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26. LucienneSanka - Fisting

Sanka shifted where she knelt, trying to find a more comfortable position for what she was about to do - or resume doing, rather: wet slickness had slurped up just past her wrist, where warm crimson markings in her fur twisted and danced up towards her elbow. The thick, slick coating of lube - home-mixed, of course; it was the only way to get it to the perfect consistency - shimmered across her otherwise white fur, darkened somewhat by the other wetness now streaked across.

Her fingers tingled. The jackal bit her lip, scoffed, and shook that paw out, tall ears flicking forward again. Such a delightful sound here in front of her, the rustling of fur on fur, the bumping and shifting of entwined bodies on the floor, the soft, dry wrinkling of the plastic sheet... the panting, the gasping, the breathless swallowing, the moaning, one voice familiar and the other voice new. Wrapped together it all made a delicious, delightful array of music to her ears, though it was missing one vital point.

She came forward, wet her lips, watched for a moment longer, and then leaned back in, a little closer now, a little higher. When her other, relatively dry paw settled back in along the snow leopard's bared rump, long fingers mushing easily into the plush give of the feline's full rear, Luci paused in her thrusts and gasped; her tail flicked up and back, already anticipating the continuation of Sanka's self-appointed task.

"Sorry about the wait," the jackal murmured. She pinned her fingers and thumb together to a point and ran them up underneath Luci's tail, following the line in her fur leading up from the back of her swinging sack towards the puckered rim of her tailhole, luscious pink skin wrinkling over itself, tensing in between each forward thrust, then relaxing back out so that it pursed against Sanka's fingers like a pair of lips ready for a kiss. "Had to find a better angle."

Luci nodded, eyes mostly closed and also obscured by her long hair having come undone from where she had pinned it in back, shimmering chocolate-brown flowing down over her shoulder. It swung and lurched with her movements, just as her breasts slid and shifted atop the relatively smaller body underneath her-

"Huh?" said that second body. A little bit of a squirm and shiver, and then a short muzzle managed to fold its way through the curtains of her hair; turquoise eyes looked up at where Sanka knelt, then fluttered luxuriously shut again beneath another thrust from the snow leopard. "Did you -ah... hah - say something-?"

Sanka gave the slim otter a gentle smile. With her clean paw she reached down, caressed the underside of his chin, and patted his cheek, all the while rolling her pointed fingers around Luci's puckering tailhole, pressing up each time she squeezed back, then folding them out across those wrinkles whenever she pushed again.

"Don't worry about it, dear. You're doing great." Sanka stroked his headfur and then gently tilted his muzzle away, just in time for Luci to shift, wrap an arm down around his shoulders, and tug him up against her; he gasped, squirmed, and bucked back against her, his own fully hard shaft slapping against his belly in response to another thrust deep inside of him.

What a wonderful boy, that Lukas. Sanka had brought him home after some three days of chatting, only to find out that he and Luci were already well acquainted, and now... now the jackal got to watch both of them indulging so deeply in each other. She sat back on her haunches for a moment and then shifted again, her relatively clean paw running its way down the small of Luci's back to bend the snow leopard forward, to hoist her tail up with a thumb hooked underneath, to squish back into the warmth of her rump. Her other paw again lined up with the center of her tailhole, flexing and stirring and tensing, and then Sanka gave the slightest of pushes...

...and Luci immediately reciprocated, first tensing and then relaxing, and then gently pushing again. Slick, puckered flesh blossomed up around Sanka's fingertips, then pressed further - and she guided her paw to sink slowly back up into the feline, her rim stretching rather easily up over the base of her claws, then the first knuckle, then the second. Sanka tilted her muzzle to get a closer look the deeper she sank, slick wet meat pulling open around her, stretching further; warm pink skin gave way to the rich, glistening red of damp inner walls, overlapping folds and wrinkles slurping, slopping up around her fingers, pressing into the spaces in between, leaving slightly discolored trails of sticky mucus that had already begun to mat her fur down.

