthday suit for all the world to behold, beginning with a few destressing stretch of the arms and legs. While the tufty golden-furred chest hides much of his muscles, his limberness in removing all articles of clothing demonstrated only part of his swiftness. Despite having experienced a nearly fatal situation merely moments ago, it was certainly not the first he'd dealt with. Indeed, a battle-hardened warrior such as himself who's seen much of the battlefield, coupled with an optimistic outlook of life, can shake off any adversities with little effort. Pair that with his maturing sense of discipline from his years of being with the Nivan Gallants, and it became rather obvious why such an outlying joy-seeker was deemed fitting to be part of the war of the Ancients.

Though the brightly shining campfire serves as his sole guide, the path to the oasis and its surroundings was very much securely lit. While only a sliver of the plants surrounding the sandy pool was visible from the natural light source, the pool of water was undoubtedly protected by several layers of thickets, as was observed during the day. He was never in any rush at all to sleep, as he had done so for a couple of hours already; not from his own volition at least. Leaving clawprints in the sand for every eager step taken, the pangolin's veritable tail tosses back and forth from his brisk walk toward the inviting desert spa. In contrast to the cold of the night;

Donté was pleased to find that upon touching his toes into the bed of water, it was still a very comfortable lukewarm temperature. It was to be expected, as the sun had just completely died down, meaning the sands had barely lost much of its internal heat energy. Once he found a comfortable seating position, Donté parked his steely tail to his side, and sat his tush right on top of the therapeutically soft sand floors. Neck deep in soothingly calm waters, he certainly did not expect in his wildest dreams to be able to teeter on both the edges of hell and heaven on the same day.

With the intention of cleansing his whiskered face, the tired mammal sunk his head into the puddle, and held his breath for as long as possible while also scrubbing any and all particulates stuck upon his facial features. A good minute later, the man resurfaced from the water feeling miraculously refreshed. Not only did his cream-colored coat feel like it was powerwashed, his previously tense and sore muscles regenerated much of its strength after the tiring base-building. This wasn't the only fountain of rejuvenation he's been in, but it was a pleasant surprise to find one in such desolation. After some thought, it made sense that such an untainted spring could only exist without the often times destructive intervention of civilization. Guess this is why the lizard had this spot stored in his long term memory. Admiring the effects of the applied microminerals on his skin and fur, Donté couldn't help but utter to himself, "Hmm hmm... I might have misjudged ze Outlands in more ways zan one."

With a sing and a song to further accompany his leisurely period, the fencer was stopped dead in his karaoke session upon sensing the presence of a nearby intruder. He cursed under his breath, for underestimating the land unknown to him once more in leaving his sheathed rapier by the camp. Within the patch of flora directly in front of him, glimmers of a beast that resembled the size of a baby Thunderhide could be seen. Wait!?... Turning his head to catch a sidelong glance, Donté noticed that the slumbering silently Mortimer is now gone. Before he could even fully stand up, the digitigrade from the shadows decloaked itself.

His heart almost skipped a beat from the suspense, but a stray light source from the fires revealed the peeping tom to be none other than the cuddly big boy himself. 'Hot damn, that beast really knows how to cast a menacing shadow,' figured Donté, his momentary apprehension immediately turning to ease. Though his heart has yet to calm down from its burst of heightened tempo, he managed to muster up the energy to call out upon the sneaky little bugger, "Goodness gracious, boy! You saved my life a while ago, and you almost took it back right out of me with that fright!".

Without much of any warning at all, the curious onlooker makes for a mighty leap into the somewhat shallow water. The motion of the ocean produced by such an unorthodoxed cannonball left a wake that could very well be scribed as the stuff of legends. Not even the most defensive of stances put up by the bath attendee could stop the mineral-laced tsunami from vanquishing every little bit of dirt left from the now-impromptu surfer. As the serpen-tide finally begins to wane, two visages begin to make itself clear over time; the pool looking like it was about half of what it was in terms of volume, and the friendly face of a dragon toad that simply wants to have fun with his temporary owner. Seeing as he was squeaky clean thanks to the inordinate amount of water that was thrown around, Donté supposed that he could stay only for a bit longer to scrub out any remaining grime on the munchkin.

A couple of minutes later, they finally felt decent enough to conclude their uneventful bathtime. His rather average-sized 4 incher wobbled back and forth as he wrapped himself up dry with a spare cloth. Making his way to camp, the oversized scarlet whelp followed in tow. The sand doesn't clump that much on his mostly clawed feet, so he was able to brush it off effortlessly before entering the spacious makeshift living area, of which the construction parts were provided to him by Snapfire. Sparse as it seemed, due to it consisting of really only one large 'room', the quality of this particular do-it-yourself cabin exuded such class and craftsmanship that it still leaves him gawking a second time.

"I couldn't believe it ze first time I saw it, but I'm still in awe over what ze Keenfolk can come up with. And setting it up wasn't even too hard at all", mused Donté, still lightly damp in the hair. In terms of furniture, it didn't have much. A foldable compartmented bed on the left, a sun-powered dual-purpose oven and water filter to the right, and a large walkway intersecting the two clearly demarcated sections within the square tent. Hell, it was wide enough for both him and Mortimer to comfortably fit side-by-side without having to hold their gut in or tuck each other's tails away. It felt just like any other rooms he's been in, except this one is portable! Still amazed by the modular living space presented before him, Donté couldn't help but ponder, 'That grandma is really something else. Why does she even have something this big when she's barely-'

*PATTER PATTER PATTER PATTER, FWHUMP*

"Ooughf!", yelled the towelled young man, stumbling forward on one knee upon the thankfully soft fiber-blended flooring. It took Donté a good panicky second to realize that the figurative bolt from the blue was actually a tackle from his bestial buddy. Certainly blue it was to some degree, as discovered by Pangolier upon turning his head to witness to just how girthy dragon toad balls are. The needy boy's prickly little stinger was out of its sheathe as well in bright orange color, sporting a menacingly thick size even when flailing about in aimless flaccidity. The modest fabric covering the swordman's own little weapon did slide off from the sudden take down, though he's certainly not as worried since the entrance to the abode, of both his body and the tent, was assuredly closed.

