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"A story for anyone who ever found comfort in a welcoming hole."

The following tale of a misguided bun bun, stumbling into the "wrong" restroom, was made possible by a grant from the FA: Myrilla foundation.

Disclaimer: This story supposes the existence of an "other" gender, comprised of hermaphordites, futanari, and other things that go bump and grind in the night. They are intended to serve as a delightfully erotic fantasy, and are not meant to be a reflection on the transgender or the intersex population. When dealing with a living, breathing person, keep it in your pants, and be respectful. You might just make a new friend.

Also, it is worth noting Myrilla and Piho are professional sexer-uppers of bun buns. Do not attempt this at home, and if you do, please be mindful of your partner's comfort, and use sensible protection.

Please enjoy...

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In a Hole in the Wall by Bishiebunny

In a local community college, there walked a rabbit. Not a katana-wielding, ronin rabbit, dedicated to his musha shugyo. Nor a wise-cracking carrot cruncher, with a penchant for cross-dressing and outsmarting hunters. No, this was a Bishie Bunny rabbit, and that means pretty boy. It also meant that the snow-white, round-bottomed beauty would have fit a dress better than his grey cousin.

Not that he ever considered such a thing; any alternative urges had long since been beaten out of his plump rear by a wary patriarch.

It was also important not to confuse this Bishie Bunny with another bunny of the same name. That Bishie Bunny enjoyed the satiny embrace of the sheer and the shimmering, and had never endured a father's disapproval. Said bunny was the mystical creation of a frustrated enchantress, with a nasty habit of breaking her toys. She had stitched her new pet out of ethereal star stuff, looking to craft a plaything that could put itself back together.

This Bishie was a non-magical, completely natural lapine, who just so happened to look an awful lot like the immortal sex aide who shared his name. By some cosmic coincidence, they also shared the same floppy ears, the same wild, white coif of hair, the same irrepressibly swaying backside, and even the same golden-flecked, amber eyes, framed by long, feminine lashes. While some might think this peculiar redundancy was beyond rational happenstance, it is a well known fact that reality is often stressed for time, and sometimes resorts to copy/paste.

Unlike his mystical doppelganger, the mundane model had a real mother, and a real father, thought the latter was questionable, and not something he liked to talk about. Bishie could not quite get the hang of fathers. Fathers were disapproving, often angry, sometimes violent, and could hardly believe such a blasphemous creation had been the product of their righteous loins.

Mothers were better. A mother was encouraging, nurturing, did her best to shield one from a father's temper, and did not mind when her son blew his entire allowance on fantasy novels. She had been thrilled when he enrolled in a less-than prestigious junior college, hoping to get the core classes out of the way, so he might eventually transfer into a liberal arts program.

His father had grunted, muttered something about getting a real degree, while nosily rustling the morning paper on his way to the Sunday comics. In his father's mind, a real degree entailed something theology oriented, provided it was the right theology. The elder rabbit was not about to abandon his plans to cajole his son into a career in the ministry, as ill-suited as his offspring seemed.

That was why the flop-eared bunny found himself eying the classified section of the school paper, looking for a hole in the wall that he could hide in, and possibly a roommate to split the rent. His mother had wasted too much of her life trying to protect her boy, and her boy was sick of her husband's ire. Bishie juggled the amateur periodical with his "Introduction to Weird Science" textbook, and a well-worn, dog-eared copy of "The Two Towers," ready to make a new start.

Had he settled on one, or possibly two out of the three, he might not have wandered into the wrong restroom.

Shay's Valley Community Tech prided itself on its open door policy, accepting all creeds, species, and credit ratings. So did most school of late, particularly with certain populations on the rise, in both numbers and influence. Because of this recent trend, there were two wrong restrooms into which a distracted male might stumble: the woman's restroom, and the "other" restroom.

Had Bishie wandered into the woman's restroom, he would have hardly been noticed. Given his loose-hanging, midnight blue shirt that flowed about his feminine hips, and the inexplicably short-shorts he had chosen because August refused to give September an inch, the uncommonly pretty bunny would have been thought a somewhat boyish girl. He would have simply headed to the sink, splashed some cold water on his face, and then blushed when a canine woman came up from behind, commenting on how unfair it was that some girls seemed to have all the ass.

Assuming the bunny had kept his wits about him, he would have giggled, expressed faked disappointment in his chest size, while complementing the woman on hers, and then walked out, hoping to never bump into her again. More likely, he would have squealed, back-peddled his way toward the door, have it slam into the back of his head when a female panther stepped in, and fallen unconscious onto the floor. What would happen next largely depended on whether his life was destined to be a satirical farce, a cautionary tale, or a work of erotic fiction. The bunny did sort of sparkle, so assuming it happened to be a young adult, supernatural romance, he might have done very well for himself.

But that was not the wrong restroom that Bishie found himself in. The "other" restroom was a result of that aforementioned population's recent rise. Their swelling numbers were largely due to their swelling members, and their own open door policy when it came to suitable playmates. It was said they welcomed all comers, just so long as said comers did not mind being likewise cummed on, or in, or generally about. They could be just about any species, and possessed various configurations of the sexual hardware that tended to be associated with the two, more common genders. It was the restroom of the hermaphrodite, the futanari, the newtype, and the shemale; the last not to be confused with a derogatory term for the transgender. In fact, while any transgender was welcomed to visit, they tended to stick to the boy's or girl's bathroom they identified as. Both groups were quick to make the distinction, particularly given how often the world seemed to confuse the two. Bishie's father was the sort to be easily confused, though he had enough hate in his heart for both, and had done his best to instill the same into his wayward son.