Luci tightened around her paw again, briefly wedging it another half-inch out of her. Sanka couldn't help but grin, brace herself against her thigh, and then push in a little more firmly, facing the natural resistance and pressing past it: there was the wet, sticky sucking of Luci's inner flesh slurping against her fingers and then pulling back in, then pushing back as her muscles shifted and adjusted. Then a gasp from the snow leopard and otter both as she buried herself deep, Sanka guiding her forward with the bulge of her knuckles grinding up against her tailhole.

"Sanka-"

"Come on, kitty." She wriggled her fingers amid those overlapping folds of flesh like warm, wet silk. "Already managed it once today. You can do it again. Just need a little bit - of..."

Another push, followed by the sensation of peaking pressure... and suddenly this same wet heat sank over the jackal's knuckles and slid down the back of her paw towards her wrist. Despite how many times she had felt it before, the sensation still took Sanka by surprise, like the feline sucked her paw deeper inside of her, until her stretched tailhole blossomed around her wrist and held her in place; she turned her paw to the side, dug around in these squeezing, clenching, sloshing guts, pressed up against the moist heat of her inner walls slipping into place against her fingerpads, then pressed in even deeper.

Slowly, half-inch by half-inch, those red markings along her arm disappeared inside of Luci's tailhole - and Sanka guided her to press even deeper into Lukas underneath her, pushing against her from within. The jackal tilted her body for that better angle she sought, fished around a little bit more, felt Luci squirm and shiver and clench around her forearm: here was some wet, swampy softness; here a little nugget of pulsing tightness, forcing the cat to gasp and clench again whenever she rubbed against it; here a section of firm stiffness, stretching out, like the interior of her pelvis... Sanka gave another push, and Luci was forced to thrust. Snow leopard and otter both moaned out. Sanka smirked again, then turned her paw the other way - Luci's tailhole shifted and molded around the shape of her wrist - and hoisted up further, now drawing her to tug slowly back out of the otter.

She glanced over at the positioning on her arm, and wondered how far along Lukas would be able to get.

27. LucienneSanka - Prolapse

"Oh - hoh, that's - ah... don't hold back - what, you think you're gonna break me? You think you're capable of that? Come on, give me-"

Luci watched, amused, as the stallion's hooves audibly clacked across the floor with him trying to find a better angle to continue thrusting. Underneath him Rachel lifted her hind up against his body with enough force to send him off-balance again; clack-clack. He gasped, shivered, braced his hands on her black-furred rear, then started to pull out... and kept on going... and kept on going, until the bump of his medial ring visibly tugged out at the wolfess's tailhole, causing the luscious pink flesh to roll outwards and then slip back into place again. A thick glob of lube oozed out underneath and dribbled down, catching along the leathery skin of the horse's sack, before he took a breath and plunged back in.

Or - no, not lube. At least, not anymore. The snow leopard leaned over to take another sip of her drink as she watched, other paw working steadily between her own legs. This lucky stallion had been the one to open the night, and now he had come up for his second go; in between there had been that other wolf who had managed to tie Rachel, then tug himself free before his knot went down; then Lukas had had to be leashed and plugged, but once inside the wolfess's freshly-used tailhole, he had blown in a matter of minutes; and then that lovely assistant professor at the local community college from down the street had stopped by; and perhaps one or two others that Luci had missed while she was in the other room.

She tilted her head for a better look as the stallion buried himself deep inside Rachel's guts once more, his impressive length pressing out at her belly from inside and stirring a slight, smooth bulge beneath thick fur. The wolfess rumbled with delight and pushed back against him, then again, and again. The slow, steady noise of her rump smacking against his hips filled the room, and before long he had doubled over her body and run his fingers through her mane, back arching and straightening out with his thrusts.

Glad I'm not quite that big, Luci thought over the rim of her glass, watching the way his pendulous balls swung underneath him. Each time they smacked forward, another squirt of milky white spurted out between the two of them, painting his inner thighs, the floor underneath, Rachel's loins. That looks fucking exhausting.

And it probably was: with a little more encouragement from the wolfess and likely a similar amount of squeezing and clenching, supple inner flesh and the well-stretched rim of her tailhole sucking sleekly along his length, before long he was bucking deep inside of her again, breath coming and going in raucous flutters through curled lips. His shoulders rose, his rump quite admirably tightened, his grip squeezed in - and then to Luci's surprise he pulled back, further than before. There went the rim of his sheath, succulent wet skin folding back over itself; there went the ring again, glistening wet; and up towards the rim of his head... where he stopped, then gasped, moaned, and bucked, and again, and again.