Smiling awkwardly at his assailant in heat, the Pangolier was stuck in a bit of an odd spot. On one hand, he was no stranger to amorous moments with another male; while the other hand is clearly much more stacked, seeing as it's an insentient beast that he hardly got to know for the day. Either way, pleasuring the pet was NOT something he expected to perform as part of his caretaking.

Though the little runt's talons aren't really sharp at all, he's managed quite the killer grip on the pangolin's easily climbable backside. As gentle as he could, Donté boogied about in place to push aside the beast attempting to mount him, indicating that this was neither the time, place, nor PERSON to be doing that with. Though his muscles no longer ached, he could really use a shut eye while the safety of the night lingers still.

"Down, boy. No... no, no!", try as he may, the stubborn creature still refused to unlatch himself from the mammal's warm back. Though the gentleman wishes it hadn't had to come to this, he was forced to employ a bit of his strength towards the horny mountain climber.

_ "Heee-iyyyaah!" _, like the towel that came off his waist, Mortimer came crashing backwards not as flowingly on the mat.

Springing on his two feet, Donté's annoyed expression just as quickly turned to that of pity, once he's laid eyes upon the pitiful looking creature. After being thrown off from his failed attempt at courting, the poor squirt was sitting upright on his hinds, with legs horizontally stretched outwards and hands barely covering half his abdomen's distance, dolled with the most longingly wanting expression you could imagine on a pet. He seemed clearly enamored with his fellow shelled compatriot. Of course, the gargantuan leaky cock prominently displayed before him made his true motivation clear as day, but the puppy dog eyes and wistful mutterings were the cherries topping off this sensually adorable sundae.

Wracking his brain to hells and back, he couldn't recall a damn thing from Snapfire admonishings about how to deal with a dragon toad in heat. In his few minutes of staring intently at the ceiling to avoid the lizardly gaze, he managed to conjure up a fragment of the past memory he tried to bury, on account of how it was related to his humiliating loss. Lucidly piecing itself together in his mind, both the regretful defeat and more of Beatrix's lecture uncovered itself within his remembrance, specifically when they met up to discuss the loser's terms. "...Despite their rough an' tough exterior, they're veeery delicate creatures. Honestly, I wouldn't agree to do this with just anyone, ya know. We only won because the other gals hated your guts, though I wouldn't *mumble* mind a date meself... *ahem*," paused Beatrix, narrowly avoiding a Freudian slip, before composing herself to turn to the matters of discussion.

"Mort won't ask fer much, but for whatever he REALLY wants, sometimes he just goes where he wanna. And if I see my boy come back to me with even a whiff of a complaint,"

...following that point, her cheery tone and mannerism flashed into a glowering expression paired with a dour voice,

" You oughta pray that yer scales are shotgun shell-proof."

Like a passing eclipse, her blood-chilling aura turned to that of a doting grandparent as it was before, almost as if she didn't mutter a ghastly death threat. Cheerily, she continued, "Now then, here's a list of..."

Alongside the terrifying reminder of Snapfire's latent batshit insanity, was also the reminder that its triggering point is for her lifelong companion to become upset. With his most recent brush with death still pristine within his psyche, it made him reconsider his current position. Digging much deeper within, the warrior managed to grasp onto one very important principle, amidst the brewing storm of emotional conflict; the repayment that is worth much more than a simple gambling debt is in the creature for saving his very life. His dilemma turned out to have a very straightforward answer; to heed the proposal of one that just saved his life requires utmost attention, and once that is sorted out, everything else with Snapfire should fall in line once the beast is happy. The intially clouded expression of the unclothed pangolin turned to one of content and acceptance over time, as he found the mental closure needed to take responsibility. One final affirmative exhalation was all it took before he finally broke his idle silence, and turned his attention to the lusty yet oddly amenable being in front of him.

A natural lover of animals himself, the platonically charming presence of the ruby-red omnivore was not lost to him at all. He wouldn't have even agreed to Beatrix's request, should he have hated them. Though at the very least, he'd much rather listen to HER conditions rather than the rest of the readably angry ladies. Gently, he took a few careful steps with a well-meaning look toward the awaiting creature, in an attempt to soothe whatever potential slight he might have caused from his prior rejection. Knowing that he was about to make love to his savior made his own conscience certainly more unhinged from the fact that his lover is a gigantic lizard. After all, he's been romantically involved with even odder, albeit sentient beings, in his lifetime.

Mortimer is indeed a simple, yet loyal creature at heart. In all his time with the pangolin, he was never mistreated in any fashion at all, and even enjoyed a certain sense of fraternity that could only be felt between males. In his mind, it was easy enough to answer the apology offered from his part-time owner. To signal his forgiveness, the dragon toad provided his caretaker with a generous licking upon the face, which highlighted the sheen of his bold, beautiful mustache. Donté playfully swiped against the slobbering attempts, as much as he appreciated them. Though it's no trouble at all to wash it away thanks to the supply of water at hand, he'd much rather not waste too much time in getting down to business.

Once he's managed to quell the salivary waterworks, he crept down on his knees to take a look at what he has to deal with. Surprisingly, the little devil stayed very much still on his four legs as Donté inspected the now dry, yet huge still, breeding tool. Feeling his hands all over it, the 11 inch worm was scarily as thick as half of his own arm. Mutually squirming from each other's contact, it took Mortimer much less time to adjust to the massaging, as he started to grow both in comfort and size. Even as the digits touching his flesh waned in enthusiasm, the bony veins continued to expand until it slowly apexed at 16 inches in length.

