FSE

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An establishment with advanced, lifelike animatronics sounded too good to be true to somebody like Dashy. A scientist by trade, a nerd by choice, he took great interest in most things technological and the broad spectrum of theoretical sciences. Machines capable of walking and talking autonomously were like something taken from an Asimov novel. Dashy had to see for himself.

The young red fox looked up at the neon sign. It declared to a world not quite ready for it the name Freddy Pimpbear's Pussy. It glowed down on him with hot, noxious colors and gave him cause to feel self-conscious all over again. Dashy was not the type to visit a titty club and he was painfully aware how much like an excuse his reason for visiting seemed.

Dashy nearly went home when he saw the bouncers out front. One was a stallion, the other a cougar. Dashy made an educated guess that he weighed as much as one of their legs. They regarded him with unkind eyes which the fox recognized as those of nerd-pummeling ex-jocks. But they surprised him with an articulate welcome as they ushered him into the club, paying no mind to the backpack slung over his shoulder.

Like any other patron of Freddy Pimpbear's Pussy, Dashy was stricken first by the scent of pizza. He had missed the livery out front promising just that, having been too occupied by his shame. He regretted having eaten lunch before coming. Pizza would have been better than the sandwich he had; but he hated studying on an empty stomach and didn't want to chance it.

Tugging his buttoned-down shirt collar and walking briskly, Dashy cut a quick path through the empty foyer, paying no mind to the framed portraits of the animatronics. He emerged into the colorful, seedy world of the club and asked himself where to begin.

Freddy Pimpbear's Pussy was a gentleman's club like most others, featuring a moody atmosphere undermined by dance beats and colored lighting rigs shooting kaleidoscopic rays on and around the stage.

Dashy saw a dancer at work. She was a pretty white and pink vixen with lacy stockings - and nothing more. Immediately he felt that she was not a machine. Her movements were too fluid. The animatronics were probably kept in the back, lashed to their power supplies, Dashy surmised; or they were such abominable things that only niche clients dared to ask about them. The idea of embarrassing himself to see the machines made Dashy break into a cold sweat. He wiped his brow off on the back of his arm and left a smear on his sleeve.

Needing refreshment, Dashy stepped up to the bar. "Excuse me, sir, I'd like a drink if you don't mind. Though I understand if you're busy, I'm terribly sorry if that's the case," he shamefully blurted.

The bartender blinked at Dashy before he smiled thinly. He knows, Dashy thought with another heaping of shame. "What'll it be?" the bartender coolly asked.

Dashy saw the bartender to be a mutt-dog, nothing more or less than that. He made a mental game out of guessing what his parents were from his facial structures. He gave up a few moments in and asked with a nervous smile, "Apple cider, please?"

The bartender nodded softly. "Sure, we have that," he agreed, and he filled Dashy a mug of chilled apple cider. "You wouldn't like this mixed with anything?" he warily asked.

Dashy shook his head. As if that weren't enough, he added, "No, I'd like it by itself, please." He took his cool cider from the bartender and sipped it in silence.

Self-consciously, Dashy sat at the end of the bar well away from the other patrons. He debated whether or not to drink alcohol. While it might loosen his inhibitions, so would it diminish his returns when he actually got to study the animatronics. His quandary was cut short when the patriarchal Freddy Pimpbear leaned against the counter and peered down his short snout at the tod.

"Well, hello there," Dashy managed to say. "You are, um, probably Freddy, right? This is a very nice club, I was just admiring it, and--," but Freddy started to laugh, hushing Dashy right up.

"Wordy little man," Freddy winked. "You seem nervous, boy. Why not tell papa bear what's eating you?"

Freddy took to the stool beside Dashy. It creaked under his wide ass. "Um, well," Dashy started, "I'm a scientist, you understand, I study most acutely the application of theories, in the layman's terms. While I was at university today, I overheard one of my colleagues," he paused to sip his cider, "speaking about a club - this club - which normally wouldn't be of much interest to me..."

"You don't say," Freddy flatly interjected.

"Oh, it's true, I don't actually think of sex very often. I'm," he nervously chuckled, "married to science, I suppose?"

Freddy nodded. He sucked his bottom jowl absently. "Well go on, son. What's all that got to do with papa bear's den?"