It had not been entirely successful, as the bunny had little room in his heart for hate. Fear, on the other hand, he had learned from an early age, and transferring it from one abusive figure to a group of perceived perverts, was easily done. While he had never met any of these genital "aberrations," his father had long since convinced the young man that it would be the end of him. Had Bishie noticed the convoluted gender symbol, the somewhat confusing pictogram, or the warning sign someone had spray-painted on the door, he would have looked for his morning refresher elsewhere.

The first hint that the bunny had made a wrong turn came in the form of a pervasive, yet subtle, aromatic. It filled the air, like a recently opened drawer of women's things: a faint perfume, mixed with silks and satins. Bishie had fetched his mother's pantyhose when he was a child, and he could still remember that curious scent. He immediately associated it with femininity, a sense of something sensual, erotic. But under that lay something heavier, something equally familiar, yet never in this context. It was also a bit off, that strangeness that came from tasting the masculine scent of another. He had wandered into marked territory, marked by dozens of aroused Alphas, and the beta bunny felt himself immediately cowed.

There was also a sudden sense of being slightly off scale. Everything was larger, taller, wider, like the reverse of a grade school bathroom, the nightmare of every PTA member who could not manage to hold their Kool-aid. It was a matter of inches, making him feel less a bunny, more a mouse. The difference between the two was minimal, but when one was fighting for every centimeter, even a milometer counted. Having hoped to splash some cool, wake-up water in his face before really starting the day, seeing a line of not-quite chest-high sinks was awfully discouraging: disconcerting, in fact.

And then there was the largest, bluest, canine woman the bunny had ever seen.

She was large in all the ways one might hope a woman to be. Were she shorter, she might have simply been considered voluptuous, destined to achieve full MILF status once her lush hips and heavy chest had been given a chance to ripen. With her height, half-again the bewildered bunny's own, those curves spread sinfully about an towering frame. This was an Amazon who could have snu snu'd an entire crew of cosmic delivery boys. One further detail of note, which confirmed just how far off course the bunny had managed to stumble, was the suspicious semi-bulge which seemed to purr between her thighs, making a loose, denim skirt, bob and sway with perilous purpose.

Myrilla, the bloo beauty, was busy fussing with a dark, silken stocking which had a nasty habit of slipping down her long, shapely legs. Given the plump of her upper-thigh, one would think the damn things would stay attached, clinging for dear life. But no, the lady who had sold them had misjudged the width of the canine's hips, and everything that proceeded from them. It was just enough to overwhelm the elastic tops of her stockings, causing them to lose their grip and slide down in a shimmer. That was not even getting into the runs and rips that seemed to plague every pair she had ever bought. Some of them, she didn't mind, as they were just the result of her busy, rough-loving lifestyle. However, the hole just under her knee, where her powerful calf had burst the material at the seams? That was straight-up bullshit.

Myr was beginning to resent tipping so well. Next time she would know better, only a dozen or so inches past the tip of her cock, and only after testing her purchase. Those flighty girls who worked at the mall were always so unreliable when they were writhing on the floor, dribbling a gallon or so of freshly pumped cream. The gaping, gasping girl could have at least suggested a garter belt.

The squeak from the door, followed by an even louder squeak from the bunny, caused the azure-eyed mutt to turn her head, a wet smile spreading about her electric blue lips. "You're a bit late, hun." She eyed the newcomer, wondering why such a petite pretty would risk the unknown so soon. Normally, the girls, and the odd boy, who stepped through their door were a bit wider of hips, wilder of eyes, and tended to be giggling up a storm. They knew what they were getting into, or at least suspected what would be getting into them.

This one seemed a little too pure, untouched, and unsure. That was odd, especially with classes only just starting. Myrilla didn't catch the more virginal sort until mid-terms, when the poor dears stumbled about in a daze, looking for anything to take the edge off. Those late-comers often found that a foot or two of cock, sunk deep between quivering thighs, put a worrisome exam into perspective. Hard to stress over a test when one's capacity had been so thoroughly stress tested.

Then again, Myrilla somehow doubted this sweet succulent would have made it that far, certainly not with her purity intact. The bunny was far too pretty, too wide-eyed, and too plump bottomed. Someone terrible was just bound to snatch her up, and break her over the nearest, sturdy surface. "Everyone already had their fun, hosed down, pulled up their panties, and limped on to class. Still," grinned Myrilla, who often qualified as someone terrible in these circumstances, "I've got some time to kill."

Eyes growing wider by the syllable, the bunny took a step back, clutching his reading material tightly to his chest. This was it, the veritable lion's den. Daniel never had it so good.

"Did you bring any protection? Most of the other girls forgot. A couple had whipped out a few condoms, but those kid's balloons could have only fit their limp-dicked boyfriends." Myrilla leaned back, one hand sliding along her hardening cock, which had slithered sinfully out from under her skirt. Inch after midnight blue inch began to shuffle forward, causing the ladder of metallic hoops along the thickening shaft's underside, to extend their reach.

"You can guess how long those rubbers lasted." She gestured to a hardening white puddle that had spread out about the floor, where a few bits of burst prophylactic had been discarded. Oh god, the look on the bunny's face! Myr bit her bottom lip, and found herself hoping the bound-to-bred bun had been just as careless.