Even from here the snow leopard could see the way Rachel's rim bulged out around the horse's flare swelling inside, as well as the flesh _around_her tailhole. Her wrinkled pucker, smeared and slick with past loads, swelled up, bulged out, tugged behind the wide rim of the horse's peak... and then with a pop of wet suction suddenly slurped free, forcing him to gasp, double over, and empty another impressively thick rope of white across her. Wobbly he pushed himself up, hefty shaft hanging down between his legs, and backed off in case anyone else wanted a turn.

"Well?" Rachel called. Her tailhole winked, mixed white bubbling up like boiling glue, then relaxed again. Rich, glistening red inner walls shone in the light, muscular rim gaping open. "Who's next?"

Luci looked around, took another sip of her drink, rested it back on the table, then with a bit of effort pulled herself out of her chair. The wolfess's ears flicked back towards her and her face softened.

"I was wondering when you'd toss your hat into the ring, dear," Rachel purred. She lifted her tail, swung her hips side to side, clenched again, then gave a push. Warm overlaps of mushy meat squished together, all of those loads welling up from deep inside, spreading out along the rim of her tailhole, dripping through her fur. "All prepared for you, so why don't you just-"

But Luci had other ideas. She braced her paws along the wolfess's bared rump, returned her smile and wink, then dropped to her knees, parted her lips - and sealed her mouth as far around Rachel's gaping tailhole as she could. Immediately the sensation of pressure shifted, Rachel's internal musculature shifting, squeezing, tugging the air from Luci's mouth and lungs as she tried to clench; the snow leopard flicked her tongue right out into the center of her blossoming wet flesh, slipping easily in between the well-slickened folds of her lower guts.

Ahead of her Rachel shuddered and sighed, then gave the slightest of pushes - which was enough for the rim of her tailhole to pucker and blossom outwards, filling up like another pair of lips in between Luci's, with all of that bulging flesh welling together in between. As she slurped and lapped around inside, suckling away at the thick, dribbling slickness, she felt that pressure change further, dank wet heat drawn out from deeper inside the wolfess's body. Sweet saltiness, slightly bitter acridity, the rich, heady musk of all of her visitors tonight; she tilted her head, took in a breath through nostrils wedged up against the side of Rachel's rump, smelled nothing but the fur conditioner the wolfess used during her showers and then at least four other distinct aromas here, then swallowed down and sucked again.

It felt like swirling her tongue around within one of those single-serve pudding snack packs, except the pudding was a warm as the inside of a body, and also loosely connected to itself, and-

Rachel clenched down around her tongue, pushed, then clenched again, and Luci slurped free from her with a moist, sloppy pop. Thick stickiness squirted down across her chin; she instinctively lapped it off and tasted those fresh loads again. Rachel looked back at her, eyes wide, hind legs trembling slightly.

The wolfess swallowed. "So, uh," she said. Luci's gaze flashed over towards her tailhole again, her pucker parting naturally open again and this time stretching strands of saliva across itself. "Wanna go round up some other... participants for me, and then you can come and have a second go in... oh, an hour and a half?"

"Sure..." But seeing her parted rim, the pink wrinkles of skin curled back to show blossoming red meat inside, Luci couldn't resist dragging her tongue all the way across Rachel's tailhole again. The wolfess reflexively clenched again, then relaxed. "But I'll take my turn first, of course."

"Oh, of course. I thought you'd never ask..."

28. SoraCasus - Sounding/urethral penetration

"Hold still. It's important that you don't move while it's going in."

"I'm a little nervous..."

"Of course you are. That's to be expected. But remember what I said?"

Warm eyes flashed up to Aeon's. Immediately he felt the force of the hyena's gaze and glanced away, only to then look back to her a second later. She had developed a habit of clutching his chin in one of her huge paws while either pounding into him or onto him, depending on how she wanted to use that impressively malleable pseudopenis of hers, and forcing him to maintain eye contact with her while she rode each of them through their peaks. Admittedly it had made things easier, but still the hybrid felt that familiar uncertainty and nervousness now as she lightly clutched his plump sheath between a forefinger and thumb, deliberately holding the naturally slick, supple skin back past his soft tip... and especially with the long, thin metal rod held lightly in her other, the tapered tip bearing a thick glob of gelatinous lube.

