Chamber of Honesty
#4 of Dreamer
The following is erotic in nature. Read at your own discretion.
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Chamber of Honesty
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The dreamer glared out over the grassy meadow, pale green waves undulating in the soft breeze for miles before the edge of a dense forest formed the valley's boundary. He hadn't planned on coming here this night; he'd in fact resolved not to return to the dream world ever again. A part of him was grateful to find himself in the vast field. The rest of him was angry that he'd been pulled into it against his will. He was losing control of his dreams, he knew. In two of his three visits, animal instinct had overcome his reasoning thought and compelled him to take actions he wouldn't have otherwise. His last visit had had catastrophic affects on his real life, a line that should not have been possible to cross.
He had awoken to angry shouts demanding that he leave the lecture hall at once, the smell of the mess dripping down his pants and puddling beneath his desk strong even to him. Humiliating as that was, he could have claimed that a medical problem had caused the wet dream. What he couldn't explain was the wood shavings mixed with his sperm, the Swiss army knife in his hand, and the perfect carving of a pegasus breeding with a unicorn in a small pine block that was sitting on his desk when he'd opened his eyes. He was known at the university now as a pervert, probably a sexual predator, and even though the school board had sent him an e-mail that claimed they were still deliberating what to do with him, the knife alone was enough to see him expelled. It wasn't his; he didn't even know where he could have picked it up on school grounds, where weapons were so strictly prohibited that toothpicks had once almost been banned.
And there he was, back in the cause of it all, a world that was supposed to be of his own making, but had grown beyond his imagining in only two short days. He shook his canine head-he was in the form of an anthropomorphic wolf again-and started walking toward a short stone wall that arced down the middle of the valley. He could try to force himself awake, but had a feeling that as soon as he closed his eyes again he would find himself right back where he was, or at least in some part of the dream world. He wasn't even at all certain he could wake himself up if he wanted to.
With a thought, he held out his hand and a simple mahogany walking stick materialized in his grasp. Holding a staff, or any kind of weapon, always made him feel more sure of himself. This time, it provided further comfort as a reminder that he could still shape this world to his will.
As he drew closer to the wall, he made out a rectangular shape in its side, what looked to be a door. In front of that shape lounged three slender figures. He wasn't at all surprised to see them, but found a part of himself was immensely relieved to see them all safe after their endless freefall during his last visit. Of course, the fall had been devised by the unicorn herself, and he didn't think she'd let any harm come to the wolf or lioness, no matter how irritated she'd been with them at the time.
None of the three females seemed to notice his approach. The wolf and the unicorn appeared to be playing some form of Twister on glowing panels of red and blue, each moving a hand or foot to touch their designated color when one of their panels glowed. The unicorn was anthropomorphic now as well, and though he couldn't examine her too closely while her body was blocked by the arctic wolf's, he could tell that she had kept her gold and silver stripes that the two of them had worked so fervently together to paint. The lioness sat cross-legged nearby, an assortment of wooden carvings scattered around her. The ones he could see were all perfect replicas of his sexual encounters in his past two visits. She looked up and smiled warmly at him when he drew near, proudly holding out the sculpture she had been polishing for him to see. It was a life-sized model of his penis as a pegasus, complete with oversized balls and pronounced veins tracing its shaft. He rolled his eyes at her. At her sudden laugh, the unicorn and the wolf untangled themselves and got to their feet, walking to the iron door.
He studied the unicorn while she walked. She was about as tall as he was, he guessed, standing an inch or two taller than the white vixen she strode beside. She was only slightly more heavily muscled than the arctic wolf, and though her breasts were somewhat larger, they were roughly the same shape: round and firm looking, not sagging on her chest in the least despite their size. The stripes of silver sprouting from her crystal horn traced their way haphazardly down her body, some flowing down her back and sides, others down her chest and stomach, but all rejoined between her legs. One of those stripes arced sinuously over the middle of her left breast before gliding over her abdomen and meeting the others at her silver groin. The rest of her body between the stripes, including the fullness of her right breast, was a bright gold. Her tail, too, was pure gold, sprouting from between a collection of five slender silver tendrils that accentuated the roundness of her bottom and disappeared into her crack, three strands along the inner curve of her right butt cheek, two along the curve of her left. When she walked, those stripes seemed to dance around each other as her cheeks rubbed together. Her mane, in contrast to her tail, was purest silver, cascading down her neck and back. She glanced at him shyly from time to time. Her eyes still shifted between shades of violet, azure, and emerald.
