FSE

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Disclaimer - If a romp through adventures in anthropomorphic animal anatomy doesn't appeal to you, then I suggest that you turn back now while there is still hope. (This is a work of pornographic fiction. Please do not read if it would be illegal for you to do so.)

Getting the Joke

It's always weird thinking about history. People back then must have led such different lives than we do now. I mean, not that it could have been easy, but I always feel a little jealous; at least they'll be remembered. Not that I'm really complaining, I mean, working out in the agriculture district is actually kind of nice, even though there's plenty of space in the cities now as well. If I really wanted, I could move just about anywhere, but I think it'd just be too much. Too many people; too much noise. I can't even imagine what it would've been like seventy years ago when all of the buildings were filled to capacity and it wasn't a question of where you wanted to go, but more _if_there was any space there or not.

Everyone's heard about the great wars we used to have, but they are all like equally ancient history to me. The Punic wars and the great World Wars both kind of fall in the same place. There's no way we could wipe ourselves out with just guns or swords. It seems almost funny now when you see a glimpse of old war media, making it seem like the worst thing in the world was just_those_ people, the next district over, right where you crossed the invisible border of nationality.

I guess they didn't have a whole lot of other things to do though right? There were still quite a few natural resources, but there were predictions that they'd start to dry up. That's probably what did it. Not the actual lack of anything, but the looming specter of limited supply. It's not like they had to deal with any other big issues at the time.

The end of the human race had been a big deal though.

And no one knew exactly where it had come from. H1C6 had really just inexplicably been introduced into the world, and no one could figure out why. It could have been a biological weapon, but since there was no possibility of surviving it, I still think it must have just been an experiment gone wrong. But that was the insidious thing, although it had a one hundred percent mortality rate, there were almost no symptoms for the first five months. That, and the fact that it was so easy to spread, seemingly custom designed to latch onto the human genome and take its sweet time unraveling you from the inside. By the time they figured out what was causing the deaths it had been far too late, and ninety eight percent of the population of the world had been infected.

Than again, the population back then had been at what, eleven billion people? It was something like that. It was about what . . . one person per acre of land in the entire world, or something close to it. I can't remember the exact figure.

It must have been a real slap in the face though. All the wars and little conflicts stopped in a matter of days once people figured it out. Mind you, they were replaced by riots and cults and all kinds of crazy anarchic things, but why bother killing people when everyone was going to die in a few months anyways? Well, some people created hermetic chambers for the scant few uninfected to live in. That sounds like a disaster to me. Live in a sterile plastic room your whole life? I saw a documentary about a girl who grew up in one. Her parents kept her there because they wanted her to be safe. She lived there after her family wasted away (they refused treatment) for like twenty years or something, just eating canned food and recycled water. I think I'd go crazy . . .

Anyways, what an intellectual stimulus it must have been: Getting the greatest minds of the world to come together in a way that wasn't to show off or promote industry. It was suddenly the only way that humanity as we knew it was going to live for more than a year or two. There were labs and think-tanks set up everywhere. They started out national, but pretty quickly moved towards being something that transcended the old national boundaries. You could only have a country if there were still people living there.

The most famous, of course, was the Cantabrian summit. Everyone the world over has heard of it and the giant compound they opened up for scientists and philosophers alike. There must have been some amazing things going on there, but it's still pretty hush hush. I've heard there were a lot of . . . uhhh, casualties. They said that most of the test subjects were volunteers . . . I've heard that a lot of them were convicts and stuff though. But regardless, they managed to come up with a working idea . . . Mind you, the Cantabrian facility was technically owned by the Franco-Spanish government at the time, and they could have shaped the world as they saw fit with even the possibility of a way to slow down the disease, doling out life itself for money and power.

But that's were Lou Maxwell stepped in. It seems odd having a journalist at a scientific conference for the very survival of mankind itself, but as it turns out, her job was just as important as the guys who actually developed the cure. She's the one who made it public, got together with the scientists and made a detailed comprehensible schematic of the theoretical cure, the genome masking agent, and then she put it out on every feed-site, every radio wave, and every news paper. There were no patents, no trademarks, and nothing much to fight over after that.

Admittedly, the world had already suffered about a seventy five percent decrease in population by that point, and by the time that the countries actually got their cure manufactured and distributed, about nineteen in every twenty people that used to be alive had died.