Throughout the enlargening process, the pangolin could not hide his amazement in seeing the erection of a male dragon toad. At its stiffest point however, he could sense that his touches caused a noticeable physical reaction in Mortimer. With the amplified amount of blood flowing through his seminal organ, sensitivity levels are most certainly at a peak. Though Donté's mouth was agape, it was merely in astonishment from seeing just how hard the throbbing meat is, as he hadn't even the faintest of desire to take such a mammothine object in his mouth. To further enable his hands-on approach, the sitter-turned-breeder got off his knees and lied down as safely as possible underneath the hulking chonker, in a position that allowed both his hands free reign over the hovering pole.

The massaging continued at a much slower pace, though this was only due to the mammal's worry in harming the beast from moving too excitedly. Steady as it was, Donté still did a good job in reciprocating against Mortimer's trembling responses. Never would he have imagined that his days of indulging in pleasures of the flesh would amount to contributing in something as tangential as animal husbandry. Though no words were exchanged between them, everything could be understood just from non-verbal cues, as it always is the case in intercourse. Ragged breathing, hunched body, and the newly learned body language of trills was all the signs he needed that he's headed in the right direction. His shoulders were slightly cramped from being huddled between the two legs, but it did nothing to halt his sensual stallion handling.

_ "Heh heh _... You like zat, don't ya boy? My hands do make for a decent female's embrace, eh?" quipped the Pangolier, as he unleashed his famous two-handed technique, known among his past lovers. Even the odd centaur or two that he couldn't 'ride' comfortably wasn't able to withstand his acupressural fingerwork. Weaving back and forth across the tender veins, his sword arm is capable of spotting the weaknesses of all his challengers, within both lovemaking and combat alike. This extra maneuver delighted the toad to no end, ramping his steady purrs up to a growl, with even more jittery muscle twitches to accompany his euphoria. As the minutes passed on in their one-sided indulgence, the receiver began to grow weak in his knees, as the pleasure slowly started to overwhelm the toad's muscles. Sensing the inevitable, Donté braced himself to spring out from underneath the creature, lessening his grip over the animal's organ.

Like a cat who's had one too many back rubs, Mortimer heaved up and down in both voice and body, until he eventually collapsed on his side. No physical harm nor foul came to Donté at all, as the creature fell rather gracefully, with not much force packing behind the drop. It also helped that he wasn't in the landing path either. Now on his side, the vibing beast still hadn't come down from his high. Within seconds later, almost in sync with his masseur lifting himself off the ground, the still panting boy managed to shift his body sideways into a belly-up position, almost clashing against his foster carer in the process.

Barely teetering out of the miniature crash, Donté let out a sigh of relief, though his breathful release highly contrasts the still vibrating lizard. On his back, Mortimer's slick penis towers gloriously, bending slightly at an angle towards his own face. With the tent's lighting providing a full view for once, Donté couldn't help but stammer again upon seeing the girthy set of dick and balls.

"La vache! How did you manage to hide all zis before, boy?"

Wanting to finish what he started, Donté sauntered up to Mortimer's tail to lay his hands upon the meat once more; upon which he realized that this mighty dragon is about to blow sooner than he thought. 'Fuck,' he thought, as he frantically looked around to find the damn towel. Right as he spotted the towel beneath the lizard's tail, he could sense the whimpering of the toad begin to increase in volume. As he reached for the towel and pulled it out, a portion of the dragon's leaky cum was noticeably ripe for eruption.

In a heroic sleight, the charming trickster chandelier-swung himself around the floored creature with a towel in hand, and landed smack dab on the pet's bouncy gut, taking extra care to ensure his tail was diagonally behind him, preventing any accidental smotherings. The loving pat of the Pangolier's soft bottom against his belly was the final affectionate straw that broke Mortimer's inhibitions, causing him to let loose a ray of white string in the direction of Donté's face. With one hand grasping on to the cloth sheet, and the other resting upon the squirting rod, Donté was able to effectively capture most of the beast's initial release. Bit by bit, the sticky droplets shot out of the sturdy pink shaft, in tune with the cries of the boy beneath. Donté could feel his ass bounce up and down in sync with the monster's cacophonous release. Try as he may, the fencer couldn't get all of the goo to land properly onto the towel, as some of it flew atop his fur. This too was premeditated by him to some extent, as he didn't mind getting his sweaty body even dirtier, so long as the flooring was spared.

As the worst of it was over, the gigantic erection in his hand grew slightly softer in the afterglow. Though his hand is still at the ready for any surprise fire, he realized that he could relax the moment he felt the throbbing veins shrink at his fingertips. Strangely enough, it was still hard enough to angle towards his face. 'How pent up was this boy exactly?', wondered Donté. A deep sigh later, he decided to lower his guard and put his head down against the beasts' crotch, taking in whatever reprieve he could for the moment. For how thick the lizard goo was, it honestly didn't smell much of anything strange, allowing him to comfortably mellow out to the motion of the huffing and puffing dragon's stomach.

Little did the resting Pangolier know, the boy was far from done. Being partly granted the irreplaceable status of a hero, his animalistic avarice is unlike any other, especially when he's finally found a playmate that shared actual similarities to him. What Donté thought was the dying down pantings of a worn out creature is actually the eager heartbeat of a boy who's ready for the main course.

Merely minutes after slumping his head down, Donté was alarmed by a coarse surface rubbing against his hole. It didn't take long at all for him to understand that it was Mortimer's doing, knowing the reach of the omnivore's tongue. Grimacing half-heartedly, Donté was entirely unsure of how to interpret the situation. It was the singular moment in which he's completely stunned from the sudden sloppy sixty-nine on his behind. Mortimer on the other hand was taking it all in; the pungent smell that can only come from hard work, the taste of residual sweat from his masseur's extended period of being exposed, and the shivering sensation of a man who was dealt a surprise attack.