He and the two females reached the metal door at the same time. They greeted him with sincere smiles, positioning themselves on either side of the threshold. The arctic wolf reached back and touched the door with a white index finger, and its smooth surface rippled, looking like nothing as much as a sheet of liquid mercury. He looked from the wolf's face to the unicorn's and back again as they shared a glance, their expressions suddenly mischievous. When their gazes locked on something behind him, he spun around-
-And was knocked sprawling through the quicksilver doorway as the lioness shoved him with all her considerable strength. He landed on something soft on the other side, something familiar. . . .
When he looked around, he found himself sprawled half on the narrow bed in his dorm room. He blinked, thinking for a moment that something must have startled him awake, but his arms and legs were still covered in gray and tan fur, and a long, bushy tail was pinned rather uncomfortably between his bed and his backside. He was still able to cast his perspective into the third person, and doing so showed him his shaggy timber wolf face, showing the exact emotion he felt: confusion.
"They do nothing by halves, do they?"
His head whipped around to the feminine voice's source. Behind him, leaning against the wall, a skunk lounged with her luxurious tail curled in her lap on one corner of his small bed. He had landed right beside her without realizing it. "Who does nothing by halves?" he asked. It was the first time he could remember speaking in a dream, or being spoken to, for that matter. His voice was a gravelly growl, but not very different from his waking voice in terms of pitch and tone.
"Pride and Virtue," the skunk said. She was looking down at her tail rather than at him, petting it like it was a snuggling lap dog. "They're the ones who made this place."
The dreamer tilted his head at her. "Pride and Virtue?"
She nodded, still not looking up. "The lion and the wolf." She waited a moment, then continued when he didn't respond. "Names didn't used to be important in your dreams, Virtue has told us, but we have grown to be something . . . more. You have suspected as much already, yes?"
He shifted his weight on the edge of the bed, lifting a leg up so that he could more easily turn to face her. "I have." He looked around at his cramped dorm room, complete in every detail from the piles of dirty clothes on the floor to the cracks of forming water damage in the plaster wall and ceiling. "Why make this place? This is what I created the dream world to escape."
The skunk's hands stopped moving over her tail's twin white stripes. She finally lifted her face, staring him straight in the eyes. Her irises were two rings of color, the outer sky blue somehow merging with the inner hazel seamlessly. "You just answered your own question."
He blinked again, trying to remember exactly what it was he'd said. "Okay, then. How did they make this place?" He changed the subject rather than dwell on what the skunk was getting at. "I made the wolf-Virtue, you said?-from different parts of my mind, my emotions, but I didn't include my memories. For that matter-"
"Yes, you did," she said, cutting him off. She frowned at him, looking concerned. "Were you not paying attention when you poured yourself into her? You made her so that her memories would match your own up until the point of her creation, remember? You did so very deliberately." Her frown dissolved back to serenity. "Since then, you have paid attention to little other than her body. This is why the details of her birth slipped your mind."
It was said matter-of-factly, almost offhandedly, but he couldn't take such a comment as anything but an accusation. "I have not," he said defensively. "Last time when I was playing with her and the lioness, Pride, beneath the waterfall, I was just having fun, not thinking about her body."
"Because you knew that to do so at the time would be too costly," the skunk pointed out. An amused smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "And still, you paid attention to the way her chest bounced when she dodged away from you. You stared so much when Pride grabbed her bottom in a tackle that they used the tactic twice more to distract you before knocking you off balance. The method worked, apparently without you realizing what they were up to." The dreamer tried to interject something in his defense, but she was already going on. "You actually went slack-jawed when the fur on Virtue's breasts got wet and plastered to either side of her nipples. And when she bent over to dunk Pride-"
"Okay! I get the picture." He had to stop her before she described any more; already he felt a stirring between his legs just at the memory of those games. He had not gone slack-jawed, though! "I know I have a one-track mind. How do you know all that, anyway? Were you in my head when it was happening?"