Dashy blushed at the terminology. "Well, you see, my colleague said this place has animatronics in it, but that they were lifelike. They could hold conversations, and move in a convincing manner, and also seemed capable of," his blush imperceptibly brightened, "sexual intercourse."

"How about that," Freddy grinned, scratching his chin. "Could you imagine a machine being able to do all those things?"

"It's farfetched, isn't it?" Dashy giggled. "The robotics team at uni barely managed to get a robot eye and hand to see and grasp an apple. And here's a gentleman's club with... With synthetic people. It's unheard of."

Freddy thrust out his paw. Dashy uneasily took it and found his mitt enveloped by Freddy's. The coldness of the bear's paw struck him first and foremost. Just as a startling revelation occurred to him, the pimp cooed, "Nice to meet you, son. Freddy Pimpbear, papa bear of the patriarchy, synthetic bear." He winked one of his big, blue eyes.

"I... You're?" Dashy blurted. He was, for once in his life, speechless.

The Pimpbear chuckled in good humor and nodded. "So tell me, you cute little nerd, you," Freddy teased, "would you like to run some experiments with papa bear?"

"Well, actually, ah," Dashy was quick to blurt, "thank you, it's very flattering, but, but--," he stammered.

"You like the ladies?" Freddy laughed. "You happen to be in the right place for that, you know. That Pussy in the name isn't just for show!"

Dashy was reluctant to use the term. He nodded slowly with his ears splayed back.

"There you go, then," Freddy said with a soft clap on Dashy's shoulder. "How's about you and papa bear go scare you up a girl to study?"

"Oh, there isn't a rush," Dashy said nervously. "And I'd imagine they're working with other customers who require their attention more, right?"

Freddy narrowed his eyes and smiled tightly. "Everybody deserves attention at Pimpbear's Pussy, son. What are you drinking there?"

"Apple cider," Dashy answered. "Oh, it's non-alcoholic."

"Bullshit to that," Freddy announced. Before the fox could say otherwise, which was difficult over a boisterous creature like Freddy, the bear demanded that the bartender pour the young man a hard cider on the house.

When presented with the drink, Dashy smiled thinly. "Really, that's okay, I typically don't drink. It interferes with my study."

But Freddy nudged it closer and patted his shoulder again. "One drink's not gonna kill you, son. Might loosen things up a little, get you in the mood to," he chuckled, "study the talent."

Dashy gave into the peer pressure relatively easily. He picked up the frosty glass and murmured, "Well, one drink shouldn't hurt... Even considering my body weight and inexperience, and the average alcohol content of hard cider, I don't--," he rattled on when Freddy patted his thigh.

"Just drink," the bear calmly said, before miming tossing one back. "Sip it, gulp it, do it however suits you. But drink it."

The fox nodded. He started to drink in little gulps, finding the tartness pleasant but the fermentation a bit troublesome to stomach. He suppressed his distaste and drank it all down rather quickly. "Well, that was quite refreshing," Dashy remarked, "but I think that's enough for me."

"One more," Freddy said, holding up a finger. He called for it and the bartender filled his glass again.

Dashy, not wishing to draw the pimp's ire, downed this one too. The first glass was just hitting bottom and he felt a buzz washing over him, granting everything an edge of ill-defined fuzziness. "Oh, that's how that feels... This is the first time I've been inebriated in a public setting, especially in a club. In fact, I believe this is the first gentleman's club I've ever been in."

Freddy and the bartender exchanged looks. The dog shrugged.

The fox prattled on. "Hmm, I can sort of understand why some men come here so often," he glanced at Freddy, "if they're easily taken in by nudity and drinking."

Freddy choked back a laugh. "Come on, son," he urged. "Papa Pimpbear's gonna introduce you to some ladies."

Little Dashy had no hope of arguing with Freddy in a buzzed state. He was so unused to the sensation of drunkenness that he went along with the bear passively, leaning often against his tubby gut with the mildest tones of homoeroticism. He chattered on and on along the way on nearly every subject imaginable. The compliments he had for the designers of the animatronics were as glowing as they were curiously articulate and long-winded. Dashy expressed his fascination with the juxtaposition of pizzeria decor against a gentleman's club and its implied sleaze. Freddy would never admit to it, but he turned his aural receptors off as he led the fox along.