Not that it mattered. Truth was, nobody made condoms for cocks her size, because nobody her size wanted condoms. Women like herself had been a rarity once, forced to hide due to repressive sexual norms, and a general populace that could not quite handle the idea of an "other." It had taken an underground movement, headed by virile, somewhat morally flexible individuals, to bring their numbers to the point where real progress could be made. Given the potency of her peers, their natural resilience to disease, and good old fashioned, seductive charms, what had been an extreme minority was now leveling the playing field, even threatening to tip it right the hell over.

Institutions had been created to deal with the upswing in population, offering support to new families, and equitable adoption facilities for those not ready to have one. The party line was simple, "be fruitful, and multiple." Myrilla was not much for politics, but being fruitful just came naturally to the potent puppy. One could call her Myrilla Appleseed, for the bloo beauty was practically born to seed entire orchids.

"I-I'm a boy," the bunny squeaked, though wondered why he bothered. It was not like he had any intention on taking this hound of hell up on her offer. In fact, he should be going, right now, this very minute. If only she would stop looking at him that way, stop swaying in that sensual manner as she moved toward him. The faint flavors from before began to rise as the canine's heady aroma overtook the trembling, white bun.

She was also wearing nylons; how was that fair? The poor bun had developed an irresistible affection for the material, thanks to several religious church cougars, idly kicking about satin-clad legs, dangling shoes, and seductively arching sheer soles while paying homage to their faith. About half-past puberty was when he had stopped rubbing his mother's feet, which were invariably sore after a long day at work. She never took off her pantyhose before slipping her warm, soft heels into his lap, and it was just too hard to hide his peculiar perversions. Maybe his father was right about him.

Myrilla simply laughed: a rich, erotic sound that popped the bubble of the bunny's inner thoughts, "Well that makes things a lot easier, doesn't it?"

She could hardly believe the feminine boy. No make-up, no real attempt to appear as anything other than what he claimed to be, and yet she knew several young woman who might have killed for those long lashes, the fullness of his lips, or even just the softness of his features. Somehow, she just knew that once she got the boy on his hands and knees, she would find a heart-shaped bottom, worthy of murder. It would certainly be worthy of an attentive ravaging. "Though seriously hun, if you want people to know you're a boy, you could at least dress the part."

The bunny whimpered, chewing nervously along his bottom lip, cheeks burning with a merry blush. "T-this is just an old shirt, and some shorts. You know, cause it's hot." He practically whined, eyes cast down, not quite able to meet Myrilla's gaze for fear his knees might start to tremble. "T-there's nothing wrong with it." His dad had certainly thought there was, even called him a... "I'm not a freak, not like you."

The bloo beauty blinked, then slipped her arms under her chest, causing heavy curves to jiggle about her top, threatening to spill over. "Excuse me?"

Bishie looked up, something acidic rising to his tongue, something his father might have said, something barbed and full of venom. Then his eyes might hers, and the comment evaporated, leaving only a bitter ash which the bunny quickly swallowed. This was why he could never be the rabbit his father wanted him to be. Amber eyes studied the sky-blue orbs of the woman before him, doing her damnedest not to be affected by some stupid shit said by an ignorant ass. She wasn't even angry, he realized, almost more surprised than hurt, like someone having just heard a profanity uttered in church. This was her safe, sacred place, even if they had naughtier, stickier sacraments.

And now the bunny had just brought his viper into her Eden.

"I'm sorry," the bunny said, and he stepped forward, placing warm fingers along the woman's upper arm. "Really, th-that's not me either. I'm not like that, I'm just flustered and confused, and today is going to heck faster than I expected." He shook his head, "I-it looks like all of you have a lot of fun here, it really does. It's just not for me." He allowed himself a surprisingly bitter laugh, "My father would kill me."

Funny, Myrilla thought, he said that last bit as though he meant it literally. The way he trembled and looked away, maybe he did. Something that was part big sister, part rabid mama-bear, began to clench. Myr began to look at the bunny with different, protective, even possessive eyes. "You know you're an adult, right? You don't have to listen to what daddy says anymore." She reached up, laying her hand over the bunny's own. When he flinched, obviously primed to fear physical contact, she made up her mind. "Or anyone, really. You can be who you want to be."

The bunny bit back his initial response. Somehow, telling a woman like her that being who he wanted to be was easy for her to say, seemed even dumber than his other, thoughtless comment. Instead, he simply sighed, "Not until I find a new place to live." Bishie shook his head, which was feeling increasingly warm as Myr's touch turned into a light stroke. "If I don't do what daddy says, he has ways of making me regret it."

Myrilla took another step, her heat pressing with its own weight against the bunny's suddenly rigid form. Her knee, wrapped in satiny sheer, slipped up to lightly brush between the young man's weakening legs. Then the bloo mutt ran the back of her fingers along his snow-white cheek. "If you gotta listen to someone, listen to me." Her lips broke into a wide, playful grin, "I punish bad boys all the time, if they don't do what I say, but I think you'd like how I spank."

Eyes lidded, lips parted, the suddenly fever-riddled bun bun found himself on the verge of tumbling toward this woman's impossible gravity. At that moment, he hardly seemed to care about any of his father's warnings. Why should he? As big as the man loomed in his mind, this seductive siren was at least twice as large. More importantly, she was here, and what did it matter that sh-she was currently brushing his right hip with a cock about as thick as his forearm. M-maybe she knew something he didn't. Mayb-

"Oh god! I am so fucking horny right now," moaned a voice from a recently swung door, "Please tell me there are some leftovers, because girl, I could just about fuck a Clydesdale..." the newcomer paused, blinking as a blur of white ran from Myrilla's side, hit the bathroom stalls with an adorable little squeak, and then tumbled into the wrong one, trying to lock it behind him. "...senseless. Err, who was that? She looked cute."