She shook her head. "We're in your head all the time, but not in the way you mean. But I wasn't even created yet; Virtue made me after you left that time. I only know what she's told me about it." Apparently his dreams liked to gossip. "She also told me that you'd made yourself sexless to try to keep your mind off such things. They knew that for some reason you didn't want your visit to be erotic, but they weren't sure why. All three of them have been worrying about it since then. They want you to know they're sorry if they convinced you to do something you didn't want to do."
The dreamer grimaced, but immediately said, "Tell them that it's all right." He scratched his head and looked away from the skunk, surprised at how embarrassed words could make him feel, more so than sitting on his bed with a beautiful, naked female. "I did want to, very much so. The timing just wasn't all that great."
She smiled at him. "They'll be glad to hear it. They-we-were afraid you were losing interest in us. Crea's been having a terrible time concentrating on her projects."
"Crea? The unicorn, you mean?"
The skunk nodded. "Creativity, but we just call her Crea. She's the one who's been growing the landscape. She made that waterfall and lake specifically to meet you in, with Pride's help. And about the timing . . . that's actually why I'm speaking with you, when I know that words often take up more time than they should. Not just to apologize on everyone's behalf, but to ask. . . ." She looked down at her tail again. " . . . To ask if the timing is better . . . this time."
He looked at her again. "The timing for what?"
"Sex," she said simply. He could only stare at her for a long moment. She sat completely still, not looking up, and after a while he realized she was holding her breath.
"You . . . want to have sex?" he stammered.
She still didn't move while she answered. "It's the main reason you made Virtue, and she made the rest of us accordingly. We don't need to pair with you every time you sleep, but. . . ." She shrugged. "It's our purpose. But we can wait, if for any reason at all you don't want to. . . ." Her voice trailed off, and still she sat motionless.
The dreamer realized that she had assumed the least erotic position possible for a nude female in such close quarters. Sitting in the dimmest corner of his bed, her thick fur mostly hid the outlines of her breasts, and her tail blocked his view of her waist and upper legs. She even avoided looking at him in case her eyes might somehow turn him on, which, he admitted, they rather did. And of course, thinking about the parts of her body she was concealing returned that stirring between his legs.
"The timing is perfect," he said. "After all, I brought my privates with me this time." He cringed inwardly even as the words slipped out. Way to smooth talk, idiot. He hastened to take her mind off the comment. "But you didn't exactly answer my question. Do you want to have sex?"
She finally looked up at him from beneath her brow, smiling again, and her eyes revealed a hunger he had never noticed in any of his dreams before. "For better or worse," she said, leaning toward him, "we always want sex." She let her striped tail unfurl and got to her hands and knees, crawling the short distance between them until their noses almost touched. There she waited, staring into his eyes.
He closed the tiny distance between them and kissed her lips. Their muzzles opened, and they explored each other's mouths with their tongues, careful not to cut themselves on the other's teeth. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand rubbing her back between her shoulders, the other holding the back of her head, fingers intertwining with her long, silky fur. She rested her forearms on his shoulders, letting him hold the weight of her upper body and lacing her fingers together in the fur behind his scruffy neck.
He pulled back from the sweet licorice flavor of her mouth. "Wait," he said, a little breathlessly. "You've told me everyone's name but your own."
She grinned at him. "You haven't figured it out yet?"
He thought for a long moment, then laughed out loud when the answer came to him. Lovely as she was, Virtue had made her a skunk for a reason. She was beautiful, yes, but sometimes she just stank. "You're Truth."
She shook her head, her grin widening. "I'll tell you what I believe to be true when asked, but I can be wrong. I can't divine answers about subjects I don't know about. I am just Honesty, not Truth."