Aeon swallowed again, eyeing that metal rod. Fyra released her gentle grip on him, reached over for the tube, then flipped the cap and nestled the mouth against his sheath. As soon as she squeezed, a sharp chill arced through his loins and up his back, cold lube squirting out inside_the sensitive folds of skin. "_Ah-" He gasped, shivered, and slowly relaxed again, unable to resist a little thrust when she once more parted his sheath lips. "Uh - try not to clench, don't make any sudden movements, and..."

"And let me know if you feel any kind of discomfort or pain. This is easiest if you stay soft through it, your first few times." The hyena tilted her head where she knelt between his legs at the side of the bed. To think she made it look so easy: tall ears perked, Aeon could hear the rhythmic _vrr-vrr-vrrrr_of the vibrator she had buried to the base inside of her own pseudo, the toy roughly as wide around as his own full arousal. "Okay?"

He licked his lips again, looking back and forth between his revealed tip and the rod. No worries about him getting hard so far, at least: the idea had sounded hot when she had first brought it up with him, but now that he was here and knew that that thing was about to plunge who knows how deep into his cock... "Okay."

"Are you ready?"

Slight hesitation - but then he nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready."

"Okay. This might tingle a bit."

Aeon tightened up, expecting the worst, then remembered her words and forced himself to relax. Lightly, gently, the tapered end of the rod poked against the similarly tapered tip of his cock, then nudged down in between the tight walls of slick, hypersensitive flesh. He sucked in a gasp at the sensation of cool metal pressing down into that spot where nothing else like this had ever been; Fyra held the rod lightly yet confidently, eyes constantly bouncing between the hyena-fox's loins and his muzzle to watch for any change in expression.

Then a sharp, fuzzy prick, a strange ache, a sting, and he gasped. "Ah - hah-"

_ _

"Okay. Easy..." It retreated slightly, turned a little bit, slowly sank back in... "Better?"

"Y-yeah. Better."

"Warning you in advance..." Fyra tilted her head, leaning in closer. Aeon sighed as her breath curled out across him, warming the devilishly cold lube where it had congealed within the folds of his sheath. "It'll probably sting to pee for a few days after."

Aeon grimaced, then chanced a glance down. Fyra tilted the rod again - inside of him, inside of him, inside of his shaft - and this time when he felt that odd, deep pressure, it came without the accompanying fizzy sting.

"I remember you mentioned."

"It's kind of annoying. But it goes away as you practicing. Like taking it up the ass, y'know, in lots of ways. First few times are sorta rough..." She lifted herself up and leaned in. This time it was the sight_that made Aeon gasp, seeing his still fully soft, still sheathed shaft jiggle and lean with the movement of the rod inside of it, like a corn dog on a stick. "And it leaves you remembering _very sharply what you did. But it's just going slow, using enough lube, listening to your body, stopping if it hurts, sizing up slowly, and then..."

And to his surprise she completely let go of the road, strands of sticky lube briefly pulling between her fingerpads and the glistening metal. Aeon held his breath, and then let it out in a low, slow, shuddering sigh: there was that pressure again, only this time it spread out and down throughout his loins and the base of his shaft, buried deep within his sheath still inside his body. The only way he could identify it was as a cool warmth, slick and sweet and sensuous, pressing down across nerves that had never externally been touched like this: he watched, enraptured, as the other end of the rod slowly sank down towards his tip, the stiff metal guided smoothly down inside of him within his natural inner tubing, pressing lightly across internal walls, squishing and shaping sensitive flesh around itself.