Dammit! Myrilla had been so close. She could see the gears turning, his honeyed eyes melting, resolve washing away. Trust one of her friends to break the mood. "You mean the guy that just shut himself in the glory hole, Piho?" the bloo beauty sighed, "I haven't gotten his name yet."

The mood-breaking friend's name was actually Pihoqahiak, after her migrant grandfather, because her parents still considered themselves both Inuit, and romantics. The pleasantly plump polar bear went by Piho, because her peers were neither. That was okay. It was not like her family understood her obsession with hockey, or bending her fans over the bleachers. The latter of which, her peers understood just fine.

Chocolate-brown eyes blinked, shaking snow-white features, topped by raven-black hair. "Bullshit! That was a guy?" She placed her hands atop full hips which slid into well-toned, athletic legs, long enough that the woman towered over even Myrilla. "I swear, I think some of those hate blogs are right. There really are some weird hormones in the food."

Myrilla snorted, then cursed, finding her left stocking out of place again. Giving it a tug, she looked up to her larger friend, wearing that ever present hockey jersey, and what should have been lose-fitting shorts. "Class run late, Piho? Not like you to miss out on all the fun. And judging by that bulge, you could have used it."

The polar bear's shorts were tented tightly by an erection that was pure, pulsing frustration. For all its thickness, it was actually the only endowment of Piho's that was smaller than Myrilla's own. Relative to their respective heights, their curves were equally stacked, but because she stood a foot or so taller than the bloo mutt, those heavy breasts of hers took up even more real estate. What might have been an over-sized hockey jersey, even for Myr, clung to the woman's chest like a small, satin teddy, exposing her midriff.

"Oh I dunno, seems like there might be a bit of fun left," Piho smirked, indicating the small, occupied stall in the middle of the two larger, empty ones. Then the woman's face fell into a moan, "But it was awful, absolutely awful! Professor Bouchard, you know that fuzzy little wolverine with no neck, just all head? He held us late, going over the syllabus, line by line, like it was the key to the Da Vinci code or something. He kept looking my way, like he knew I was fidgeting for a reason, and I swear the little bastard winked at me. I think that guy's racist, or sexist, or something ist!"

"You think that maybe he's just pissed about you knocking up his son's fiancee last semester?" Myrilla replied, distracted by her stocking, and the shut stall. What was the bunny thinking in there? Could he hear them? Was he seriously hiding, or just pretending to be occupied until they left. Poor boy. There were rules for anyone caught in the glory hole, and a reason why the door only locked from the outside.

"Oh come on, that was hardly my fault," Piho grumped, "The girl wanted to start on a big family, right away. Thomas is a great guy and all, but you just know he'd be shooting duds for months until they finally caught. I explained all that to him."

Myrilla eyed her friend, "Were you balls deep in his bride-to-be at the time?"

Piho blushed, looking away, her voice a bit meeker, "H-he need to see how babies were made. You know, the right way, and all that." The bear sniffed, "Don't look at me like that, the poor guy was a virgin. Shari told me so."

"Let me guess, he didn't lose that virginity to Shari."

"W-well, I mean, it was only fair, you know? Couldn't just leave him out of the fun." Piho crumpled a bit, "You think he ran to his dad?"

"Nah. I think once you bounce a boy, they're as good as collared, hun," Myrilla smiled, patting her friend's shoulder. "I think his dad just figured it out, probably when his new granddaughter came out super-sized and a hankering for Coke-cola. It's not like Sheri could shut up about catching the eye of the league's star shooter."

Piho snerked. "Funny," sniffling a bit, the bear wrapped up her blue friend in a tight, near-smothering hug. The woman giggled when their cocks brushed together, enjoying the roughness of Myr's piercings. Still, that only served to remind her of just how frustrated she had become. "Alright, enough with the cheese cake, Rose. Are we going to bed this bunny or what?"

"Yeah, but look," Myrilla gestured her friend forward, dropping into a low whisper, "He's timid, and kind of messed up. Not his fault, but if we're going to break him in, I think we need to go Good Cock, Bad Cock. Only," the bloo dawg paused for a moment, chewing nervously on her electric blue bottom lip, "I want to be Good Cock this time."

Piho's jet-black lips spread in a gasp, "The great Myrilla, terror of the girl's locker room, and Cheerleader meets everywhere, wants to be Good Cock?" Brushing at her straight, low hanging bangs, she leaned in with a wide grin, "Somebody is cruUushing."

Myrilla caught her friend by the right nipple, which was plump enough to crease the bear's jersey, and squeezed. "Shut up, and just follow my lead, alright?"

The polar bear grunted, rubbing her sore nip, but could not quite keep the smile off her face as she wanted the bloo mutt approach their target. About time Myr found someone special, even if it was just a pet kinda special. She leaned against a sink that would have been tall for most, but barely brushed the underside of her round bottom, watching the show, and waiting for her cue.

***

Bishie had never been in a glory hole, but he did have access to the internet, despite his father's protests. It was a simple enough concept that even his limited exposure was enough to grasp the key points. He knew what they were used for, what was expected of its occupants, and had a reasonable idea of what one should look like. The latter bit of info was particularly pertinent because his hiding place looked exactly the way a glory hole should.