We lived though. H1N6 was going to kill everything that was human, and so those glorious bastards found a way to make it so that we weren't human anymore. As it turns out, it's not as weird as it seems. Most animals are pretty much the same: two arms, two legs, two nostrils, two eyes, one mouth, one tail (or tailbone in our case,) mostly the same organs, etc . . . They found a way to hide everything we were under the genetics of other similar strands, and thanks to Maxwell, that information was flying all around the world.

Each nation had their own twist on it: Their own national ideal of what would be right and fitting, noble and yet practical. Most had stuck with canines, even going so far as to establish a national phenotype. You saw a lot of Yanks that still wore spots, and the Schnauzer-like mustache is still popular in Germany, or so I've heard. We stuck with the fox here. Probably because it was supposed to be clever. I'm surprised we didn't end up going with the lion though, I mean, it's on so many flags . . .

Anyways, I can still barely imagine what it must have been like, living for those thirty years or so as something completely non-human. Well, I mean, genetically I guess they were still "technically" human: the Summit made sure to wrap up the human genome nice and tight so that it could be retrieved at some later date. But still, it was like the world suddenly became something completely different: completely man made, and yet completely lacking in ostensible humanity.

From what I've heard, it really screwed around with the way that people thought. "Racism" became a completely different beast, based on where you received the cure rather than any kind of cultural precepts or features. It did make it easier to tell where people were from I guess, but even then, it must have been weird to have your parents tell you that you were actually something else under all that fur.

This was all a long time ago though, well, before my time anyways. The vaccine for H1N6 came out, and then most people started getting changed back. Most governments offered the process for free, but there were always some complications. I mean, it's a pretty invasive procedure. Not everyone wanted to take the risk, so every once in a while, you'll still see someone cured walking around with their weird legs, tails bobbing about behind them. It's generally the older generation though. Some people had kids during the crisis (another thing the Summit doctors foresaw the need to do,) but just about everyone had changed back by now and taken their children with them, despite the risks.

This is why I'm so surprised currently as I walk into The Yot Club after being stuck in my own reflections. It's one of my favorite places in the city. The building must have been really old, but they spruced it up and cleared out the clutter. Now there is a large floor in the middle for people to not dance on (the Charleston was coming back, but almost no one was able to do it properly.) In the middle of the floor, mingling with the crowd amidst the recorded notes of plucked bass and squealing trumpets was someone who was cured. She didn't look old though, more like around my age.

I wander over to one of the standing tables at the side of the open floor, near the back lit bar as I watch. No one else really seems to be looking at her. Perhaps they just have better manners than me, but I have to admit, I'm a little curious.

Her brownish fur with dark spots was slightly mussed up, but it just gave her an almost deliberately wild look as she drifted around the floor, dancing with no particular steps. The slightly tufted tip of her tail bobbed behind her through a hole in her tight green tinted denim pants and a thin mane of darker hair grew in up the back of her neck, cresting on the top of her head. She was just wearing a thin black tube top instead of a shirt, and her pert breasts pressed against the tight fabric, leaving her fuzzy midriff bared for all to see.

A hyena phenotype huh? That meant what . . . South African? I can see why they chose this particular animal. She looks very limber. The legs are a little weird though, like walking on stilts or something. It's a wonder that she's not wearing the leg braces that most of the digitgrade phenotypes wore, but maybe this was one of the few species that didn't need them. I swear, there was something else I'd heard about the South African phenotype . . . Something about neo-apartheid? No . . . that wasn't it.

Turning around, her eyes meet mine and her dark thin lips pull back from her muzzle in a smile. At least, I hope its a smile. It's probably weird having someone staring at you for so long. I blush and look down. But she's making her way over to the table. God, I hope she's not offended. Nervously, I run my hand through my hair, mussing it up as she walks up and leans in on the edge of the table, arms crossed in a self-confident way.

"Hello there stranger." Her voice is deep, but melodic, slightly rough but with an expressive undertone. "I couldn't help but noticing I'd caught your attention."

Now I felt like some kind of creep. "Oh, umm, sorry." I stumble around for words. "I'm just not used to seeing people still cured, you know . . . Well, not my age at least. Are you . . .?"

"My family's GDC. So I've been this way my whole life. Must seem weird to you huh?" She chuckled as she continued. "Dad moved up here to work with Cedar Corp. I'm going to University just up the way."

Ahh, she was a University girl. Well, that explained the revealing getup, even though I guess it's kind of less revealing when you're covered in fur. She was really forthright though; I'm surprised growing up like that didn't make her into some kind of introvert. "Oh, well it's a beautiful campus isn't it? I had to take my agrotech classes there."