He smiled himself. An honest answer. "Well, Honesty," he said quietly, touching her smooth nose with his own, "I'm Michael."
She stretched her neck to nuzzle the side of his face. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Michael," she whispered into his ear. One of her hands trailed down his side to his hip, crossing his thigh to lightly touch the side of his furry sheath.
"Likewise," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. His voice came out little more than a growl. Her fingers caressed his sheath, then lifted his genitals from where they rested on the bed sheets. "You all have a real obsession with my balls, you know that?"
"Virtue told me you like it when we play with them," she said against his neck, giving them a gentle squeeze for emphasis, then parting his nuts by pressing her thumb between them against his groin. "Remember, she has all of your memories from before you made her. Whether you know it or not consciously, you get as much pleasure from them"-another squeeze-"as you do from this." She dropped his genitals to tap the dark pink tip that was emerging from his sheath. "Or so she told me."
He gently pushed her away with his hands on her shoulders before she could bring him fully erect. "I still haven't gotten a good look at you," he said huskily.
She smiled coyly and touched his nose with the finger that had just left his member. "What would you like to see?"
"Virtue didn't tell you that, too?"
She laughed, her voice light and mirthful, not at all altered by whatever lust she might be feeling. She pivoted so that she was facing the wall and walked on her knees until she was flat against it; she didn't have far to go, since Michael's mattress was scarcely wider than a couch. Once against the wall, she lifted her voluminous tail, looking over her shoulder to gauge his response.
He was slack jawed.
Her bottom, though not actually larger than Crea's, was the biggest of all of the females' in relation to the rest of her body. Each cheek was perfectly rounded, and even though she held herself with her legs slightly apart and didn't seem to be flexing, he couldn't see the lower edge of her groin between them. She laughed again at his wide eyed expression, and he had to stop from touching himself when she wiggled her hips provocatively. She squeezed each buttock with her hands, fingers indenting the black fur on the outsides of her flanks and the white on their inner curves, and spread them just enough to expose her furry nether regions, sharply outlined against the dimly lit wall between her thighs. The indentation of her anus was clear between her slightly spread cheeks and just below the broad root of her tail. That display unsheathed him as quickly as her hands could have. When she saw his pulsing length, it was her turn to go slack jawed. Her arms dropped to her sides, letting her bottom close its crack.
After a long stretch of silence, he was the first to move. Scooting closer, he reached out and stroked the curve of her right buttock. She was softer than the others, too, both her fur and her muscle. And muscle it was, not fat; her body was simply toned to be more . . . squeezable than the others'. Her luxurious fur was as silky as it looked, too. He slid his fingers between her cheeks, rubbing up her groin. She tensed when his fingertips found the puckered skin beneath her tail. "You have a real obsession with butts, you know that?" she said, mimicking his earlier observation. "Have you ever considered that you might be gay?"
Surprised at the question, he nonetheless answered truthfully. "Yes. When I was just going through puberty I wondered why I wasn't attracted to girls as much as my classmates seemed to be, unless I imagined them with fur and tails." He rose to his knees from sitting on his heels and picked up her arm by the wrist with the hand that wasn't embedded in her rump. "Butts were the first things that turned me on. But if this"-he moved his fingers down her crotch until it touched her mound, and she tensed again-"was this"-he guided her hand toward his pelvis until it was once again cupping his genitalia-"I wouldn't be in the least bit interested in yours."
"Poetic," she said wryly, her hand moving up his sheath and closing around his shaft.
He let her wrist go and rubbed the white underside of her tail. "What about you?"
She pretended to think for a moment, drumming her fingers against his erection. "Let's find out." She gestured for him to come beside her against the wall. Amused, he did so, lifting his tail obligingly and letting his arms fall to his sides. She glided her hand across his tight bottom and poked her fingers into his crack, found his anus, and slid her fingers down his swollen crotch until they encountered the back of his sack. She nudged and flicked it several times. "Well, those are certainly nice, but we've been over that already." She then reached between her own butt cheeks and appeared to be touching herself. "Ohh, that's nice, too. I guess I swing both ways."