The white vixen was occupied with guests whom watched her tirelessly dance, swinging around the greased pole to a cacophony of hoots and cheers. Tellingly, Dashy watched her closely, but when Freddy asked if he liked what he was seeing, the well-spoken fox had only questions about the types of motivators she had and what her range of motion was. Freddy rolled his eyes and led him further along, this time to the VIP room corridor.

Open doors meant no guests were being entertained in a given room. Freddy peeped into Foxy's den of fake loot and other pirate paraphernalia. He saw the vixen sitting on her bed, the young mechanic nearby just closing up his toolkit.

"Hey Foxy - you busy in here, baby?" Freddy called to her. Both Foxy and the blonde-haired mechanic looked over.

Catching sight of Dashy around Freddy's bulk, Foxy put to work her pirate drawl. "Neh, me cabin boy here was just givin' me the ol' once-over," she said. "Who ye got thur with ya?"

"Well, Foxy," Freddy chuckled as he led the confused Dashy inside, "this little man here whose name I didn't get is interested in studying you, seeing how you come apart and what makes you move."

Dashy and the mechanic shared looks. The latter smiled politely and ducked out of the room without a word. Dashy then looked at Foxy whom stood and padded near. With her bottom-heavy curves and full breasts dressed in shaggy, reddish-orange fur, she looked like a real woman, one as ready to fight as she was to fuck. One paw was missing, replaced with a hook, and she had an eyepatch and a few gold teeth. Dashy shyly observed her pierced nipples.

"Well, well, well," Foxy growled. She reached out and tucked the side of her claw under Dashy's chin to raise it up. She loomed better than half a foot taller than the young fox. "What's yer name, laddie?"

"Oh, uh, you can call me Dashy," he bleated.

Foxy looked at Freddy, then back at Dashy. She flipped her eyepatch up to reveal that both her yellow eyes were unmarred. "So ya' wanna be me cabin boy, do ye, Dashy?"

Uncertainly, Dashy turned to Freddy. The bear nodded and winked, grinning hugely. "Yyyes," Dashy said as he slowly turned back to Foxy. "I'd like to be your cabin boy, miss Foxy."

"Real stuffy lad ya' brought me here, Pimpbear," she spat to Freddy. "Gonna take me hours t'get this one actin' like a real man!"

"But Foxy, all he wanted was to study you," Freddy sneered. "You're not so easily taken in by nudity, right, Dashy?"

The tod wished he were inclined to confirm, but he stared at Foxy's breasts. With that wordless answer, the bear showed himself out.

"Lemme tell ye somethin', lad," Foxy growled as she walked over and locked the door. Nearby was a dimmer switch and she lowered the lights with her hook. "Yer not gonna be studyin' me."

"I'm--, I'm not? I really only wanted to observe how you... Move and talk and the like, I didn't actually want to disassemble you," he answered in a tiny, excusatory voice. He slipped his backpack off and put it on the bed, believing he would need his equipment soon.

Foxy grabbed Dashy by the shoulder and slung him onto the bed. He squeaked when he landed and watched her with a high-octane blend of fear, thrill and arousal as she skulked around the bed. Her eyes glowed in the dim light. The great brush of her tail swayed side to side, and she grinned to show her teeth. "Yer gonna be real familiar with how I move before ye leave, boy." The vixen climbed over him, straddling his legs. With the greatest of care, she rubbed his tenting groin with the blunt, smooth backside of her claw. "Now you tell me, laddie," she growled. "Do ye wanna be Foxy's cabin boy?"

That Foxy was an alluring women was obvious to any man with eyes. Dashy did not realize that the animatronics also had musk: Foxy's feminine scent, though mixed in a lab, was indeed a cocktail of vixen pheromones. He had no chance whatsoever of defying the scent of her wet cunt. "Yes..." he whined.

"Well, lad, bein' the cabin boy entails a lot of work, aye?" she said with a nudge of her hook up under his chin. "Ye gots t'be devoted! Proud of yer work! Do ye understand, boy?" Dashy nodded slowly, but Foxy sneered, "Don't figger ye do, laddie. I'm gonna teach ye how t'be the cabin boy."