"Oh, you're a farm boy are you?" Her eyes shine as the corners of her thin black lips twitch up and her ears twist merrily. "Well then, I'm sure it must feel nice to get back into the city after manning the tractors doesn't it?"

"Ah, you have no idea!" This is odd. I feel like the words are just flowing out of me at this point. "But I've got to say, working outside has its benefits. Lots of time to think and all. It's good to get back to the town after a week or two though."

"So, what's your name farm boy?" I can't help but blush as I realize I never asked her name either.

"I'm Adam, and you are?"

"Edith. Pleased I'm sure." She proffers her padded hand across the table and we shake. I can feel the heavy blackness of her matte claws and the fur between her fingers. It's a good name, 'Edith:' short and to the point. Very modern sounding.

"Hold on a sec." She smiles back at me as she walks a few steps over to the bar, says something that makes the bartender laugh and then begin to wield his various bottles, mixing with wild abandon. She soon begins to return with two drinks in highball glasses in hand. I watch her strange bare padded feet tense as they hit the ground. Wouldn't she be cold outside though?

My mind snaps back to the here and now as she slides me a glass filled with a dark purply-brown liquid inside that fizzes gently. "Uhh, thanks." It's weird to be getting drinks from strangers in a bar. Even more so from someone so . . . hyenine. "I'm afraid my beverage-based knowledge is pretty limited. What exactly is this?"

"Oh, tons of stuff." Her accent is more noticeable now that I take the time to listen. It's a little heavier than the standard British English, but nothing like a Glaswegian. More along the lines of light Welsh. "It's a Black Opal: An oldie, but a goodie. So . . . rum, berry liqueur, gin" She counts on her fingers, looking up towards the ceiling "And loads of other stuff. They're good, trust me." She grins her oddly endearing animal grin before she takes a heavy sip. She has to tilt her head back a bit more than a regu. . . uhh, than I would.

Well, I came here to have fun, so why not? I take a sip of the dark bubbling concoction, and although it's rather potent, it is unusually good. We both stare out across the floor, watching people bob next to each other as the music switches into a full big-band number.

"So, what's it like?" I ask. It seems a little too forward now that I've said it. Chalk it up to my usual blend of alcohol and social faux pas.

"What's _what_like?" She leans in and grins, showing her oddly blunt fangs. It was almost as if she wanted me to squirm a bit before answering.

"Well, you know, still being cured and all. I don't see too many people under the age of like fifty who are." I feel a bit ahead of myself, so I take another sip before going on. "If you don't mind me asking." I finish lightly.

"Well." She looks up at me as her mane bobs a bit and her ears twitch. "It's really not all that different I'd suspect. I eat whatever, don't need to buy shoes, and only shower once a week (toweling off is a real bitch, we had an antique full dryer installed back in Cape Town.)" She grumbles a bit before continuing. "Clothes are pretty easy if you are willing to commit textile butchery, and I have to take iron and magnesium supplements because my mom always told me to." She smirks and runs a black padded finger around the rim of her glass. "Any reason for being so curious?"

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "Nope. Just interested, you know. I saw you when I walked in and . . ."

"Did you like what you saw then?" She cocks her head to the side, mouth full of bared pointed pearly whites.

"Oh, umm. Well yes, but you see I'm not that big into . . ."

Her eyes harden as if she knows what's coming next.

"Women." I finish lamely.

"Ohh." Oddly, she seems relieved. "I'm not really either." She relaxes a bit before going on, obviously thinking about something. "So you're really curious hmm? I like that. It's a bit noisy here, so why don't we go find a quieter place to get to know each other.

Did she not hear what I said? "I'm not sure you really want . . ."

"Oh, it's no big problem. They've got back rooms with couches and little tables in 'em. Come on!" She beckons me with her broad paw-hand as she steps to the far side of the bar, downing her drink and leaving it on the corner. I feel socially obligated to do the same as I pass the edge of the bar.

My heart is pounding awkwardly in my chest and I'm tempted just to bolt for the front door. But for whatever reason, I find myself following her to the black painted push door that I thought was for employees only. She holds the door open for me as we walk into a short hallway, and she glances in a door on the right, flicking on the lights before we step in.

It's a little musty in here: smells like old cardboard. She's right though, there is a little table with three chairs, and a small well used corduroy sofa in the corner that's balding on the edges. She spreads her arms and falls back unto the loose cushions of the couch with a whumph. "So, you're really curious hmm? Most people just seem too up-tight to ask." She scratches the back of her head. "I've had some people call me a 'necessary scientific abomination.'" Her head rocked back and forth as she did her best old fogie impression. "But I think most people just think that outright asking me a question about myself would be somehow socially incorrect, like asking a veteran about a war or something. . . I was born after the whole H1N6 cycle though, so really, it gets a little old."