Not long after the period of confusion, Donté felt it stab slightly deeper inside of him which landed squarely against his pleasure button. His nonplussed expression finally shifted to a tired smile. His brown pecker lying atop of the beast grew a slight chub, as the ribbing of his insides continued. The exchange was demonstrably mutual, as Donté felt the creature's meat within his grasp grew fatter and even thicker than before. Widening his eyes in amazement, the Pangolier was dumbstricken by how quickly the boy was able to recover his stamina. He couldn't reside in his own thoughts for too long, as he was enchanted by how good the damn dragon toad's rimming was.

While the big man's hole is faintly obscured by his gigantic armored tail, Mortimer could easily spot just where to aim his tongue, due to an ocular advantage of requiring very little light to see compared to the average sentient species. Far from a virgin's hole, the wrinkled pink spot amidst the bushy brown backside has seen its fair share of use, as he was extremely adventurous with his flings. As much as he enjoyed the company of a vixen, he couldn't resist wooing a choice chad every now and then as well. He knew that he was packing something fierce under his garments, and he knew how to wield both his trunk and his junk to ensure the happiness of each and every participant. But he hadn't expected for animals to be attracted to his junk as well. Knocking out of his reverie, Donté received a particularly scintillating cycle of lickings against his rim, followed by a graceful tonguefuck.

'Good god, this little fella is better than half the lovers I've been with,' was the only reasonable thought Donté could summon as he plants his face harshly against the soft belly of the supine creature. Despite his enervated look, he could barely keep hold on to his senses. At least, he certainly failed to hold on to his muscles, as signaled by the contractions of his anal walls. It almost felt like he was being dicked, but the ribbed surface of the tongue introduced a sensation that is unlike any other. It was now his turn to be huffing and puffing against the endless wave of physical excitation delivered to his now-loosened hole.

By the dozenth minute or so of getting his depths explored, Donté finally unhinged. Slamming his palm against the vacant floor between the stubby dino tail, he braced himself before letting out a loving squeal, as waves of lusting hormones running through his veins. In all his years romantic exploits, he's finally met an adversary capable of flicking his own switch into overdrive. Whatever doubt that still lingered in his mind about getting down with a lizard have all but vanished. Though his upturned pupils are hidden from plain sight, they are undoubtedly filled with hearts. For now, he could only plant his head down onto the toad's silver-bellied crotch, as the dopamine rush takes its course.

"Mmmyeah~ zat's ze st-stuff, boy..." was all that he could vent out in his vigorously sweaty state, much to the delight of Mortimer's senses. Though his speech is yet to be completely slurred, he was physiologically ready to engage carnal caveman mode. His body had shown all the appropriate signs; tongue lolled out in salivation, eyes lazily gazing in a nondescript direction, and hairs haphazardly standing on ends. Next to his head was the warmth of a hardening stalagmite belonging to the monster that unbeknowst to him, was even hornier than before. In fact, it only got so erect due to the musk of a particular maroon-plated hero's bottom.

As the pheromones strengthens its grip on Donté, the usual symptoms of getting turned on start to manifest itself. Drunk on passion, his cock laid bare at a full mast of 6 inches, albeit slightly squished by both their chests. His control over his lower body becomes much more pronounced, as exhibited by his ability to exert a few reflexive clenches against the invading taster. Like all his sexual escapades, the Pangolier does what comes naturally once he's suffocated with love, and thinks of consequences secondarily. But this particular concoction of was more potent than usual, thanks to the unending rattling of his prostate by that goddamn licker.

"HnngghhaaaaOOF-"

The sly pet knew what he was doing when he dipped nearly all his tongue across the depths of the weakened pangolin. Though Donté couldn't help flinch at the thorough excavation of his tunnels, the hurt kissed him ever so wickedly. Mortimer wanted more, and he had his own ways of getting to what he wants. As the tongue wiggles heatedly against the man's g-spot, it calls him into further depravity, taking hold of the warrior's common sense. Losing his control over the power dynamic, Donté was very ready to submit himself to the majestic animal, mentally and physically. Bodily constitution be damned, the Pangolier absolutely needed to quench the thirst induced within his throbbing love tunnel.

After the seemingly eternal minutes of impressive tongueworking, Donté could feel it abrubtly stop from below him. He understood that it was time for him to truly please his 'master'. Though he had some trouble standing up off the critter's stomach, the quasi-aphrodisiac mixture of his own lust and the dragon's stimulating saliva kept him going. Underneath the steeled tail of his was a hole that endlessly winked in impatience, far from its shuttered state merely over an hour ago. Too drained to think beyond the need for a dicking, Donté slowly made his way to the long-ignored bed, each weakly taken step only serving to remind him of how empty his hole is.

Just as quickly as his slimy belly was vacated, Mortimer regained footing on his feet with a simple, yet quaking torsional turn. Patiently, he observed the moving piece of pheromone-implanted ass make its way towards the bed. Like a predator waiting to consume his languished prey, the vermillion scales of the beast shone a mixture of both dried cumstains and mammalian sweat.

Languished he was indeed, as the Pangolier could only muster to crash his back upon the clean bedsheets, perspiration be damned. Though his hands were tired, he could still lift his lanky legs midair, displaying his meekly open red pucker to the only audience member beheld to it. Intoxicated with the need to be pleased, he further teased his waiting tunnel with a few smacks upon his furry butt. Swallowing his pride once more, he steeled himself for what is to come from his unconventional lover; not with a look of doubt, but a dashing smirk. 'Who am I to deny the feelings of love, no matter from who or what it came from?', rings his thoughts for one last time.