"Oh, ah, what does it entail? I've never had any kind of nautical experience, and I--, well, I can barely tie a knot," Dashy admitted. Foxy seemed not to listen as she twisted around. Dashy was naive enough to have no idea what to think when the vixen's wide ass loomed above him. He could only blink when her cool, warm cheeks crushed against his muzzle and promptly enveloped it. The musk there was thickest of all. Between her scent, the throttling of his air and the taboo shame, Dashy became more docile than ever.

Foxy snapped up Dashy's backpack with a curious smirk. "Yer, lessee the booty ye brought me, lad," she murmured.

Oh no, not the backpack, Dashy thought in a panic. He whined and thrashed but the vixen was particularly heavy, certainly more so than even her above-average height would suggest. It slipped the fox's mind that he was dealing with an animatronic. Foxy however quashed his struggling when she ground her ass down harder still. "'Old still under there, laddie, and get that chatterin' tongue to work on me arse'ole!"

Ashamed but compelled to obey the domineering vixen, Dashy lapped across her quivering, snug anus. The knowledge that she was a machine without biological functions calmed the worries which would have normally prevented him from doing such a taboo thing. And in a damning way, Dashy found that he liked doting on the pirate like so. He stroked her thighs with unsure paws, and though his nerves began to fray again when he heard his backpack's zipper, he kept rimming the vixen.

"Hrrm, lessee," Foxy murmured. She carefully dug the meticulously-packed items out of Dashy's backpack. "One o' them soul-stealin' movin' picture boxes," she mused, setting his Handycam aside. "Measurin' sticks, vials fer holdin' fluids, a lil' notebook... Heh! You're one of them nerdy types, ain't ye, boy?"

Dashy would admit to that readily. He slobbered and sucked hurriedly upon Foxy's quivering asshole with hope to placate or distract her before she dug much deeper into the backpack.

Foxy was always thorough when it came to loot, however, and she found the tod's shameful secret underneath a plain extra shirt: she unfurled his lacy green panties, hook in one hip and fingers in the other. She wolf-whistled obnoxiously. "By the guidin' stars!" she cackled. Eager for more and still grinding her fat ass down on Dashy's snout, Foxy reached in and grabbed the rest of the lacy garments. In matching colors, she found a teddy, stockings, and arm warmers. She laughed almost madly and suddenly pulled her ass off of the boy's face. Grinning hugely, she whipped around and stared accusingly into his eyes.

"Thuh-they're a comfort thing, I just like to touch them sometimes when I'm writing my notes, I like--, I like the way silk feels on my body," Dashy ashamedly rambled.

Foxy sniggered through much of his talk. She draped the panties over his face and growled, "Ye ain't no cabin boy. Yer a wench!" And again, she howled with laughter. Rolling off of Dashy and subsequently planting her feet on the floor, Foxy commanded, "Dress up in yer girly clothes fer me, wench!"

"I'm not a wench, I just--, I-I just--!" Dashy stammered. Foxy chuckled wickedly, and the young scientist knew he had no choice. He didn't necessarily want a choice, however. He climbed out of bed and thoughtfully rearranged his items sans lady clothing back in his bag, which he then set aside. Only then, when he was through stalling as much as he possibly could, he shed his clothes. In doing so he revealed his delicious twink body, patterned with blue tattoos looking like an approximation of his circulatory system. Also bared in the process was his erection, which was modestly sized, also blue, and canid in shape. A bead of pre drooled from its tip, and soon after Dashy slid the panties on, his natural lubricant created a small stain in them.

The lurid pirate draped herself belly-down on the bed with shapely legs bent at the knees and crossed. She propped her head up on her paw and flipped her eyepatch down. "Yerrr, y'dress up real purty fer me now, wench," she growled, ever grinning and wagging her tail. Besides its playful effect, her tail also fanned her musk around the room.

"I--, mmf," Dashy sighed, at a loss for words. He rolled on the arm warmers and straightened the teddy. Before the vixen with his tented panties and frilly things, the young fox felt a queer mixture of rightness and discomfort. That Foxy was ogling his girly appearance invoked more ambivalence, both thrill and fear. "Is this what you wanted?" he timidly asked.

"Yar, it sure be," Foxy nodded. In spite of her pleasure from Dashy's attire, Foxy craved so much more. She lunged off of the bed smoothly for a woman of her size and construction.