"Mm hmm. . . ." Michael reached between her chest and the wall and squeezed her round breast gently. "And what about this?"
She laughed, causing her breast to jiggle under his palm. "What do you think?"
"I think this is the weirdest foreplay I've ever heard of." They both laughed at that. He sat back, then, facing her and crossing his legs. She straddled his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossed over his tail. She scooted closer until her belly pinned his member between them and hugged her arms around his neck, pressing her soft breasts against him. They kissed again, and he reached down to hold her silky rump. She rubbed her stomach against his penis, working herself up as well as him; he could feel the soft front of her mound against his sheath. "You're going to have a mess to clean if you keep that up," he murmured into her mouth.
Still, she kept at it for a while longer before scooting away from him, then stretched out on her stomach across the length of the bed beside him, raising her tail to again display her bottom. "Ready when you are," she breathed.
He stared at her. She lay with her legs together, not even raising her bottom to meet him. "I don't know if that angle will work. . . ."
"Sure it will." She reached behind her and again spread her cheeks, showing off the groin between them. She pointed a finger toward her tail hole. "Dive straight in."
"I don't want to hurt you," he said. Nonetheless, he was slowly straddling her hips. He sat back until his bottom rested on the backs of her thighs.
She let go of her butt and folded her arms beneath her chin. "You can't hurt us in the dream, Michael. Pride told me you felt amazing in both of her openings."
He let his hands touch her soft rump. He had to admit, the offer was irresistible, and if the skunk would actually enjoy it. . . .
Michael lowered himself onto her back, gently pushing her bushy tail out of the way to one side. He massaged the underside of his testicles and shaft up and down her silken buttocks, then squeezed his penis between them. Their softness rubbed against the sides of half of his length before his tip pressed into the base of her tail. Breathing heavily, he began pushing against her crotch until she made an undignified noise. "A little lower," she gasped.
He grimaced. He'd been distracted by the feel of her cheeks around him. He pulled out from between her buttocks and squeezed back in, felt fur against his tip, and tried again. Again, only fur, and the same the next time. His aim was humiliating. Finally, he felt the smooth wrinkles of her anus against his penis's head; he'd overcompensated after his first attempt, poking the skunk around the back of her mound, but now only had to shift slightly upward to position his tip in the center of the warm indentation. "You could have used your hand, you know." Honesty tried to sound irritated, but she was laughing.
"And rob you of the suspense?" He was already breathing heavily, having begun intercourse with nothing but the skunk's buttocks. This time when he pushed against her, the smooth skin gave way, and his head began slowly, carefully piercing her. She gasped as soon as she began, and was trembling by the time the first inch of his shaft was surrounded by her unbelievable tightness. Michael paused, and her body immediately pushed what little of him was in her out. "Are you okay?" he asked in a voice low with his growing need for her. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
The skunk moaned. "Don't . . . make . . . me beg," she said through clenched teeth. She tried to raise her bottom up and around him, but in her position was unable to do more than increase the pressure against his tip.
He shoved his pelvis against her again, using all his considerable strength to part her tail hole and burrow into her, inch by inch. Her warm inner tunnel was moist and slippery, but it resisted his entry even more than Pride's tail hole had. It seemed like a long time before he was far enough in her that his testicles were pushed back between his thighs by her soft rump. He let all his weight rest against her back, reaching down to hold one of her buttocks with each hand. He spread them apart far enough to squish his genitals between them, then started pushing himself the rest of the way into her. "Don't flex," he managed to grunt. Even with her bottom relaxed, it squeezed his sack as though someone were trying to strangle it with two velvety pillows.
Michael didn't stop pushing until he felt her crotch against his sheath. By then, they were both panting excessively, and the skunk was trembling uncontrollably beneath him, clutching at the bed sheets and wincing her eyes shut. "You're sure . . . this doesn't hurt?" he murmured into her ear in a low growl.
