FSE

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Lars sat back, his wooden chair creaking under the wide load of his ass. Legs crossed and shoes on the desk, he looked up at the ceiling and wondered what he get away with next as mayor. If he was being honest with himself, the idea of running an above-the-board operation wasn't such a bad one, but his status as a registered sex offender was well-earned, and he was pretty sure the raccoon in town had some mafia dealings going on.

It was just past dawn, and Lars was still a little drunk. He also had his morning wood, and it was his intent to do something about it (a private office was a terrible thing to waste) when the door opened. In stepped his assistant, Isabelle the Shih Tzu, with a sheaf of papers clutched to her chest and that insufferable morning-person liveliness in her eyes. "Good morning, mayor," she chirped.

The red panda mumbled his counter-greeting. He took his shoes off the desk and replaced them with his elbows. "Hi, Isabelle," he said, trying not to yawn. He nodded at the stack of papers. "What's that?"

"Just your first order of business, sir," the dog answered with a smile. "It's a petition to celebrate gay and trans rights in the village. They, um, got enough signatures to put a rainbow flag in the plaza."

Lars took the papers with a dubious smile. Looking at all the signatures, his buzzed eyes saw the disparate styles of handwriting as little more than indecipherable shapes. The print on the header said it had been organized and collected by a Mr. Desmond Lankett. "Well then," Lars mumbled, fumbling for his pen. Isabelle helpfully produced one from her pocket protector. "Let 'em have a flag if they want. Gay Bells spend the same as straight ones."

Isabelle watched him sign his executive order. She smiled lopsidedly. "I mean, I like to think that you'd sign it because it's the right thing to do, and not because... because of money..."

The panda looked at the dog, his smile still present, but now patronizing. "Well, of course I'm doing it because it's the right thing." As he slid the signed order across the desk, he asked her with sweetness in his tone, "Do you like your job?"

"Well, I--, of course! I get to make a difference, and improve the town. Well, soon-to-be town, I hope. It's only a village for now... but you know what I mean."

Lars stood up, stretching until his back and shoulders issued wet pops. His shirt pulled up a few inches as he curved himself and his burgeoning belly peeked from the gap. He was beginning to look like his old man. "I'm glad you like your job," he said at the tail-end of a yawn. "I like your job, too. You handle a lot of things under the hood. I appreciate that."

The Shih Tzu blushed and smiled. Her tail wagged. "Thank you, mayor."

"But there's one teensy little thing I want you to start doing. Don't panic. It's so easy."

"Ummm. Of course, mayor." She thumbed the edge of the executive order, dog-earing the parchment. "What's--?"

Lars' actions cut her off into sharp, stunned silence: he unzipped his fly. With the dog's rapt attention, he pushed down his slacks (he hated them and missed his sweat pants) and let her take in the sight of his morning hard-on throbbing under gunmetal-hued boxers. "Don't act surprised, hon. I know you've seen me looking. I know you've read my record, too. But I paid my debt to society - it's time you paid yours for this cushy job."

Isabelle toyed with her ears and once inspected the hem of her skirt - anything to keep her eyes off of the mayor's crotch. "M-mayor, this hardly seems like appropriate office conduct..."

The panda glanced at the clock. "Not quite eight AM. Mayor's office doesn't open 'til then, you know that." He chuckled. "So this technically isn't the office yet, huh? So come here."

Obeying and blushing, Isabelle put down the parchment (realizing sheepishly that she had mangled its corner) and stepped around the desk. Her heels clicked coldly on the wooden floor, the sound dull in the small office. "What, ummm--. What would you have me do, mayor, sir?"

Lars bit his lip, grinning at the corners of his mouth. He pushed down his boxers and let his fat, black prick hang and breathe. The foreskin was only just too short to pucker and cover the gleaming head. "Not a whole lot," he said with the soothing cadence of a rapist who was used to talking his way into his victims' pants. "Just pull your skirt up, push your panties down. Paws on the desk." He stroked his cock with a firm grip; pre beaded on its tip and fell to the floor.

When the dog only stayed still, Lars began to narrow his eyes. "Come on, Isabelle," he said with a slight edge. "You want to keep your job, don't you?"

"I do, mayor. I--, um. I really do." She sighed and chewed on her lower lip, turning the black jowl nearly white for a moment. She looked at Lars' member with equal parts longing and fear as she reached under her pretty green skirt, pulling it up past her knees.

Down went her simple pink panties. When she started to lift her foot out of them, Lars touched her shoulder and purred: "Leave them. They won't be down there long."

Though whining softly, Isabelle capitulated to the ruggedly handsome mayor. With paws on the desk and her tail held high, she looked over her shoulder timidly. Her blush grew red-hot as Lars raised her skirt. "It's been a while... a really long while. I might be tight. I hope that's okay, mayor."