Dashy gasped and flinched away from her suddenness but the vixen snapped him up fast. She kissed him harshly and growled a deep, sultry rumble down into his maw. With a tongue naturally stronger than Dashy's, she slathered the inside of his maw and deposited her own stringy, synthetic drool to leave the nerdy boy feeling spectacularly used, but not even that was enough for the pirate. She peeled down the panties she had just demanded he wear and slid her fingers between his ass cheeks. The fox tensed and whined, but Foxy noted that he pressed closer.

Foxy rubbed the tender pucker of Dashy's anus. Under her finger pads, it winked and clenched. The vixen broke off the kiss but kept her scraggly snout close to his. "Rrr-hrr, real nice fuckhole y'got here, wench," she grumbled. She dared not penetrate Dashy dry but the rubbing was ceaseless. Under her firm ministrations, Dashy shuddered and huffed. He ground his cock, yet enveloped in his soft panties, against her full thigh.

Ceasing her teasing rubbing, Foxy wrapped her paw around the boy's shoulder and shoved him onto the bed. He landed without a cry this time and the fall put him belly-down. He looked back at the vixen with his tail instinctively low.

Coming near with a sneer on her face, Foxy caught Dashy's bushy tail inside the curve of her hook and tugged it away. Again she reached for his taut little ass, and this time she pulled a cheek to the side. Gazing with her one bare eye, Foxy murmured, "Aye, real nice pussy on ye, wench - almost s'nice as yer cap'in's."

The use of that particular term for his anal entrance almost set Dashy off on a pedantic, if not well-meaning diatribe. Foxy shut up even his most determined of arguments when she buried her snout in his ass. Her wiry snout fur tickled him through his fluffier coat and left his cheeks tingling. But the main draw was the sudden, slobbery rimjob Foxy gave her new plaything. Dashy had felt a hint of her tongue's tenacity in the kiss; now he felt what the vixen was really capable of, and the rimming reduced him to a grunting, crooning mess in short order. The moans he let loose even had a feminine air to them. Foxy chuckled devilishly as she ate the boy out.

Dashy gripped the sheets and curled his toes. Foxy would have loved the look of despondent pleasure on his face. Being so barely content with his own crossdressing made Foxy's abuse of the quirk all the more arousing in a submissive, nearly masochistic way.

"Ya' like havin' yer pussy munched, y'little tart?" Foxy asked from between Dashy's ass cheeks. She caressed his sumptuous anus with the most careless of laps. His ass crack was saturated with the vixen's drool.

"Uh-huh," Dashy meekly replied. "It's very, very pleasant..."

"Figgered s'much," Foxy snickered. It was then that she gave Dashy the very best she had. She wriggled her tongue into his quivering pucker, penetrating it and opening it up around her dense oral muscle. Dashy gasped and whined. He clenched around the invading flesh. Foxy teasingly pinched his ass cheek as if to scold him, but her tongue ventured in until she could shove it no farther. Her jaws were open wide in the twink's ass crack and he could feel her many threatening teeth pricking his tender areas. Dashy was in bliss.

It was when the vixen started to tonguefuck him, however, that Dashy became truly useless. The nerdy fox rolled back his eyes and closed them snugly. Within the grip of Foxy's hook, his tail swayed a short arc. There was nothing he could do but hang onto the bed as Foxy worked. This was not the first time Dashy had had his rear tongued, but the sheer determination and skill with which Foxy went at it made the act feel new and unfamiliar to him. He groaned infrequently, finding himself too self-conscious to really let loose.

Foxy's eating made up for Dashy's hushed moans. It was the lewdest noise the boy had ever heard. She suckled and slobbered, growling and snuffling excessively. The drool made a great number of dirty sounds as her plunging tongue displaced it. His taint was spectacularly damp with the liquid and his cock throbbed helplessly.

In what was a strange touch to Dashy, Foxy released his tail and stroked up his spine with the backside of her hook. By then the ass-eating was wearing down. She slopped her tongue back and held his cheeks apart with paw and hook to admire the slobbery, loosened pucker therein. The vixen wore one of her more snide grins when Dashy looked back at her. "Now, a real wench's gotta be able t'please the men..."

"Oh, ah, are you going to go get Freddy in that case?" he asked with a twinge of worry.