It was cramped, unlike the other stalls, which was important when one wanted to get the most contact out of the least amount of attendants. Someone had removed both toilet and paper, likely to give the occupant a bit of wiggle room, and to clear up any possible misconceptions of the area's purpose. There was a cushioned stool, in case it was required, but out of the way, as it often was not. The graffiti that dotted the walls was especially vile, being a collection of sinful acts and suggestions, detailed in the most profane way possible, often with accompanying visual aides. Some of those aides took the form of photos of previous occupants, apparently having a wonderful time, if looking a bit dazed from the experience. There was also a cold grate in the middle of the floor, intended to catch whatever spilled fluid was not caught by the warm body kneeling above it.

It all amounted to the same thing. This was not a stall for tending to one's personal relief. This was a stall where one tended to the relief of the public.

Finally, there were the holes, one left and one right, where glory was sought. The edges had been cushioned with electrical tape, several times over, until they were ringed in a black, rubbery padding. Bishie figured it probably felt better, and besides, this would be a terrible way to contract tetanus. Better to stretch the jaws of the one within, than to lock the jaws of those without. Worst of all, at least as far as the bunny was concerned, the holes were far larger openings than they had any right to be. What sort of cocks would require that much space to work?

Bishie knew the answer to that, having already seen one example. H-heck, that dark blue beast had only seemed to be at about half mast.

The bunny slid against the door behind him, making a flimsy barricade of self, since there was no lock on the inside. He let his books and papers tumble to the floor, and considered joining them. How could he have been so stupid? He had picked the stall because it was the only place that seemed to fit his petite, feminine frame, and now he knew why. Of course he fit; this was where people like him ended up. Isn't that what his father had always said?

No, he wasn't going to listen to that voice, not here at least, not now.

There were sweeter voices to consider, voices that slipped from wet lips, dancing under azure eyes that did not look at him like he was some sort of misshapen rubbish. No contempt, no revulsion, just a sweet melt that he might have fallen into, if only his heart could stop beating so damn fast. Myrilla had wanted him, Bishie was sure of it, and while he might just be one of dozens, even hundreds the blue-furred doggie desired, it was such a refreshing change, he almost felt it worth the risk. Someday, he might just take her up on her offer, assuming she was still in the market for bun bun.

Someday, but not today, of course, oh no, not by any means. Today he was going to cringe behind this sturdy, stall door, wait until everyone outside had bored of paying hide-in-go-fuck-yourself, and then head off to class when the coast was clear. That was his plan, and he was excited to be a part of it.

***

"Bunny?" Myrilla's voice broke in through the lapine's daydream, short circuiting a dozen synapses at once. "Um, you have a bad habit of ending up in places you really shouldn't be. I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose."

"Of course he did, Myr," Piho called out, wearing a wicked grin as her hands slipped shorts down, and off, her long legs. "Nobody fucks up that bad twice, unless they're looking to get fucked."

The blue pup stuck a long tongue out at her bare-bear-bottomed partner, who made a face in response, before turning her attention back to the door, and the bunny behind it. "Thing is, we kinda have a rule about the Hole. Like, I'm supposed to lock the door now, and not let you out until we're all through."

"In the Hole, part of the Hole," The polar bear laughed, sauntering over, bottomless, the edge of her jersey just barely able to keep her mountainous breast at bay. "Though I don't mind bending the rules, as long as I get to bend that pretty little bunny-butt over."

There was a muffled squeak which came from the door, which was so sweet, Myrilla's fully aroused shaft thudded heavily against it. She could hear the scramble of a bunny backing up against the opposite wall, in response to her cock's knock, thinking she meant to burst in. Down girl, she thought, you'll get your chance, assuming we don't mess this up. More importantly, she wanted her chance without messing him up. Somehow, that had become awfully important to her. "Don't worry Bishie, Piho isn't going to do anything you don't want."

"I'll bet he wants more than he's willing to admi-" Piho cut off with when Myrilla held up a warning finger. The bear tilted her head, looking curiously at her friend.

"Here's the thing, bunny," Myrilla sighed, "Piho and I are gonna move away from the door. My friend is going to stick her cock into the right hole, and you are... going to do what you want to do, whatever that is. You want to run out, hit up your next class, pretend none of this ever happened? That's cool. You want to get a good eyeful of a really big cock, freak out, and then jet? Sure, that works."

Piho moved to the right side, biting back the teasing taunt that came to mind. Myrilla was acting weird, and this wasn't really how the game was played. Still, she could just make out the heated breath of their trapped playmate, and it put the oddest, warmest blush on the bear's cheeks. Maybe they were playing a new game, and so far, it was kinda fun.

"But if you want to try something new, something I think you might like, you'll never taste a cock attached to a sweeter girl," Myrilla grinned, enjoying the deepening blush on her friend's cheeks; so unlike her, so unlike the both of them. "She's had a rough morning, and I think you could help take the edge off. Nobody is going to see you, nobody is going to judge you, and nobody is going to force you; not yet at any rate." The bloo beauty began to stroll, running her fingernails along the stall door, then the wall, so the bunny could track her movement. "One time deal as far as that goes, I'm afraid. If you stick around, I can't make any promises after that."

"S-so do I stick my dick in now, or what?" Piho called out from the other stall, feeling uncharacteristically warm. This was wandering into a more romantic territory than she was used to. To be honest, it made the bear a little uncomfortable, but in a good way. For once, she had no idea what to expect, and there was a tingle which followed, a sensation that she was often denied with her more common conquests.

"Yeah, do that. Bunny, I'm not your dadd-" Myrilla broke off when Piho giggle-snorted. This was why romantic lines were always so damn hard to pull off, especially when around old friends, "...look, go if you're gonna, or else stick around and see where it all leads, okay?" The blue-furred mutt leaned against her side of the wall, wondering when this shit got so damn complicated. It was the bunny, it had to be. He was doing something to her, and the only way to deal with that was by doing something to him.