Lars laid hungry eyes on Isabelle's muff. To the uninitiated eye, the sight of a thick, black canine vulva protruding from a lovely girl's loins was a vulgar sight. Lars understood the perfection of such anatomy, and he pressed the tip of his color-matched cock into the split of her cuntlips. "Oh, I think I can make that work. Just ho-o-old on tight to that desk."

The dog was a liar. She wasn't tight at all, and the problem didn't lie with Lars, whose penis was of very generous proportions. He kept to himself the fact that he now knew she was the village bicycle; it would make for decent leverage later on when she balked over anal. "Mm-mmm," he cooed, sinking in with pleasure just the same. He rubbed her hips and up her flanks, cupping her small but present boobs in rough paws. "Good girl. So good," Lars sighed, his hips hitting her bottom.

Loose or no, Isabelle still winced at the panda's size. She looked miserably at the desk below her, catching sight of the mayor's to-do list for the day. It appalled her: Morning; plow secretary. Midmorning; talk secretary into rimjob. Noon; golf and business talk with Nook. She didn't read any further.

Whether he knew she'd read his to-do list or not, Lars jovially asked as he slid out and back in again, "Ever eat ass before, hon?"

"Um, no. No way, that's kinda gross actually." She had a tight, guarded tone. "Who would do that?"

"A girl who wants to keep her job would do it." The panda squeezed her breasts, making her gasp but not in pain. Smirking big and toothy, Lars smashed his hips into her rear. Her cunt gulped down his fat cock and craved so much more if its throbbing grip was anything to go by. "It's not so bad. Bet you'd like it. I was told in prison that I have a very tasty asshole."

Isabelle whined. "Ah, I might have to pass. I mean, it's just--, you know..."

Lars leaned over her and nosed one of her ears. He moved his hips slowly, not so much fucking her as just grinding while bottomed out. "It's fine," he purred. "I'll just replace you with that French wolf, the pink one. She eats ass like it's goin' out of style."

Fighting back tears, Isabelle groaned. "I guess I can try it, mayor. Sir. Please don't fire me. Please?"

Domination, whether mental or physical, made Lars a happy panda. He leaned heavily on Isabelle, pushing on her shoulders until her chest crashed into the desk. She huffed, closing her eyes tightly, successfully stopping the tears from coming. "Mmm, that's it. I like a go-getter attitude," he said with a sigh. Again and again he pushed his hips against her delicate, but round behind. His fur against hers made no appreciable sound, but her muff was slick and noisy as he pumped it with his greasy black cock. Wet sucks and slurps cut through the dull air of the office.

"Mmm, gawd," Lars puffed. "When we're done here, I'm gonna give you some Bells. You need to go find me a little fridge for my office. And lots of beer."

The Shih Tzu was offended, but infamously fearful of confrontation. "Y-yes, mayor. Okay..."

Lars nosed into her hair, breathing disgustingly across her scalp. His buzz was wearing thin but the pleasure was mounting, soon to peak. His sweaty nuts were tight and his motions, although still largely fast and loose, began to stiffen. "We can, ah, keep some drinks in there for you too... even though I've got plenty for you to drink." He laughed and smooched the back of her neck. In spite of the revulsion she felt, Isabelle shivered. "I love this little muff of yours. Doggy style is my favorite kind of cunt anymore, I ever tell you that?"

"No, mayor, you--, no, you didn't."

He sniggered. "Cat's outta the bag now, I guess. Mmm, see, this is something you really have going for you," said the panda, his voice dripping sleaze. A deep shudder wracked his body and he shoved his hips flush to Isabelle, making her pliant muff deform without harm. "Ooh, fuck me. I hope you're on the pill or something."

Isabelle's soft ears drooped and her wet eyes opened wide. "I'm--, I'm not on--! Mayor!!"

It was too late. Lars flopped against her and let himself go, blasting his baby gravy far into the secretary's big black box. As it slopped into her, she whimpered; it was useless to fight then and she knew it, so she didn't. To her credit, neither did she cry more than she already had.

"Mmm... mmm-mmm, that was something else." Lars kissed one of her ears, appreciating its velvet softness. "Better get some morning-after pills. Redd sells shit like that, I think. If you think you're gonna tie me down with a kid, you got a date with a staircase, my little honeypot."

"I understand, mayor," Isabelle numbly said. "Um... um, are you done now, sir? I need to go and--, and do something."

Go cry in the bathroom, I'm sure, Lars tartly thought. He slipped his spent shaft out of the dog slowly, finding it easy to savor the humid warmth of her cunt with his penis tingling in afterglow. He sat back in his creaky chair bare-assed and enjoyed the view of her creamed snatch right up until she put her skirt down. "Go do whatever you need, hot stuff. Be back by ten, we got more business to attend to then."

"All right, mayor." The lack of emotion in her voice was nothing special to Lars; women tended to clam up like that after a little less-than-consensual loving.

"Thank you, Isabelle," Lars murmured, yawning. "Hold my calls. I'm feeling a little sleepy."