Picking up on the twink's concern, Foxy shook her head and stood up straight. "Neh, ain't none 'o the Pimpbear's business," she spat. "Stay there, y'trallop! Face down, arse up!" And as the twink shyly complied, Foxy crooned, "Yarrr, just like that."

The vixen popped open the wooden chest in the corner by jabbing her hook tip in the keyhole. Dashy watched from his disgraceful position as she rifled through the items inside, never removing anything, merely moving them outside of his view. But soon she took out a bottle of what was obviously lubricant, followed by a brown dildo which she made no effort to hide. Dashy freely gawked at it with wide eyes.

"Couldn't help but look, could ye, me little harlot?" Foxy sniggered. She held the dildo around its bottom inches and wagged it side to side. The silicone flesh was every bit of eighteen inches, equine in shape, sporting big, firm balls at the base. A leather hip harness was lashed to it. "I call this one the peggin' leg! Yer gonna be real acquainted wit' it, girl!"

"That's too big for me!" Dashy yelped, but Foxy was having no part of such weakness.

She knelt on the bed near the twink and started off by slicking her fingers with the lube. When they were utterly soaked, she shoved Dashy down flat and straddled his legs; he kept damningly still. Uninhibited, Foxy worked her lubed digits into his well-slobbered anus. Though Dashy grunted and shivered, he seemed to enjoy the fingering.

Foxy took it further by massaging the twink's prostate with skillful beckons at the same time as she kneaded his lower back with the back of her hook. "Mighty tight pussy ye got 'ere, wench," she growled. Again and again she pumped him, working his asshole with two well-lubricated digits. The viscous liquid smeared all along his anal walls and the mere presence of her fingers helped to open the passage up - but the absurd girth and length of the horsecock nearby overshadowed what dilation Foxy inflicted on him.

"Oof... Ooh," Dashy puffed. It stood to reason that an effeminate fox with an emergency kit of girly clothing enjoyed being penetrated. He clenched rhythmically around Foxy's fingers and his tail brushed across her face where it was nipped and playfully blown upon.

"Feelin' good, lass?" Foxy evenly asked.

"Yes, that feels very nice," Dashy crooned.

"Good, s'real good t'hear," Foxy nodded. She flipped up the eyepatch and eased her fingers out of the twink, leaving his hole a little gaped and very lubricated. She licked her golden fang thoughtfully and held Dashy's ass cheek aside. In the same moment, she smeared the her excess lube into his fur. "I said it be'fer, lass, but this is a mighty cute fuckhole ye got." She grinned as she rubbed the backside of her hook against his pucker and along his taint.

Dashy shuddered from the feeling of the cold steel. Of course, Foxy was made of quite a lot of steel and other inorganic things, but the hook was bare, polished metal.

Feeling smug in advance of her victory over Dashy's ass, Foxy stepped off the bed again and laced up the pegging leg. The harness fit taut to her body, clasping around her hips, between her legs and over her ass cheeks in a manner like a jockstrap. Dashy watched with mounting terror as she slathered her fake rubber meat in what was left of the generous bottle of lube. Before she was through, the dildo dripped. Its surface gleamed.

Tossing the emptied bottle aside, Foxy demanded, "Bend over fer me, tart. Spread'jer cheeks'n bite the sheets!"

Abject terror notwithstanding, Dashy obeyed. He slid his dislodged panties down around his knees and parted his cheeks with shaky palms. Baring his wet anus to the cool air of Foxy's den made him shiver; he did so again when when Foxy pressed the flared head of the pegging leg against him. "I-I'm not so sure about this," he gasped. He made to pull away but Foxy whacked his behind broadside with her hook.

"'Old still, wench!" And Dashy did as commanded, but not without a whine. "Lemme get it in... Yer gonna take it just fine," she snickered as she muscled the horsecock forward. She kept its floppy length braced with her paw, and in holding it straight, it was made stiff enough to penetrate Dashy.

His anus opened with lumbering slowness even as the flexible silicone toy compressed against the grip of his anal muscles. As the fist-sized flare of the dildo passed his ring, however, it was given room to flare out again, and the sensation was not unlike a knot. Dashy was used to knots, but only when they succeeded a cock. Having a penis inside of him which started with such a bulk was agonizing but the pressure it put on his tender walls made his whorish crossdressing side grunt and moan.