Preferably, she would be doing a lot of somethings to him, on a soon-to-be frequent basis.

***

Bishie tried to process the big, black cock, with the pinkish head, that began to crowd the cramped stall. Suddenly, those holes did not seem especially large. They were hardly up to the task required of them. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, not only dwarfing his own, shamefully aroused member, but every porn the bunny had ever caught glimpses of. It was even bigger than Myrilla's had been, but something told him that wasn't a fair comparison. The blue dog's cock had not been fully erect. Could it really get bigger than this? At any rate, there was more than enough cock for a dozen bunnies, and being the only one in the room, he considered heading out the door, never to look back.

But then the thick shaft pulsed, the long slit at its tip parting to let dribble a milky drip that seemed to sizzle as it hit the floor. The room began to fill, not only with Piho's cock, but the musk of it. That underlying scent, of an alpha in full display, caused the bunny's knees to buckle. It filled his head with confused fantasy, filled his lungs with an overwhelming humidity. No wonder his father was so terrified of the darn things. No wonder a serpent had lead the first furs to sin. His soft lips parted, his tongue sliding along their plump, bottom edge. Bishie came to a sudden, sinful understanding of self, but it was not the self he had ever been allowed to be, and it warred old assumptions.

"I- I don't know what to do," Bishie sighed, hands wrapping around his shoulders, trembling to his core.

"Well, if it was me, I'd take my clothes off. Unless you want them ruined, that is" came Myr's welcome voice, the only voice that made any sense at that moment.

The bunny complied, pulling his loose shirt over his head, then unbuttoning those too-tight, short shorts. He let them fall off his plump rump, along with the tighty whites that had settled underneath. This was okay, wasn't it? Like Myrilla had said, nobody was going to see him. This was a different world, a humid world, a world heated by a shaft waiting for his touch. This was a world without fathers, without mothers even. There was just him, and whatever he wanted, just so long as what he wanted was the thickness that pulsed teasingly, a dozen inches from his face.

"Touch it," Myrilla cooed, "It's not going to bite. But you could, if it got frisky. It really is more afraid of you than you are of it."

"Do not give him any bad ideas, Myr!" Piho's voice grunted from the other end, trembling a bit with rising frustration, "b-but yeah, bunny? Touch me. Please?"

Whatever resistance was left to the bun, broke at the plead in the bear's voice. All the fear that had built up, the worry that this woman was going to somehow take him through the wall, melted away. She really did want it, was yearning, and at that moment, there was only one person who could give her what she wanted, needed. Strangely enough, she was at his mercy. Lucky for her, he had an ample supply, driven by a sudden urge to scratch undiscovered itches.

Tentative fingers slid out, rolling along flesh that was even warmer than he had expected. It pulsed at his touch, rising and falling in a swell, dribbling another plop of freshly spilled seed. Something even warmer lit the bunny's interior, a strange sensation, filled as much by shame as arousal. He knew, deep down, that he shouldn't be doing this, or so his nurture told him. However, something else, something nature-oriented, saw nothing wrong with the act, pushing him forward. What had been a touch became a grip, what was a grip, became a sliding, rocking grope.

"Oh god, his hands are so soft." Piho moaned, eyes shut, hips pressing forward. "Y-you're sure he's not a she?"

Somehow, her confusion made him smile, cheeks bursting into an invisible pink. That's right, they couldn't see him, could they? He could be a she in here. He could be anybody in here. Emboldened by the thought, the bunny slipped around and pressed a chaste, lover's kiss along the side, and then another, up a little higher, where foreskin has pulled away, exposing yet more pink. It was hot to his lips, and tasted somewhat bland, but by no means unpleasant. He gave another, trailing up the underside now, letting his tongue slip forward to get a better gauge of this new treat.

"Kis-"

"S-he already is, Myr," Piho grunted, "Oh and licking too. Nnf," At her height, she could peek, if she really wanted. She almost did, extending on tip toes to get a better look at her unseen lover. But like the bunny, she enjoyed the fact that it could be anyone, even everyone. Somehow she doubted most of their lips would be this sweet. Good lord, "C-can we keep him?"

"Mine," barked Myrilla, then blinked. Where had that come from? "But you know me, I'll share."

The bunny squirmed at that sudden expression of possession, something internal melting, puddling about his insides. A smile lit his lips, and the bun who could be anyone, here in this sinful, anonymous hole, decided to try being someone who might suck a cock or two. Just the tip, of course. That was about as dirty as a bunny could go, but it was an awful lot dirtier than he might have guessed this morning.

First came the taste, running his tongue along the loose, cum sputtering slit. It was a dull, salty liquid that puddled, sticky and warm, a savory sort of cream that made his own shaft swell as he allowed it to tumble down his throat. This cock's release was not all that different, in flavor or texture, from his own. There was just more of it, and it seemed thicker, the scent every so slightly off, yet undeniably appealing. The pink shaft seemed to lurch forward suddenly, smearing some of the excess along his cheek, almost bruising it in the process.

"More! Oh g-god, put it in your mouth, please?" Piho's pleading was becoming more intense, the wall between them starting to quiver as her weight pressed insistently upon it. "You can't just leave a- a girl like this, can you?"

Could he? More importantly, could he even get that much into his mouth? Maybe, if he closed his eyes, imagined the plump, pink head as some sort of overly-stuffed plum, full of a rich, musky juice. One hand sliding around the beckoning member, steadying its bob, the bunny decided to at least give it a try. When in Rome, and all that. Or did this qualify as Sodom?