"Well, I'm glad that I fared better than most people then." I say as I pull a chair up and sit on the side of it, facing her as she sprawls out. "I'm just really genuinely curious you know? I guess it must not be all that different, but it just seems so . . ."

"Well, there are some perks." She crosses one leg over the other casually, foot paws flexing slowly, contrasting with her pea green pants. "If your,really curious I could show you."

It's so hard to get a read on this girl. I'm not sure if its the whole cured thing or if she's just incredibly mischievous. "Well I wouldn't want you to go out of your way." The room suddenly seems a lot smaller now that I'm trapped in here with my own inelegance.

"Oh, don't worry about it. You trust me don't you?" Rocking forwards, she gets up and walks towards me.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't think you're lying or anything."

"Good." Edith smiles as she fishes something out of her pocket: A small pill bottle with something rattling around inside. It's been a long time since I experimented with psychedelics. I mean, most everything was legal now, but I'm really not sure what this is supposed to be. "I want to show you something then."

With deftness that I wouldn't have thought possible with such broad hands, she pops the top off the bottle, shakes a single white round pill out onto her palm and then closes the lid. I'm about to protest before she opens her jaws and drops the pill in her mouth. I'm relieved. Maybe she just wants someone to watch her while she trips, and who knows, maybe she has some good stories . . .

My thoughts are interrupted as she leans in, grabs my collar, and pulls me into the strangest kiss I have ever had. Her fleshy pink tongue presses through my lips, and I can taste a bizarre medicinal bitterness on it as the pill begins to dissolve in our mouths. I'm so surprised that I don't know exactly what to do as her tongue laps across my own, black wet animal nose huffing against my face. The sensation is actually somewhat rough, more like a cat's tongue than anything else. The strange taste of the pill begins to fade quickly before she pulls back and licks her lips with a grin.

"What was that supposed to be exactly?" I sputter. It's not that it wasn't entirely unenjoyable, but it did seem a little bit too much to do all in one go. Are all cured people this . . . forward?

"Just a little something to help with the demonstration." Her arms tug at my shoulders and I begrudgingly get up as she moves us towards the couch. Her hands are actually quite strong as she gives me a playful shove and I fall back against the overstuffed golden corduroy that's gone soft from years of use.

"Demonstration?"

"Well, you wanted to know what it was like, so I'm just doing this for science." In a twisting motion that showed just how flexible her rather muscular body could be, she grabs the edges of her tube top and pulls it up and off in one fluid motion, bearing her dark nippled furry breasts as she lets the garment drop to the floor. "Also, I think you're cute."

She kneels down between my legs suggestively, the soft flesh of her breasts rubbing against me. "Look, I'm not really sure about this. I'm going to be frank here, I haven't been with a woman in . . . uhh, a long time . . ." I stammer, pushing my back against the couch as she reaches towards my fly.

"So, just a dry spell, or would you consider yourself a bisexual then?" She rests the soft furry bottom of her chin against my crotch as she looks up towards me with a coy grin.

"Uhh, yeah. I guess the second one sounds about right. But . . ."

"You really don't know the first thing about the South African phenotype then do you? Oh, your going to love this. Trust me." And with that she roughly tugged down my fly, pawed hand reaching against my slacks and pulling down my drawers, revealing my Judas erection as I could feel her whiskers brushing past it. "Things usually start around here, so I'm just going to help them along a bit." Her pink tongue lapped gently against the head of my cock, already cradled in her suede-like hand.

"Ahh! Things? What things are you talking about exactlllllllaaaaaaoogh!" My words turn into a surprised shout as she opens her maw wide and slides her muzzle down over me until her wet nose huffs against my crotch. My hands reach out and hold onto her head, the soft fuzzy flesh of her ears twitching between my fingers as she bobs her mouth. The sensation is immense, unlike anything I've ever felt before, and I can feel every ridge of her animal palate scrape across me as her rough tongue slathers my member in wild affection. There's something else too. Some odd feeling I can't place, like my dick is twisting and clenching weirdly with each mind blowing lap.

I feel like I'm about to come as her hand reaches down into my clothes, curling around my balls and squeezing with gentle pressure, making my back arch as she picks up the pace. My testes feel better and better as she rubs them, beginning to grind in with clenching grasps that should have hurt like hell, but instead, it just felt amazing as my scrotum tightened up, clenching like mad. The steady squeezing pressure of her mouth is making my dick throb even as she mashes my balls together so roughly in her hand.