It was a slow movement, tantalizing, grueling, almost infuriating in its pace, and for a moment he forgot about Fyra's initial warning and reflexively clenched in response. His sheath pulsed, his cock stirred, and the progress of the rod slowed, stopped, briefly reversed - he gasped again - and then continued, slowing down the deeper it sank... until the smooth mark signing the halfway point of the length nudged towards his tip, twirled gently against the shape of his insides, and finally sank inside. Like magic he watched as his sheath continued to stir, nerves tingling, blood pumping: bit by bit his shaft began to grow and stiffen, stirring free from his sheath, pushing up and out into the air. Globs of loose lube dribbled down the sides, and now he truly had no choice but to gently churn his hips, feeling the buried tip of the rod nudging at something down inside of him, each throb tightening the walls of his cock around it.

His head craned back, his claws dug into the sheets of the bed, his hips churned, he squeezed again, and thrust forward and up, and bit his lip, and held himself there a half-inch above the mattress while the sensation of this throb continued to vibrate through him, reverberated again and again back throughout his loins, seeming to only increase in intensity - and then after several intoxicating, grueling seconds, finally dribbling away. With a sharp huff the hyena-fox lowered himself back down, then looked to Fyra between his legs.

He swallowed. "What w-"

"Yeah. Yeah." She grinned, then reached forward and gently ran her fingerpads across his tip out of which the rod protruded. "Intense, right? Just wait 'til you see what it does when you cum. Those three, five seconds of blinding bliss?" Gently the hyena gave the rod a small twist. Aeon gasped, then sighed as she tugged it up an inch and released it, to let it sink right back in. "Stretches out just the same way. More like ten seconds. Feels like longer."

Aeon's ears flicked. His entire lower body tingled - "Show me?"

Fyra grinned again. "I would love to."

29. Vignette - Sounding/urethral penetration

Vignette leaned in over the side of the planter, mocha-furred paws pressing against the cement blocks slightly damp from the morning watering. Still the gentle, constant hiss of the system buzzed through the garden, casting phantom rainbows at the corners of the striped hyena's vision wherever he looked; the air had filled with the scent of soil and rich plant life, the vague floral touch of the hanging pots, the warmer chemical acridity of the pesticide he had just started using. Naturally he had gone for something that was just that: natural. Derived from another species through a process simple enough that he could do it here at home, the hyena felt no trepidation in brushing his paw through the leaves where he had sprayed it last night to see its effect.

His tall ears perked and his tail swished. It seemed not only had it succeeded in its goal of beating away unwanted visitors, but it had also accelerated the plant's growth: long, twisting vines trailed away from the center spot where he had planted the thing, still in its pot, into the rest of the soil. Everything he had read said that this species had a tendency to overgrow and overtake wherever it had space, reaching out and claiming everything within its grasp. The hyena nodded to himself, pleased, and leaned in a little further, now bumping his bare thighs against the edge of the planter as well.

This was his garden after all, and the cool mist felt pleasant against the smooth, soft fur of his body, along all of these places that normally rarely saw the sunlight. Vignette reached back to scratch at a faint tickling right above the base of his tail, likely one of the butterflies that had made its way in - then blinked, frowned, and felt at that spot again. Light and wispy, putting him more in mind of a spider... but when he turned to look it was just one of the vines from this plant, long and smooth and tapered, devoid of any leaf or nodule or hair. It seemed to stir in the air in response to his touch; Vignette tilted his head, leaned in a little closer, and pinched it between a forefinger and thumb.

The tip of it writhed. Thinking he had grabbed a worm instead, the hyena gasped and tried to take a half-step back, though instead found himself rooted in place - literally: upon a glance downwards he noticed more of those vines having reached out towards him, now coiling around his naked waist, drawing tighter, cutting little valleys in his plush fur where they squeezed down to the skin underneath. Confusion mixed with disbelief at first, more of a botanist's curiosity oozing through him instead of what should probably have been worry or panic... at least until another vine slid up between the hyena's thighs, coiling itself around the base of his hanging sack. It tightened gently, just enough to stretch the skin and squeeze everything downwards, then drew further up along that sensitive spot, tickling along the underside of his shaft.

Vignette tugged and pulled at the vines, trying to draw them free, but quickly felt his forearms restrained as well, and his legs pulled steadily further apart. The spot in the planter from which everything extended shifted and stirred as though some creature had buried itself there, though he knew it was nothing more than the same bundle of surprisingly dense roots that he had transplanted a few days past. Squirming in the thing's grips, the hyena jerked to one side, then the other, then forward - and felt his shaft and sack pulled forward as though in an eager paw, fingers of chlorophyll wrapped around the base, cupping along the back, tickling along the tight, sensitive spot between balls and tailhole. The vine that had wrapped around the base of his cock continued up, still coiling yet without squeezing; it angled his shaft up into the air, pointed it up and out, then ran tenderly along the underside...