Shutting his eyes, parting his lips as far as they would go, he tried to slip this unfamiliar treat between them. He laid his tongue flat along the underside of Piho's cock, guiding it forward with his hands, while he balanced on his knees. It was difficult to do, with her shaft nearly extending half-way into those cramped quarters. If only it would bend a bit more, curve downward so he could get a better handle on the beast. But hard as it was, it kept bobbing up, defying both bunny, and gravity in a swollen throb. He felt his jaw cramp, not used to being open this wide for this long. Then glistening glans deformed as they slowly slithered between his lips, then suddenly spread, having gained entrance, filling his cheeks.

He did it! It was inside! A great, pulsing, hot morsel that spattered wetly against the back of his throat. He would have smiled, had his mouth been able to make any shape other than an elongated O. His cheeks burned, both from flush, and from the ripe, near-apple sized fruit, painting the inside of his mouth with salty juice. Was it getting bigger? It still had room to swell? S-she must really enjoy this. M-maybe this was something he was good at, after all.

Maybe...and then he opened his eyes, and got a good, hard look at what he was doing, and just what was causing his jawbone to creak. The bunny found himself in a sudden panic, first over the logistics, and then the moral implications. W-what in heck was he doing? His body arched in a shameful cringe, old notions of self recoiling from the act, even as new ones rallied in support. N-no, he had to pull back, he obviously wasn't ready. If hardness of his cock, and the warmth in his belly, was any indication, he would eventually be, but not now, not here.

Of course, with Piho pressed hard enough against the stall that it was starting to buckle, he couldn't simply yank the bulbous head free. Putting a hand up against the wall, next to her shaft, the bunny carefully stood as best he could, doubling over in the process. By the time he found his feet, he was bent at a near perfect ninety degree angle, his lush bottom squishing up against the opposite wall. Funny, he thought, if he was going to try and deep throat this monster, this is exactly how he migh- !

"Sorry hun," Myrilla groaned, her even larger cock-head slapping hungrily at the bunny's virgin rosebud, slamming him forward. "Couldn't mMmf, resist."

Bishie's hand slipped, his eyes shut in response to the sudden, erotic burn lighting up his bottom. He might have tumbled over, face-down and ass up, had Piho's cock not been there to catch his fall. Instead, it tunneled forward, and what had been little more than a cramp in the bunny's jaw, became a brutal pulse down a stretched throat. She was lodged now, and judging by the way she reared back, then plowed ahead, she had no intention of becoming dislodged, not until she was satisfied.

Fingers reaching up to scratch along the metal door, where countless nails had scratched before, the bunny tried his damnedest not to choke on the shaft that was happily remaking his neck in her own image.

Behind wasn't much better, as Myrilla had apparently redoubled her efforts, pressing hard with a cock tipped by a near fist-sized, electric blue mushroom. It sunk slowly, but inevitably, into a pink tightness that was simply not strong enough to resist. There was a pop, more felt than heard, and a sensation of wetness that was likely a few ounces of precum being pumped into his aching hole. She was inside of him, her cap making itself at home, sealing herself within, claiming her bunny as thoroughly as one could be claimed.

"You know nNnmf, we can't both thrust," Myrilla groaned, her fingers appearing over the lip of the glory hole, apparently needing the leverage to steady herself. "I don't want to break the boy, n-not really." Maybe, but even as she spoke, she pulled back with her hips, readying for another go. Only, with her cock wedged, his inner muscles wrapped tightly around the intruder, he found himself yanked off his feet, his bottom slapping hard against the blue mutt's wall.

"F-fine, you thrust, mMm we'll just enjoy the ride." Piho grunted, only the bulbous tip of her cock still sunk between the bunny's lips. Swollen as it was, dazed as he was, there was no spitting it out, no removing the thick, supple flesh from where it sat, fat and happy, throbbing along his tongue. Her hands also appeared over the lip, though she was not gripping so much as resting her upper arms, rocking her hips slightly. Apparently that didn't count as thrusting, though it fed an inch or so, threatening to pierce the bun's throat once more.

There was hardly any need. Myrilla slammed forward, hitting her side of the stall hard enough for the metal to groan. A few more inches of her shaft disappeared within the bun's struggling bottom, now a bit slicker with the canine's precum, the natural lubrication within, and the murk of his gathering sweat. It was hard to tell just how deep she really was, but every plunge buried another metallic hoop deep inside. Every retreat seemed to pull even more. The bunny realized that if he really had to guess how much blue dick was pummeling his bowels, all he had to do was count the rings.

Bishie didn't dare, for fear he might lose count.

The bunny's internal muscles begin to spasm, to try and push the intruder away, only succeeding in giving her cock the warm, erotic grip it required to swell and pulse. A few more hoops in, a few more being pulled out, and his body began to relent, to submit to her shaft. It shaped itself into a tight stretch around the insistent plunge. "So... damn... tight, nMnf, but fuck me if his ass isn't trying to swallow my cock, whole."

"I- I'll have to try that out," Piho moaned, "sometime."

With Myrilla pressing the bunny forward by the dozen or so inches not yet buried within his quivering bottom, the bear's cock was no longer simply lodged down the young man's throat; it had sunk straight through. Now, her glistening shaft, bathed in the drooling rabbit's saliva, was poised to release another thick load of not-quite-cum to burble and splash directly into Bishie's stomach. She pulled back a bit, but found his throat muscles working against her, writhing along sides of her cock, milking and stroking, coaxing her toward the inevitable. "B-but you have to, just have to get your dick down this bunny's throat. Aaah," Piho rumbled in a near hiss, "no gag reflex either. I think your boy was made for this."