Lifting his head to look through his spreaded legs, Donté was more than ready to shout his resolve to the creature in heat;

_ "Consider your wish granted. _ Come and claim what is yours!"

In a furiously headlong dash, the wooed beast didn't waste any time to aggressively mount the pangolin. The large, straightened lizard meat laid itself bare on top of Donté's chest, its length easily reaching up to his stomach. Even if he wanted to back down, there's literally no stopping the beast, as his thighs were folded unto his chest by the behemothlike strength of the critter's front ligaments. Side by side, the humanlike half-chub absolutely pales in comparison to the overshadowing mass of bestial stick. With his free hand, Donté nervously stroked both of their contacting penises, though he couldn't even get a proper grip on the massive red rocket without having to let go of his own. Still wet with oozing pre, he felt it was best to get it as slick as possible with his limited arm movement, while the dragon has yet to act on his impulses.

And only a minute later, Mortimer unanchored his dick away from the trapped mammal's paws, and began doggedly poking its head directly onto the spit-dribbled hole. Having to contend with what comes next, Donté employs his usual rounds of relaxative breathing, to ensure as smooth of an entry as possible. Though there wasn't much lung room available, he wasn't the least bit worried in his suboptimal condition. The handful of breaths he was able to cycle through seemed to be more than enough to loosen himself for the upcoming-

*sssSCHLORP*

"HNGRH- SSsssssssshit!"

Just from the tip alone, Donté's quads trembled in place. Gaining purchase of even the slightest opening, Mortimer's red mass of flesh managed to finally make its grand entrance. Though only 5 inches managed to worm itself in, what stopped it dead in its tracks was its thickness, held back by Donté's stubborn walls. Still vibrating in place, the fleshy organ tried its best to further impinge the unnaturally tight cavern.

_ "NYEARHGH!! _ B-boy, hold on, slowslowslowslow-"

Flashes of pain came rushing in unlike many of his previous bottoming excursions. The stiff point stabbing his insides were much larger and hardier, and was already bigger in volume than most male lovers he'd been with. Reflexively, Donté tried to push his palms against the overpowering beast atop of him, though his efforts were in vain; the stinging sensation in his bottom did not falter one bit amidst his senseless struggle. From what little he could see in his desperation, the eyes of the creature had a certain madness to it; the burning centeredness of pure desire. Realizing that he had much less command than he initially thought, all color was drained from the Pangolier's expression. As the scaled lover attempted to dip even further into him, the escalating soreness prompted Donté to take drastic actions.

"P-please- _ OOOFH! _ Mortimer, EASY NOW BOY!!"

In a last ditch effort, Donté summoned all the energy he could muster to expel the intruder from his lower intestine, followed by a shove of both arm and leg against the two entrapping frontal legs of the dragon toad. Though he couldn't obtain control over his oppressed tail, he was able to free up some distance between his chest and the cold-blooded cretin's. Just when it was getting close to a point where he could pry his knees apart, the lust-addled Mortimer decided that he's had enough obstacles. In a terrifying show of strength, the dragon toad forcibly stomped his front legs downwards, sternly sealing his prey's knees against their shoulders. He could've sworn he could hear the mattress slightly tear from the grand gesture.

Aghast at the sudden display of aggressiveness, Donté couldn't even find a way to show how scared he actually was for his own life. No matter what he did with his body this time around, the lizard would not budge one bit. And this time, the boy was actually growling. The horror of the situation started to dawn on him; neither his actions nor his words would be able to budge the hulking berserker. Not only was he no longer in control, his only remaining role is to be the mare for the vermillion stallion. Though the small scuffle did free up his hole from the appendage, it wouldn't make up for what is to come at all.

Sick and tired of the charades, Mortimer delayed no longer and reinserted his girth into the unwilling Pangolier, crashing into his prostate at an angle. The pain was instantaneous, and much more prominent than the pleasure he's previously had from the tongue-tickling. Unpleasant as it was, what truly scared Donté was that it was merely the front end of the penis. Soon enough, the lessening of the pain awashed him with some form of relief. What the beast had in size, he certainly lacked in technique; as shown by its incessant rattling within the same spot. Teeth gnashed, Donté could at least make out the slight buzz of endorphins from getting his internal buttons pushed.

Virtually restricted from all movement, Donté couldn't even do much of anything else but to give his entrance a squeeze here and there, hoping to get himself off from the now mildly inconveniencing sensation sooner than later. His stiffy dangled and leaked a modest volume of juice, from the pressures placed upon his prostate. Though the comfort of pleasure was a much needed distraction, the venom of hindsight lies unseen. The brief period of enjoyment Donté could grab unto merely lowered his guard. The boy was not only large, he was also damn well in charge. He couldn't possibly be truly satisfied from just wiggling around his dick in one spot. In his clouded judgment, the Pangolier failed to comprehend that the fidgety movements of the beast was simply to ensure that his gut would be slowly accustomed for what is to come, all puns intended.

Thrusting itself much further into dangerous depths, the meat log has now gained access into the pangolin's colon. Slowly, the terrifying visage of the beast relaxes into a less scary face, as it finally felt the cushioning embrace of an artificial womb. The piercing flesh stabbing into his bowels rendered Donté into a near-speechless stupor, with eyes opening wide in surprise at the agonizing incursion. With more of its width climbing into his rapidly expanding hole, the mammal's body huffed and puffed in an attempt at relaxing his body. The piddling amount of pleasure he had before is now far overshadowed by the pain of friction as the dragonling's hammering kept trying to find its way forward.

asdasdds

"*gasp* *gasp* Hng- NNNGHHhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

His only remaining solace is to endure it with whatever bodily tendencies availed to him. Wriggling in place like the little bitch that he is, Donté's hips shook the best it could to ensure that his body could accommodate the staggering girth. The only freedom of movement granted was to his arms, yet they could only grasp the sheets taut. Nothing he'd tried with his arms could even seemingly perturb the beast's movement. In all honesty, he thought that the tryst would be a one and done deal, as most of his previous larger partners could barely manage a minute of his clenches before they immediately busted inside of him. A lesson he'd learned from this was that correlation certainly did not equate to causation, as the intimidating beast remained hard no matter how much further it lurched in. As lengthy as centaurs were, their features were rather undaunting, especially when rode upon lightly. Of the many creatures he'd seduced, none could truly match the length of this draconic demon, let alone its thickness.