...then curled back like a worm, tapered tip kissing against his own, tickling over smooth skin in a way that made his trapped footpaws kick. Then forward, and down; Vignette gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the pressure, for the pain - and instead felt only a sensation of deep, slick filling_as the end of the vine plunged _inside of him. There was a little bit of a tickle and tingle, something like claws being drawn across his skin, except coming from inside of his cock as the vine pushed deeper.

The strange appendage lifted him up towards his belly, and from where he stood restrained he could see the thing's progress inside of him, the angled shape of it pushing deeper inside of him, squeezing out at flesh and skin from within. He twitched, throbbed, felt himself squeeze down around it, and then encountered a bit of that resistance and discomfort; it stopped in its place and squirmed, and what a strange sensation it was to look down across his own body, at his own somehow half-hard shaft, and see what looked for all the world like a finger-sized worm wriggling within his own tubing. His cock shifted and flopped with the presence of the thing inside of it, the coils uncurling from around his length; it shifted forward, sagged down underneath its own weight, then held up and forward like meat on a spit, the plant plunging its way deeper, squeezing in past tender nerves and deep, squeezing flesh and hot meat and tight valves.

Despite the panic that coursed through his system, Vignette's body still responded and reacted to the sensation, his shaft continuing to stir around the intrusion, tightening further as his erection grew. He shifted and squirmed, breath coming and going in little gasps; each time he tried to tug back he felt the vine slurp back out of him, briefly gripping in place right at the rim where moist, sticky interior spilled over, and then sink back into him, the sensation coming equally from that spot between his thighs, between his sack and his tailhole, as it did from the end of his shaft. It felt like someone had reached all the way down and now ran a finger along that spot, pushing and poking and prodding, making him further shiver and kick.

Vignette's jaw creaked with strain, the hyena wanting at once to hold still to avoid any further of this odd sensation, and to wriggle and thrust and buck so he could get even more of it: it was at once pleasurable and uncomfortable, hot and sizzling, tingling and tickling. He shivered, let his breath out in a low, shuddering sigh, drew it right back in, pushed forward - and then gasped as the pressure against the end of his cock grew again. The first in a series of somewhat noticeable bulges pressed against his tip, paused there, then sank its way in, pushing out at him from inside, making him grimace and jerk.

Late summer - the heat of the sun warming the soil - the damp, sleek wetness of the sprinklers' mist. This rather vivacious plant sought somewhere warm and humid for its seeds, and - Vignette shuddered and swallowed - it had certainly found it.

30. Criticalshot1239 - Goo/slime

Zath leaned in to peer over the edge of the tank, feeling exactly the same as he had while he had sat in the booth down before the thick, coated plexiglass: he could neither continue looking at the display, nor could he bear to pull away. Peering down on it from above afforded a much different view of the action, the thick, inky black material - somewhere between goo, slime, sludge, and oil - stirring and swelling around as though it were some semi-liquid organism, like a school of tiny, miniscule fish swimming around for their next meal, wherever it might be.

A gentle prod at his back led the snow leopard to take another step forward across the platform, and directly into the column of simmering, swampy warmth that sizzled up from the pit. For some reason he had expected it to be cold, or least the same temperature as the air around, but instead his fur tickled, his whiskers twitched, his bare body tingled and adjusted to the sensation. Now he felt as though he were looking over a marsh, the dank, greasy surface bubbling faintly, noisome specks and splashes climbing up the walls of the containment unit and then oozing back down, leaving discolored smears where they went.

Like an organism... indeed there was something, some_one_, down inside of there. That had captured Zath's attention when he had first passed by, until that point completely oblivious to what the huge plexiglass tank contained other than some kind of black ooze. He had paused in front to watch the mesmerizing movements like a self-orchestrated dance of slime, a smile touching his muzzle for the wonder at how something like this could be possible. And then he saw the paw stretch out and smack against the glass, and the flash of a muzzle visible between roils of greasy tide, and then legs trying to kick and swim - only for tendrils of the stuff to coil back around and draw the victim down further, reaching into ears, mouth, nose, under the tail like long, many-jointed fingers.