Foxy worked the toy in with a considerate rhythm. In would go a few inches, and then she wiggled it back and forced a few more in. It was slow going, and Dashy had a mental image of a garden hose being forced open to permit a baseball. The stretch which the horsecock imposed upon his poor rectal walls was nothing short of incredible and the pain matched it. In some way he knew that he could make it all stop if he simply commanded the vixen - a user-obeying machine - to let up, but he knew that he would have been lying if he said that he didn't want what was happening.

"'Ow ye doin' down there, me liddle lady of the evenin'?" Foxy cackled. It was then that the pegging leg's big, fake balls pushed flush to Dashy's small scrotum. In celebration of the full entry, she leaned over him and nibbled one of his big, pert ears, causing it to flick.

"I'm, ah," Dashy whined, "I'm okay."

"See, knew it'd fit in yer boycunt there," she snerked. Slowly but with the grim determination of a machine built to fuck, Foxy pulled the pegging leg back. Dashy sighed in relief as the great flare of the thing went with the grain of his muscles, but of course the vixen started to drill it back in. A soft, telling moan escaped him. Foxy smiled fondly, though this was a face she dared not let Dashy see.

"Arr, the peggin' leg makes short work of deflowerin'," she effused. "Yer gonna be sittin' on pillows fer weeks, wench!"

"I can believe it," Dashy whined. "Oof..."

The vixen worked it a little bit faster, but never any harder. She equated the pegging leg to a sledgehammer: the weight of the tool did most of the work. All it needed was a swing and gravity did the rest. Much the same with that big, rubbery horse phallus, Foxy needed not nail the scientist for everything he was worth. Merely dragging that flare out and packing it in like a pipe cleaner wore the boy out amply.

"Talk t'me," she growled. Feeling lurid and loving in the same instant, she bit his nape and tugged a few strands of fur loose. Dashy gasped.

"Ooh, whuh-what do you want me to say?" asked Dashy, speaking with cute, easy compliance in his voice. "I could talk about anything for hours and hours, I could talk to you about the theories I've been working on proving, or maybe how I'd hoped to study--," he cutely chattered when Foxy bit his ear and made him squeak.

"Tell me what ye want, tart," Foxy seductively said. Her pace with the strap-on quickened but the strength behind the grinds remained unchanged. Only a machine could maintain such a perfect rhythm. "What do ya' want from me, eh? Tell ol' Foxy..."

Dashy bit his lip and nuzzled into the soft bedspread. Absently, his legs drifted further apart and his toes curled. "I couldn't say," he huffed. "But I really liked, well," he murmured, too polite to say it.

Foxy grinned big and wide. She immersed the toy in Dashy completely and pushed her full tits down on his shoulder blades. "Y'better tell me, lassie, or I'll make ye walk the plank!"

Though morbidly curious as to how Foxy might punish him, Dashy relented when he felt the vixen's weight on him. "I really want your behind," he admitted. "Being underneath it was wonderful, I'd love to... You know, to finish in it!" he admitted, almost shrieking.

"Arr-har!" Foxy triumphantly laughed. "Ye got the makin's of a pirate! Ya' gotta want the booty!"

Foxy eased the pegging leg back and out of Dashy, making the exit as careful as the entry. She rubbed Dashy's backside with the back of her hook as she popped the flare of the toy out. The fox gasped and whined when it so dramatically exited him, and his pucker was no longer that. If Foxy had so desired, she could have fit her fist up inside of him without much effort. Luckily for Dashy, she had no such thing in mind.

After shedding the pegging leg and setting it aside for the cleaners, Foxy rolled Dashy over and straddled him again. But where she had formerly parked her delicious hind-end on his face, she instead pressed it to his swollen penis. Wearing a big grin and peering at her wench with both eyes, Foxy asked, her tone a lewd rumble, "How bad ye wantin' the booty, me girl?"

"Re-e-e-al bad?" Dashy chanced, smiling awkwardly at Foxy. His cheeks were practically glowing.

Fortunately for Dashy, Foxy laughed. "A'right, a'right, I guess you kin have it," she winked. She precluded any further winks when she flipped her eyepatch down again. "Now, lessee here," she murmured as she took hold of Dashy's erection. With some feigned effort intended to work the boy up, Foxy ground her ass down against his meat and once notched its tip into her pucker before letting it slip away. She waited until he whined and huffed to actually impale herself, and she did so with a moan which was not too exaggerated.