In the middle of his endurance reverie, Donté made the grave mistake of feeling up his belly with one arm. The slight bump felt on his lower body reveals the degree of unearthing he's experienced so far.

"M-my LORD ABOVE- *gasp* HNGH- unghn-NGHAAHHH!!! *gaspgaspgasp*"

Flabbergasted by how two-thirds of the mammoth had already made its way in, he reflexively gasped and clenched his bottoms, summoning forth a flash of pain and pleasure due to the forced contact between his flattened prostate and the intruding giant. The uncontrollable surge of sensation blasting through his nerves finally set off a premature release of his own, a generous amount of which landed into his gaping maw. Not even noticing the taste of his own splooge, the swordsman was still trying to calm himself down from the eruption, lest he'd risk another painful ejaculatory bout.

In between his pacifying gasps, the big red boy was not too pleased to feel the ticket to his paradise suddenly becoming tighter. Not even giving Donté a chance to recover, Mortimer shoves himself even further, with about two-thirds of his donger now snugly in place. Though the move was sluggish, its unstoppable motion forced even more of the Pangolier's hole open. His thighs rumbled from the cruel entrance, as his limits was pushed even more. Breathing techniques be damned, the swordsman struggled to compose himself from the monstrous ploughing. Exceeding his thin frame's capabilities, the pangolin just couldn't handle staying silent over the might of the thickest 11 inches he'd had to bare.

"*hfooh* *hfooh* *hfooh* *hfooh* *hfooh*- NnghNRRYAAAAAAAAHAAAAA"

He'd done it this time. His grasp on his internal muscles, much like his honor, might have reached a breaking point. All that big talk about receiving the creature's love, and he's certainly got the hefty end of that deal. In his panicky state of fullness, his arms tried its damndest to grab upon the circumference of his predator's penis, yet it only managed to nudge upon its hard surface with his claws. In annoyance, the critter pulled halfway out, much to the Pangolier's relief. Finally, his stinging asshole found some semblance of ease, as his love tunnel slowly closed in. The lack of any hovering pain for once made it fit for him to be able to speak actual words.

"*hah* Can't... *hah* take any more... boy... lemme... *hah* please..."

But those few seconds was all he had before he discovered in the most gut-wrenching way possible just how further aggravated the beast was from being interrupted. Toying around with a dragon toad's tool while he's fully in the mood was likely the worst thing he could have done in the situation. Through unintended spite brought about from his lasciviousness, Mortimer won't stand the least bit of interruption to his moment.

_ "HYEARGH-!!" _

*PLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAPPLAP*

What followed suit was a vicious machine-gunning of animalistic proportions, dead center against his already-sore hole. Had they not been situated in the middle of nowhere, the lusty noises of skin-on-skin contact would definitely attract the attention of any outsiders. Under the godlike mating press, not a single body part was spared from reverberation caused by the relentless entry. All sense of time was lost between both of them in the enrapturing that ensued. Even more so for the poor, brave pangolin frivolously being used as if he was nothing but a breeding sack. The fast-paced bulldozing preceded all of Donté's prior thoughts; as even his raised legs were put in place by the regimented raider.

Slowly but surely, the maximal reach of the beastly penis started to encroach hazardous depths. Mortimer owned this hole, and he wanted to get the most swash out of his buckling. The aggressing speed of his thrusts ramped up dramatically, blurring the vision of the poor recipient. As much as this was habitually intended to further stimulate his other partner in heat, it was also because this was the best damn rut he'd had in a long while. There was seemingly nothing that could stand between him and getting more of his meat squeezed in.

12 and a half inches in. The layers of Donté's insides finally began to unfold itself into inhumanlike proportions, like a crowning female in preparation for its miraculous unbirthing. His enlarged colon had to temporarily halt all other functions and focus solely on taming the intruder wreaking havoc upon his walls. His saccadic breathing slowly turned to a mix of sobs and whimpers. He wasn't even aware it was possible for his body to experience this much subjugation, let alone process it. His only method for acknowledgment of this violation is to shake his head in pure disbelief at the voluminous amount of cock he his stomach is able to contain.

"*huff* I CAN'T, it's too MUCH- *huff* *huff* *huff*"

His pathetic attempt at a protest fell on to deaf ears, and his feeble arms couldn't even be wrested against the overpowerer's harkening figure. There's no brakes on this rolling thunder.

"B-BOY! *puff puff puff* plea-

_ *gasps* _EH-HEEEEEEEEEEAAAAASE!!-"

14 inches. The rising tone of his squeal is a sure enough translation of how far it had reached. The rougher spines of Mortimer's barbed rubbed torturously against his opening, providing both a cruel jolting reminder against his tender non-reptilian ass, as well as an endless wave of unwanted stimulation that keeps him conscious through it all. Choking on his own tears, Donté could swear he would've died right then and there. Without the protection of the Ancients overlooking him, his heroic spirit had all but waned into nothingness.

Though his spirit had crumbled for the night, his flesh is kept awake by the slowed yet deepening stuffing he has received. With each heavy insertion, his drooling mouth could only emit a wretched, pained moan. His boundaries long overstepped, the Pangolier could only lie down and let the humongous dick control wherever his lower body would be taken next. He didn't think he could ever get used to handling a whole mountain inside of him, but he knew he no longer had a choice.