But then the noises issuing from the tank, piped out through a contraption of microphones and speakers, sounded so close to pleasure instead of pain and panic. Close enough, in fact, that Zath had actually had to reach into a pocket to adjust himself upon listening for a while: when he closed his eyes to block out the sight, the combination of gasps, moans, gulps, and panting mixed with the wet, slurping slops and squelches of the slime tickled at his ears and imagination, so that when the overseer of the experiment stepped down and rested a paw on his wrist he jumped with surprise.

"Take his place," the strange fellow had offered, "or leave him to his fate. It's your choice."

_ _

"Why me?" Zath had asked. "Why is this responsibility mine?"

_ _

"It's not," the overseer had replied. When he opened his mouth Zath noticed that his lips, his tongue, his gums, were all the same oily black as the stuff inside the tank. "As I said, it's your choice. You can take his place, thus freeing him; or you may walk away, leaving him here until the next."

_ _

Horror mixed with fascination, with curiosity and no small amount of arousal - and now Zath stepped gingerly along the platform over the open top of the tank, his clothing discarded and that arousal on full display for whoever happened to pass on by, just like him. Many of them paused to watch the stirring sludge, and many more glanced up, looked away, then did a double-take upon seeing the naked snow leopard standing above the tank.

Their attention only made things harder for him. He swallowed, looked back behind himself at the overseer, then down at the roiling, boiling surface of inky slop. Was that another slime-smeared paw he saw breach the surface-? Zath took in a breath, swallowed, straightened up, squared his stance-

-and then another poke at his back robbed him of his balance. He teetered at the edge, swung his arms out for balance, lost it anyway, and felt the single second of freefall stretch out. As he fell he attempted to turn himself over onto his back, though only succeeded in making it halfway there before the slick, slimy, greasy, surprisingly warm surface of the stuff slapped against his fur and squeezed around him.

It felt like plunging his thumb into a cup of pudding halfway dried out, little caught pockets of air popping and sputtering around him as pressure readjusted and shifted, as the tacky surface bent, folded, snapped underneath him, then just as quickly sealed back around him. The warmth wrapped in around his arms, his side, his legs; he gasped for air, swallowed again, then wrenched his eyes and mouth shut - but those inquisitive inky fingers, tentacles, whatever they might be, pried these right back open.

He expected it to hurt, when it pressed its way into him. Grease coated the inside of his mouth, thick yet loose; he felt his jaw stretch open around the stuff as it pushed its way in, pulsing from deep inside, filling him in ways that he had never felt before. As though he were cradled at once in countless tiny hands as well as two huge ones, Zath felt himself turned this way and that, eyes unable to pierce through the sludgy darkness all around him; somehow he could still breathe despite how he was now fully submerged, and despite how his mouth had filled with the stuff. He squirmed, swallowed again, felt an odd, distant sensation stirring within his esophagus and down in his stomach, then gasped again: that was the slime inside of him, reaching down his throat and into his lungs, and - he jerked and shivered again, another extension of the amoebic gunk curling up around his thighs, cupping his sack and sheath, smoothly sliding into the tender spaces in between.

His eyes fluttered shut again, or at least as much as they could around the capillaries of black worming their ways behind them. A few past partners of his had enjoyed fishing their fingers or tongue around in his sheath, so this was quite a familiar feeling; the slime dug deeper, however, filling each and every little fold, wrinkle, and cranny, pressure building gently, sweetly, until he couldn't help but grind and thrust into the material all around him. Soft, wet tendrils curled in beneath his tail as well, tickling along the ridges of his tailhole, poking at the center of his pucker and then slowly, gently sinking into him... vaguely Zath was aware of a stirring to the side of him, the knowledge of that someone else here within the tank - and then he was alone.

That was just fine, though. He reached out, found the front wall, pressed his palm against it, and pushed back into the slop. I made a mistake, he thought, distantly; I should have let him be. I bet he didn't want to leave.

_ _

I certainly don't.