She uttered a feminine moan in response and took his hand in her own, leading it to the side of her chest where the roundness of her breast was pressed against the mattress. She arched her back slightly, and he slid his hand beneath her when her breast rose, doing the same with his other hand and her other breast so that when she lowered her chest again, her round bosom flattened itself against his palms. He could feel her firm nipples against the pads of his hands, protruding out of her fur when he tightened his grip. "Feels wonderful," she finally said through clenched teeth, still trembling in fits. Her racing heartbeat throbbed through her rectum around his shaft. "Mean it," she gasped. "I'll show you." She arched her back again, and her breasts returned to their full shapes, swaying under her chest as she shivered, only their nipples lightly grazing his hands. "Squeeze."
He obliged, tenderly pressing his fingertips into the roundness of her breast. "Harder," she panted. "Can't hurt me." He hesitated, but only briefly, before plastering her breasts against her rib cage, fingers digging into the fur around their edges, squeezing them together and tracing her cleavage with a claw tip. Of all things, she laughed, jiggling in his grasp. "Stop holding back. Feels good," she said between pants. "Promise." Michael shrugged and wrenched at her breasts, twisting them and clenching his fingers around them relentlessly. She gasped, but then laughed again. "Harder." He let one breast dangle loosely to fondle the other's nipple, using one hand to squeeze her flesh, making her nipple form a point in the organ's roundness, and pinching that tip as hard as he could. When he twisted her nub violently, she yelped and a stream of hot milk spurted from the breast he clutched onto the bed in front of her. Surprised, he immediately dropped her breast, letting it sway with its twin and dribble small drops of milk beneath her chest. He began to apologize. . . . "Again," she moaned.
"You liked that?"
"Mmm. I'll like it again, too."
He shook his head, chuckling, but used his torso to push her shoulders back toward the bed, letting her breasts flatten themselves against his palms again. "Point made, he growled. "I can't hurt you." He bent his neck down to nuzzle the side of her neck. "So this should feel very, very. . . ." he breathed into her fur, and finished his sentence by pulling himself out of her tail hole. She cried out, quivering, and flexed her bottom to keep it from simply being pulled up off the bed as he raised his pelvis, which of course crushed his genitals between her suddenly solid muscles. It didn't hurt at all, though. Once he tugged far enough back, his sack sling-shotted from between her clenched cheeks and bounced on top of her curved crack. Colors danced in his vision, but what he felt was pure pleasure. He kept pulling back until only his head was in her, then her tight opening pushed his angled tip the rest of the way out, so he slid all the way out from between her buttocks and nestled his tip against her crack. "Relax," he growled as he began lowering his hips again. She did so, willing her entire rigid body to go limp, and he had no resistance until his tip met her base-against the root of her tail, of course. This time he only needed two more tries to find her puckered entrance.
She cried out when he pierced her again. He was able to go much more quickly this time, now that he wasn't worried about hurting her or himself. Rather than removing his hands from under her soft breasts to spread her cheeks, he just rammed his balls into her crack. Her bottom jiggled with her shivers as his thighs pressed it flat again. They lay panting through their mouths, his fingers clawing at her flattened bosom, hers clawing at the mattress, motionless except for their trembling and gasping breaths for several long moments. Then Michael repeated the process, pulling himself completely out of her until his member was fully exposed above her rump, glistening with his sweat and her inner juices, before wedging himself between her round flanks again. She was raising her bottom slightly to meet his descent, and yelped when he collided with the back-most folds of her vagina. Inspired, he repositioned himself lower and began humping her lower buttocks and crotch, rubbing the top of his shaft forward and backward across the cleft in her swelling mound. She mirrored his humping movements, enjoying his teasing, but froze when he suddenly pushed himself a little up her body, thrust between her cheeks, and for once finding his mark on the first try, rammed himself into her tail hole. He did it all in a single movement, one moment caressing her clitoris with his penis, the next filling her other entrance up to his hilt. She writhed beneath him while he held himself inside her, still trying to hump him but unable to do so with his hips forcefully pinning her to the bed. She cried out with each frenzied breath, trying to get him to move with her tail, but only thrashing it feebly to the side. He waited within her, body tense and breathing in the scent of her fur, until she calmed herself.