"Yerrr, s're-e-eal nice," Foxy huffed as she slid down to the knot. "Nice bit 'o bulk to it," she complimented. In the short respite before she started to bounce, she licked her lips and asked him, "'Ow y'likin' the booty so far?"

"Oh, it's amazing," Dashy gushed, smiling widely and dreamily. He stroked the vixen's plush thighs, but his eyes were on her breasts and their pierced nipples.

It was Foxy's job to be perceptive to her clients' needs. She reached for Dashy's paw with her own, foregoing the hook for this task, and set it upon a breast. "Funny thing about the titties," she grinned, "they tend to fill up yer paws real good, yer? Y'know that them idle paws be the devil's instruments!"

"Oh, yes," Dashy blurted in agreement. He awkwardly fondled Foxy's full breasts and played with the rings. "You're very, very... Ah, pretty," Dashy said.

"Nice thing t'say, lass," Foxy grinned. Without fanfare, she began her slow ride on the twink fox's blue cock. It was trivial for any of the animatronics to move as they pleased, but Foxy in particular looked like she could really ride a lap with her stout legs and thick ass. She lay her paw and hook over Dashy's groping paws and compelled him to squeeze down harder. Compounding her insistence, she outright said, "Squeeze 'em like they're fuckin' fruit, y'little trollop - ye ain't gonna break me! I like me fuckin' rough!" And solely to demonstrate, she slammed her fat ass down and popped Dashy's knot inside. Both foxes gasped and arched their spines, but Foxy pulled off of it quickly and shuddered at the sensation.

"Ooh, oh, take my knot again!" Dashy blissfully moaned.

"It ain't quite time fer tyin' knots yet," Foxy grinned, but she ground down on Dashy's aching knot to tease and please, accomplishing both magnificently. Dashy squirted no shortage of pre into her cool, synthetic ass and the lifelike muscles therein massaged and tugged Dashy's coming and going member with delightful efficiency. As this lay went on and on, she ever swayed her tail all around, fanning about that musk which had gotten the scientist so far down the rabbit hole in the first place.

The vixen nudged his paws off of her breasts and draped herself over him, and then they shared a kiss. Dashy lovingly wrapped his arms around her neck and she in turn lapped deeply into his maw, yet after the places her tongue had been, even such a sordid makeout session was tame. Dashy seemed to like the enthusiasm anyway; he moaned for Foxy and caressed her back.

Foxy pushed down against Dashy's knot more often, but never hard enough to pop it in. She was in fact hoping to goad the twink to do something about it himself, and he once ground up into her, but not enough for the tie. This was a shame, Foxy thought, but she didn't expect much else from such a timid client.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, Foxy snarled, "Ye gonna blow fer me, wench?"

"Yes, oh god, yes," Dashy bleated. "I'm so close...!!"

"Yer, ya' really are, I kin feel it," she hissed. She straightened up and braced her paw on his shoulder, and that was when the gloves came off. Grimacing in concentration and narrowing her single, glowing eye, Foxy rode upon Dashy as harshly as she could without quite knotting herself. It was easy to smash her ass down on his loins with so much weight at her disposal. Oftentimes her descents winded the boy but he seemed only to savor the burden of being beneath her. He moaned and whined all but constantly and he gamely took hold of her tits.

Finally Foxy saw Dashy's eyes glaze over. She grinned in anticipation and felt his release a moment later. It was a modest orgasm in both volume and fanfare but Foxy always loved when the boys dumped their nuts inside of her. All that remained was a good, hard knotting, and she accomplished that almost as an afterthought when she mashed her perfect ass down on his crotch. Her ass cheeks were still jiggling when the twink gasped and squeezed down on her jugs hard enough to dent her flesh. She growled and grinned from ear to ear.

"That's a mighty fine grip fer a mighty fine wench," she praised. "What'd ya' think, lass?"

Dashy couldn't think of much of anything. He had forgotten how to speak and instead managed just a couple of dumb syllables. Foxy snickered and leaned down whereupon she gave him a smooch on the lips. "Don't ya' say a word - just be real close with ol' Foxy..."