Pulling back with a drawn out flourish of her lightly raspy tongue, she gives my nose a quick little lick. "Now we're getting somewhere." She finishes with that particular hyenine smile.

Looking down, I feel a physical jolt of panic run through my spine as I see my crotch. "W-what? Is that . . . ?" My member has changed somehow, it looks different: the skin taking on a dark smooth sheen while the base has a little roll of furry skin around it, like some kind of animal sheath. It's certainly grown a little longer, and wider at the base, but it's oddly tapered towards the chiseled tip. I can't help but moan as I touch it just to make sure its real. It feels different, a little more intense than I'm used to, but in a new body-wide sense. The slit at the top is different too, way bigger than it should be as my mind races to make sense of what's happening.

"Oh lord, you have no clue how much that is a turn on for me." Her hand rubs at the crotch of her tight greenish pants as her other slowly unzips her fly. Is this just whatever was in that pill? I really don't feel like I'm tripping as she tugs down her pants and I can see the bulge in her tight black athletic looking panties.

"Please, just tell me." I stop to pant for a second as my hand wanders over my altered cock down to my now oddly pliant and sensitive testes. "What's going on? Is this safe?" I try to line up my thoughts as my stomach starts to feel itchy under my shirt.

"What? Oh, I figured someone as interested as yourself would have done this before. Don't worry, it's just a Septacycline. Perfectly harmless, wears off in two hours or so." She lets out an oddly arousing cackle. "You've got a lot to learn fast lover boy." And with that she hooks a thumb under the edge of her tight underpants and slowly tugs them down, making my eyes widen as she reveals a throbbing thick shaft with tight fuzzy testes nestled underneath. Just about like my own.

I've never heard of Septacycline. This seems impossible. . . but something clicks in the back of my head. I remember the story about the savant in charge of the South African phenotype. He'd found an animal with incredible digestion, immunology, musculature, and genetics. However, people were rather shocked when they found out that the female phenotype produced more testosterone than the males. They also had a . . . little extra addition. It was too late to change things around at that point though. I can't quite remember the rest of the details as my head swims . . . Wait, does this mean that I'm a . . .

"You're a man of many words I see." She pushes her body up against mine, hands rubbing against my chest through my thin white shirt. "Well, partially at least. Let's see if we can change that." With amazing deftness, her paws begin unbuttoning my shirt as she buries her muzzle in the nape of my neck, inhaling noisily and licking my smooth skin with her textured tongue.

Gritting my teeth and leaning my head back, I can feel the strange pins-and-needles sensation of fur rushing up my torso as she pulls herself against me. Her thick black nipples press against my chest, and I start to pant heavily as she laps up against the underside of my chin. This is all just happening so fast that I can barely make sense of it.

A pressure is building up in my chest as she rubs her body against mine, and I look down in shock as I see my own pectorals begin to swell, nipples widening and gaining a dark almost black pigmentation as they rub against her own. The feeling of my skin bulge out into pert mounds as soft fur subsumes my forming taut breasts is indescribable as I feel something behind me, and then let out a sharp animal yelp that sounds odd even to my own ears. It felt like something just bit me.

"Oh dear. I think I forgot about that part. Come here you." She says playfully as she falls back onto the couch and pulls me down on top of her, our bodies colliding in a tangle of limbs as she wraps her long legs around me. Something is cracking, pushing out in little shoves right over my spine, but its hard to focus on the sensation as both of our strange black chiseled members are grinding together between us, leaking out a clear hot passion that is somehow just leaking into my senses, making a slow steady pressure rise up inside of me.

The muscles of my backside are going wild as a twitching nub of a thick tufted tail jerkingly pushes out, teased by one of her arms that wraps around behind me, teasing the base just where it connects just above my ass that twitches as the new appendage moves with a mind of its own, though I can feel every tug reverberate through my spine.

My breasts (god it feels strange to even think that) twinge with a warm solid pleasure as they press against her own. I can feel the light fur with dark spots running down my thighs with its prickly hot presence, covering my legs as my feet then begin to twist, pulling out longer as my toes bulge into proper heavy hyena paws while her own feet scrape against my legs, claws running through my thick pelt as my tendons pull tight and my toes splay out, nails thickening into dark claws.