"I don't recommend doing that to any girls you meet in the waking world," she said hoarsely.
"You didn't enjoy it?"
"Best surprise I've ever had. Just don't go doing it to any humans."
Michael didn't think she had to worry about that, but didn't say so. Instead, he began humping her in short jerks, only ever pulling out far enough for her buttocks to regain their half-spherical forms before squishing them flat again. It didn't take long, though, for his knot to begin to swell, and he was unable to force the growing bulge into her anus.
"Wait," she gasped when she noticed the new hardness ramming against her base. He was unable to hold back at this point, though; he just kept humping, letting the soft inner curves of her rump stimulate his knot. "Wait," she repeated. "Push . . . it through."
"I'm trying," he growled through clenched teeth, and pounded himself against her with renewed effort to prove it. His knot was still only half formed, but her hole simply wouldn't stretch enough for it to enter her.
Without a word, she twisted her body and rolled them both over until she was on top of him, inches from falling off the bed. He barely noticed, still bucking against her bottom, now making her long legs flail with each thrust. She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down her body from her breasts to her thighs, then sat upright on top of his lap. All the while his pelvis bounced her up and down, her round breasts flowing always an instant behind the rest of her body. She hunched down and reached beneath his thrusting hips, sliding her fingers under his clenched flanks. "Pull," she demanded, and followed her own advice, using her grip on Michael's furry bottom to cram her own rump down against him. He finally stopped thrusting to join her efforts, tugging her black upper thighs against him as hard as he could. Still, his knot wouldn't enter her, no matter how they struggled. The skunk folded her legs up against her chest, stretching her gluteus muscles, and shifted her weight to the left and right in a slow wiggle that, combined with their strained pulling, slowly convinced the walls of her rectum to stretch far enough to begin surrounding his throbbing knot. Once the widest part of his bulge was inside her, she suddenly thudded down against his sheath, her body immediately locking completely around him. He fell back against the bedding; she let her shoulders slump and stretched her legs, splaying them outward and letting one calf dangle over the edge of the bed. Doing so made her inner muscles clench around him, eliciting gasps from them both.
She moved her hands out from under his rump and repositioned them between both of their legs, finding and teasing his sheath and balls beneath her. He lolled his head to the side, content to let her convince his knot to grow fully within her. It was then that he saw, on the floor in front of his dorm room's door, the polished carving Pride had made of a pegasus's erect member. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the lioness's unique craftsmanship, but with his next thought, he summoned the large wooden penis to his hand. Its surface was smooth as glass and-after another thought-warm enough to make the pads of his hands sweat if they hadn't been already. He pulled himself upright behind the skunk with an arm around her waist, then waved the carving's wide head back and forth in front of her face. He realized her eyes were closed as she concentrated on stimulating his testicles, so he used its solid tip to tap her nose. She stared at it cross-eyed for a long moment, confused until she recognized what it was. Then she swallowed audibly. "Michael. . . ."
He used its tip to trace a straight line down the soft fur of her throat, between her breasts, down her abdomen and between her spread thighs, holding it by its wooden balls and positioning it in front of her mound. "Yes, Honesty?" he whispered into her right ear. He rubbed the polished head up and down her slit, lubricating it with her juices. She gulped again, panting in anticipation, then gasped when he slowly pressed the large head into her up to its smooth ridge. He gasped, too; the intrusion into her vagina forced her anus to tighten around his shaft, nearly crushing his full knot. Both their eyes widened as he pushed Pride's masterpiece deeper into the skunk's loins. He could feel its presence moving up the underside of his own erection inside her, separated by a thin membrane. She arched her back and spread her legs wider, tears beading in the corners of her wincing eyes. Michael's free hand squeezed her breast, and he pinched her firm nipple while burrowing the horse penis farther into her. He knew such a pairing would have injured any female in the waking world, but he didn't stop shoving until the huge wooden balls squished against her groin. She sagged back against his chest, wrenching the breast that wasn't under his palm with her own paw. Tears dampened the fur of her cheeks.