Mercilessly enough, fate had one more offering for the hero. Just when he thought the darkness of fatigue would welcome him, Mortimer reeled himself back out slightly, letting the unwanted grip of sanity engulf his being. Though the fullness of pain spared its presence, the creeping head of what's coming next dawned unto him. Though he was more than ready to let his body receive the ravaging to come, he hadn't even a second to mentally prepare for the final destination. Coated in sweat from top to bottom, Donté could barely sound out part of his throes as he shook his head furiously from side to side.

"Wai- wai- wait, boy- no, no no no _ NOOOOO- _"

Whether the passage was granted or not, all that's left of Mortimer's made its unnerving way into the helpless creature. The Pangolier used what little acuity he had left to hug his own face as hopelessness starts to sink in. Crashing against the most fragile shield within his insides, the dragon toad could finally hilt his thickest base completely. The red rocket has only one moon it intends to land on, and unlike in space; Donté's scream can definitely be heard.

"HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAEHHGHHHHHHHHHHHH- YOU'RE RRRUIINNING MEeEEEEEeeEEEEE-"

Bereaved of any remaining grip over his physicality, the Pangolier hadn't even noticed his engorged penis spraying out semen directly onto his entrapped chest. Like clockwork, every lucky shot of the dinosaurus dick upon his prostate triggers an orgasmic gush that squelches into a lather as the beast's stomach clashes against his tender fur. The soft folds of Mortimer's stomach pressing against his sensitive tool only serves to milk him even harder than he deserved to. Through the hellish pounding he'd went through, being able to cum is the smallest relief he could afford in the moment.

And so he did. Spurt after spurt, he let it all out. Every push against his tuckus is accompanied by a vociferous groan, alongside further unladening of his testes. Soothing bliss washes over him, at times even overpowering the anguish of being stretched wide open. The feel good sensation floating in his mind definitely assisted in lessening the physical presence of the intruding giant.

And even when his furred balls are emptied clean of its contents, traces of reliance on endorphins pushed himself to inhuman heights. All the armadillo's strained body could release was a shower of urine, and though not copious in volume, certainly matched in intensity to his prior ejaculation. While it clearly didn't invoke the same chemical release, the placebic effect it had was more than enough to elevate himself further into heights of pleasure. The trickling piss that cascaded downwards onto the waterproof bed, and splashed against the padded floor, went entirely unnoticed by both tentmates. All that mattered to Donté was to savor the moment as much as possible, by hook or crook.

Eventually, his heavy breathing returns to the focus of enduring the palpably monstrous 16 incher fully inside of him. The pain surfaced instantly, jolting him awake for one last moment of exasperation. Miraculously, the virulent hormones that still linger keeps him from losing complete control of himself, dire as the insertion may seem.

As luck would have it, the jitterings of the alpha became increasingly ferocious. The steamy exhalations between the two of them are now matched almost evenly. Heralding the beginning of the end, all sorts of thoughts began to race within Donté as he too understood what is to come. With naught but a pitiful squeak, he closed his eyes as the raider kept on thrashing about, like it was drilling to the earth's core.

"C-COME ON *huff* BOY!! LEMME *huff* HAVE IT *huff* ALREADYYyYYyYyYyYYY!!"

Riding the high of his orgasm, the swordsman let forth a final callout so he may end it on a note befitting still of the hedonist that he was.

As if the exclamation was heard, Mortimer finally snapped out of his trance, and let out a tremoring purr to accompany his final stroke to deliver a tsunami of his own litter into a container that simply could not. Donté's entire lower body is more sore than it has ever been, and he could feel his stomach grew several sizes bigger. While the dragon toad was somewhat quiet in his climax, its recipient of all that batter was making all sorts of noises while trying to handle the deluge that was pumped directly inside of his body. As the groans continued to fly from Donté, his bottom wasn't faring much better either. The buildup of lizard splooge inside of his bowels grew at an uncomfortably rapid pace, and his plugged up hole simply wouldn't allow any to seep through. If this keeps up any longer, he might just start tasting it.

Luckily, that didn't last long for too long either. In the instant that Mortimer's dick turned even slightly flaccid, the floodgates that safekept much of his baby juice tore down immediately. Through any and all tiny crevices available from Donté's hole came an outpouring of murky white. Blasting in various directions, the fountain of spooge leaks through the openings of his crack like a poorly thumbed up hose. The repulsive sounds encircling the small domicile was the least of Donté's worries. If anything, his clouded thoughts did him a favor for having blotted out such a filthy spectacle from his mind.

The scorched earth that is his distended asshole tried its best to repel both the solid meat and its progenic liquids, and to call it a messy affair is beyond an understatement. Doggedly, Mortimer is still not completely off his case, as the escaping fluids from the Pangolier's ass is constantly replaced by a fresh supply. Though the net change in flow was slowly turning to Donté's favor, the process was anything but delicate. His attempt at pushing out the shrinking rod within took more effort than he thought, especially since it required active deliberation on his part.

Having answered his call to nature, Mortimer finally began to dismount from the missionary position that lasted way too damn long for the poor bottom. Unbeknownst to his instincts, all that healthy reptilian nut would end up wasted, and not towards any means of continuing his race. The beast could tell that he'd dealt quite the damage, yet the insentient being could only offer a few laps of his grainy tongue against the unmoving bitch's reddened rose.

Still on his back with his knees flattened against his chest, the caretaker was still trying to make sense what the fuck just happened to him the past few hours. Though he wasn't completely present in the moment, the physical therapy afforded to Donté's bruised and battered anus certainly helped soothe some of the damage. Following a rested minute of salivary treatment, the overloading contents within his colon finally weighed in on his lower body. Just when he thought he'd displace much of the goop within his inner linings, his ameliorated nerves had a different story to tell.