She's Lapping up my chin with her fleshy tongue, and I can hear my jaw begin to creak out as my face stretches into the bottom of my vision. I can't describe the feeling as my whole head strains even as our bodies rock together and she pushes forwards, eyes beaming, drawing me into a deep kiss. As she laps over my gums the sensation is intense while my teeth haltingly become bluntly pointed, filling out my growing muzzle as my own tongue widens and grows its own rough textured surface that scrapes against her own.

My tail is patting wildly against my leg in a rhythmic tattoo as she reaches up and tugs at my ears while they grow round and smooth, covered in dun fuzz as they pull up towards the top of my head. My own hands are between us, swelling padded fingers absentmindedly groping our breasts together as my vision shifts slightly, colors at once muted and yet somehow more distinct as I look into her deep dark brown eyes.

Her paws press up on my shoulders as I pant, tongue lolling out the side of my mouth. In a single deft move she rolls over, inverting us so that she is on top, straddling my body, her fuzzy balls pressed tightly against my own strangely altered scrotum, our black shafts connected by a thin rope of clear viscous gel.

"Hmmm." she groans happily. "You see, when us ladies get together, there are a few more, let us say, options available to us." She grinds her hips forwards to make her point, hot shaft pressed against my own. "But sometimes it takes a little change in perspective to get things rolling." Her breasts jostle as she reaches a paw down, squeezing our shafts together as she begins to stroke. "We could just keep playing like this." She punctuates her words with a sharp clench of her paw. "Or, we can get down to business. And I think I know which one you want hmm?" She bares her fangs happily over me.

I hardly even know what to think, much less say at this point as all of my focus is on my altered member being stroked up and down against her own turgid shaft. "W-what, you mean like uhh. . . anal?" It sounds stupid as the words leave my thin black lips and I stumble over my new tongue.

"Ohhh, that would be fun wouldn't it . . . but you want to try out your new equipment don't you? Hmm, can't you just imagine me inside of you, so tight and hot." The words sink into my head, and a strange feeling rises up in the pit of my stomach. It feels like a slow smouldering burn is spreading out from my crotch in the best of ways. But I still can't figure out what she's talking about . . .

"There you go, now you're getting in the mood." Her paw rubbed at my cock, and it felt different, I looked down in stunned silence at what I saw. My cock was bunching up, pulling back like some turgid sleeve of a fleshy sweater. "That's just your body's way of letting you know that it's ready." She lines her still hard member up against my warping scrunched fleshy rod's slit. "For this." And with that hissed syllable, she slides impossibly inside of me, making the now taut flesh of my changed member bulge and quiver.

I can't even begin to describe the sensitivity as she pushes in further. It's like every nerve in my body is on fire and I can feel ever contour of her hot hyenine member inside of me. I can smell her animal musk as we embrace in a tangle of strong furry limbs, my tail slapping around wildly as she begins to bob her hips, sinking in deeper and deeper, setting my senses on fire as she pounds into my new impossible female organ.

My blood feels like it's boiling, and all I can think about at this point is getting_more_.

A sudden growl escapes my lips, and I reach up, filled with a new boldness as I pull her into a savage kiss while my own hips start to rock in time with her thrusts. I pull my legs up and wrap them around her waist, heavy padded foot-paws wriggling as I rasp around her mouth with my tongue. Her member is beginning to twist and jerk inside of me as I pull myself against her, mashing our false testicles together as my whole body goes taut.

It starts with a single muscular twinge, but soon cascades into a series of unstoppable body-wide contractions as I clench around the member inside of me and the black tight flesh of my bunched up cock undulates as my insides squeeze wildly. She pulls her head back, pupils dilating as I clench around her with inhuman strength.

The raging passion of my climax is relentless and we both desperately rock and whine, claws combing through thick fur, beads of saliva dripping unnoticed from the corners of my mouth as we fuck each other for what seems like hours amidst the reek of hot dark hyenine lust.

* * *

We both lay there as the room stops spinning. The only sound is our heavy breathing as she slides out of me. Somehow, in the heat of things, I ended up on top again and I can feel her warmth underneath me as I lay back and my strangely stretched hyenahood begins to slowly pull back inside of my fuzzy sheath.

"So." She whispers in my ear. "Does this give you any insight into what it's like?" Her paws wrap around my midriff gently.

I just lay there for a second in her enveloping arms before responding. "Pretty much the best fucking thing ever?" My voice is a little raw from all of my previous bouts of screaming.

She giggles at that. Or laughs? Maybe more of a cackle. It's actually a rather pleasant noise. "Yup." She kisses my neck just above my shoulder. "That's pretty much it."