One last time, he hesitated. "Are you completely, absolutely positive I'm not hurting you?"
She dropped her breast and reached up over her shoulder, digging her claws into the scruff of his neck. "If you don't start moving that thing," she snarled, "I am going to hurt you."
He decided Honesty was more likely to make promised than threats, so he complied. He moved the dildo slowly at first, then began pumping more quickly, as though he was the stallion having his way with her. The was her anus tightened up and down his member when the wooden penis slid in and out of her made it feel like he was moving inside her himself. She began adding her own movements to his, riding the imaginary pegasus and tugging his shaft back and forth with her gentle rocking. Doubly penetrated, it didn't take long to work her toward her climax.
Honesty snatched the wooden testicles in both hands and drove the sculpture fully within her, bucking violently against it, hard enough to pull Michael's hips off the bed. In her shuddering orgasm, her inner muscles quaked in a flurry, and one of her dramatic motions actually popped Michael's knot out of her. He yelped, his pelvis instinctively trying to ram back into her, but the timing of his own humping only made him slip completely out of her tail hole, then poke uselessly against one of her butt cheeks or the other as her hips rotated around the two-foot penis.
Growling, Michael grabbed the skunk's waist and lifted her away from him, then threw her onto her back at his side. He straddled her bushy, striped tail and yanked the wooden member out of her by its balls, then grabbed her rump and pulled her up to meet him, replacing his own shaft for the one he'd just removed. The wide horse penis hadn't loosened her folds in the least; even as her orgasm continued to quake her, her vagina tightened down around Michael's erection. He immediately began ramming himself into her, fingers digging into the soft fur and flesh of her backside, his knot leading a small spray of her fluids every time it left her mound, stretching the silky fur of her mound nearly to her thighs each time it smashed into her. Honesty was helpless to do anything except experience the onslaught of sensations, squeezing her breasts in her hands and thrashing her tail between Michael's legs. His balls slapping the lower curves of her bottom counted time with his accelerating tempo, a light percussion to his crescendoing grunts and the skunk's yelps and moans. He draped her legs over his shoulders and leaned forward, bending her almost double so that his hands could join her own in fondling her bust. Her juices drizzled down her crack and soaked the underside of her luxurious tail; they dripped down his sheath, and small droplets flung back between his legs from the bottom of his sack. Their hands were getting sticky with milk as they took turns pinching her nipples.
By the time he was on the verge of release, his frantic lunges had pushed them to the bottom edge of his mattress. The skunk's head and upper torso extended into the air beyond his bed. When his balls finally clenched and lifted against his hardened groin, a final, powerful thrust carried them both over the edge. They crashed in a tangle of limbs on a pile of dirty clothes. The skunk had somehow landed on top of him and was holding his head against her velvety chest, but still he couldn't stop humping her, chasing each stream of seed into her loins. He kept at it long after his balls went limp between his thighs and his knot faded to a small swell of tight flesh in front of his gray sheath. He didn't notice when her hands left the back of his head and neck. The feel of her lifting his tail away from his bucking backside was only a distraction.
But he froze as if suddenly petrified when something round and hard pressed at the puckering of bare skin between his buttocks. He looked cautiously down at the skunk. She was wearing a very wicked grin. She pushed the large penis against his butt a little harder for a moment, then used its head to flick his loose genitals. "Just kidding."
Michael let out the breath he'd been holding and sagged against Honesty's warm body, relishing the feel of her in their afterglow. "I'll see you next time," he murmured.
"Count on it."
When he awoke, he was in the exact same spot at the foot of his bed where they'd fallen. At least there weren't any more carvings to be found, but some inspection revealed that his bed sheets had small puddles of moisture dotting them. It wasn't his sperm; that pooled in his heap of laundry where he'd awoken. Cautiously, he sniffed at it, then, perhaps a little foolishly, he stuck his finger in a circle of the liquid and licked his finger.
It tasted like licorice.