Following this realization, the soreness in pressure difference between his filled intestines burst forth, delivering a jab of sudden pain onto his rectum. Clutching his stomach in a pained haze, Donté could almost believe that he was giving birth to another litter of Mortimers. Finally letting his leg down after being frozen in such a submissive state, the pitiful warrior could only curl up in a fetal position to lessen the intensity of the gurgling brew within. It hurt and ached like no other case of food poisoning he'd been through. Meanwhile, the large quadruped had already left the living space, and was half-way to the pool outside.

"Hhhhhhngg.... ough- pfhhhhhhhhhh.... hah..."

Not soon after, he was able to purchase more and more control over his insides once again. Gathering his strength, Donté gave one silent huff, and puffed out his insides while lying to his side. Collapsing against his anal gates, out came a river of fresh dragon toad candidates. In a domino effect, the torrential outpouring of thick cream began to paint his shelled tail a dull white layer, with the rest of it mixing with the piss puddle on the floor. His gaping hole pulses several times in the process, trying to handle the fluidic rush that was clearly not fit for someone four sizes smaller than the intended host.

One embarrassing noise after another, his beaten, wrinkly flower discharges more and more of the concoction. After an agonizing minute or two of projectile ejection, the pressure starts to wane, yet he still feels full. The volume leaving the Pangolier's haired taint begins to recede, yet he knew he wasn't done.

Akin to a zombified whore, he managed to push himself up, and drag himself to the side of the bed. Not feeling all the blood flowing into his feet entirely, he instead begrudgingly huddled over his knees to get the best squat his tired quads could handle. In the end, he could only manage to adopt a crawl, with his bum slightly facing downwards. Quivering on all muscles in his prostrated position, the Pangolier could at least feel gravity's helping hand in draining out the rest it. But it merely lent a hand.

After the storm that he was put through, the cleanliness of this resting house was the absolute last thing on Donté's mind. With what little pep that's left in his sphincter, Donté was forced to push out the cupful of sperm within his receptacle. Sopping wet, his ring curled inwards and out grotesquely, accompanied by unavoidably sudsy farts from each bearing down of his muscles. The high frequency at which his ass is expelling out the fruits of labor shows just how much was left over inside. Eventually, the convulsions of his gaping orifice mostly resulted in loud movements of air. Huffing and puffing while face down and on his knees, Donté just wanted to get it all out so he'd never have to find any more down there while asleep. Hell, he was damn sure he'd be finding traces of it for days to come anyway. But waking up to a gnawing belly again was the last thing he'd want.

Like the liquids that occupied his gut, Donté could feel his vitality sap away just as fleetingly. Not even wanting to test the waters of his burning nethers, he crashed to his side once more. Only as the weight of his eyelids begin to materialize does he notice the distinct lack of unpleasant odors around him. Perking his ears, he could hear the running fan of a ventilator which was running the whole time. The soft hum of flowing air lullabying him to sleep, no more surprises await him that night, for he could finally rest his weary...well, everything.

...

Though his rest was shortlived, the body of a trained warrior could dole out damage just as well they can take it. While his pulpy bottom could certainly use more R&R, everything else on Donté felt right as a whistle after the deep nap. Well, whatever else that still ached would be fixed in a jiffy thanks to the outdoor oasis anyway. Craning his neck to the end of the large bed, he spots the gentle giant curled up near his carer's feet.

Seeing the tender, goofy smile plastered upon the scarlet snapper even as he slept reminded Donté that there is more truth to the expression 'a pet taking after its owner' than he thought. But he was glad that it was able to show love in ways that also didn't involve a barbaric breeding session. In the midst of a careful leg stretch, avoiding the curled up dragon-

_ -the Pangolier was stopped for a split second by that familiar twinge of soreness in his bottom half. _Not the most welcoming way to start off his morning. However, considering the war that raged against his insides last night, being left with only a sensitive region rather than an all out organ rearrangement was a blessing he'd take with no further questions asked.

As the cogs in his head start to turn from soaking up the windowed rays, the sights and sensations of his tangled up fur was finally beheld to him. Had there not been an accessible washing spot, this would've absolutely put a damper on his mood.

But... oh no, he'll have to walk across the filth that stagnated... on the... floor?...

...Wait, the padded flooring seemed like it was exactly as he first time he entered. It feels damp, yet nary a trace of last night's waste could be seen or whiffed at all. 'It cleaned itself overnight!?', mused Donté as he stroked his scraggly chin. No longer distracted by a beast in heat, he could spy in the corner of the room a silently moving droid, presumably still running its task to to the final unit squared. For what is supposedly a less sophisticated version of a portable Keen abode, there was certainly no compromise in quality. Thankfully, the padded bedsheet seemed thick enough to contain much of the mess, sparing the bed as well.

Seemingly reminding him of the only thing that's actually dirty in the room, his own stench began their assault on Donté's senses. Not dawdling any longer, the unkempt purple-hided took the sheets along with him for a rejuvenating soak once more. A quick scrubbing was all that's needed, before he started to disassemble the engineering marvel of a modular home. With the final piece stored in place, it was high time for them to return to their fated gathering.

With a limp in his every few steps, he knew he couldn't forget the scene that night for the longest while. From how unusually attached Mortimer seemed on their journey home, things certainly got a lot more interesting for the shelled and scaled duo.

_ "Let's... keep zis between us," _ whispered the pangolin once more to his attending beady-eyed lizard.

Deep down however, this was more of a reminder to himself more so than the insentient critter. He'll want to erase the memories of what had transpired, because he knew his body would definitely never forget. And it'd be a damn shame if he could no longer experience another moment with such peaks and troughs for the rest of his debaucherous exploits. After an encounter like that, any future instance of bottoming will look like a tea party in comparison. And that was something he wasn't exactly ready to accept.