Bishie shivered and shook, his eyes stinging with tears that were less the result of emotion, more that of intensity. Still, with a heart aching from overuse, he had plenty of emotion to spare. He was as full of conflicting desires, and shameful wants, as he was of of pulsing, throbbing, swollen cock. He wanted to cry out that this was not what he was made for, that this was not who or what he was. But there was no air to spare on an expression that was likely a lie. Every breath had become a blessing, stolen in gasping gulps whenever Piho's rocking hips, or Myrilla's thrust, gave the chance.

Stars exploded along the red-black darkness of his tightly shut eyes; there was no way he could have endured the sight of it. Especially when the canine began to gather speed, and the pretty boy's face came perilously close to slamming against the polar bear's side of the wall. Only the thickness of Piho's cock stopped him, pressing him back toward Myrilla's shaft, impaling the bunny just a bit more between them. He was caught, trapped between a white devil, and a deep blue she. Unwilling to see what was happening to his spit-roasted body, and with scent and taste utterly flooded with the not-quite masculine musk, Bishie resorted to external touch. It was all he had left, what with every internal synapse already overloaded in sensation.

Trembling fingers rose to his throat, brushing along flesh that was stretched so thin, by the bulge of Piho's arousal, he could swear she must have felt his touch. Down below, it was even worse, his stomach distended into a near perfect impression of Myrilla's length. Oh god, was she all the way inside of him? Or was there more to come? Could she even get any more, could she- the bunny's thought was cut short at his face made contact with the wall.

It had finally happened. The pair's shafts were now as slick as they could be, glistening with bunny droll, precum, and sweat. His openings had been tunneled and stretched till they were perfect sheaths for the hard, pummeling erections sunk deep within. Now, his body was beginning to roll, to slip down one, and then slide back the other. The bunny's body began to bounce between their cocks.

Gliding forward, his lips hilted against Piho's shaft, laying a kiss to her pelvis through the glory hole. With a gasp, she reared before thrusting, causing the bunny to fall back, slamming hard against Myrilla's side. Judging by the bloo beauty's growl, and the way his bottom practically buckled, he had every inch of her now, all the way to the root.

Something internal, a heat that had been building ever since Myrilla's powerful thrust had first pressed that sensitive button within, went squish. His cock came alive, without touch, or guidance. Hot bunny cream splashed against the grate underneath, rolling down the metal filter in slow, sticky stream. Worse, it kept coming, erupting from an over-excited tip that seemed unable to stop. It sent spasms, both along his throat, and through his bottom, causing both entrances to suckle at those impaling shafts in a wanton rut.

***

Myrilla could not believe what she was feeling. The bunny's body had slammed back into her, either by his own choice, or her partner's thrust. Whatever the case, his pink internals were grasping, suckling at her cock, pulling her forward till the stall wall seemed little more than a satin sheet between them. It was just a veil now, something hung between the pair so they could maintain their respective purity. Not that Myr had any she needed to protect, and while the bunny seemed to think otherwise, his body was far more honest. It wanted her, needed her, and with enough time, she meant to convince the rest of him. Fuck, if only she could grab the bunny's ass right now, squeeze it hard, leave red impressions of her fingers while she laid claim.

Still, she meant to leave a mark, one way or another, "Nearly there, Piho?" Myrilla growled, hips pulling back, with surprising resistance from her playmate's bottom. Mm, that ass of his was so wonderfully greedy. "Hard, deep, until we meet in the middle?"

Piho laughed, though she found herself peeling the top of the wall downward, bending it beyond steel bearings which had been meant to endure exactly someone of her strength. Funny how they always underestimated. She slid her hands to the sides of the wall, gripping it by its foundations. The sweet meat inside had begun to slide, a matter of inches either way, but no matter which way he went, he met someone at the hilt. While she liked to think of herself as someone with limitless stamina, she had to admit, the warm wet gulp of his throat had won. "Yes, oh god, yes! Le-let's breed this boy."

Slap! That was Myrilla's response, her hips hitting the wall, her cock gliding forward to Bishie's internal end, grinding wickedly along an already over-sensitive prostrate. She felt the bunny's body slip, just enough to cause her toes to curl, her tip to swell, something tightening below. "Again!"

Slam! Piho replied, her hips hitting the wall, her hands conducting the quake to the ceiling, causing a few bits of plaster to fall over their heads. Damn, he was deeper than he seemed. Maybe she really would find her cock-head grinding against Myrilla's own. If so, the polar bear was going to paint that blue cap white with cream.

They began to piston, back and forth, sharing Bishie's writhing, gasping, gaping body between them. Every pulse and lift of cock, shaking their warm, tight cock-sleeve. Their flesh burned, tightened, clenching into a muscle, a machine, fucking the bunny mercilessly as the stall buckled and warped. Guttural groans slipped their lips, the metal of the glory hole shrieking as their fingernails dug through the material. Twin cocks began to bob, each of them coming to life within their battered bunny. His face and bottom cheeks were now matted by bruises, precum, and sweat, his cotton tail trembling. The rising hardness within lifted the poor boy off his feet, causing him to squeal, muffled to silence by Piho's quivering member.

Her shaft was the first to erupt.

***

Bishie danced along twin poles, suspended by their swollen lengths. When the polar bear's cock exploded inside, he felt the swell of her load as it traveled down the length of her shaft. He tasted the edge of her hilt, his tongue lolling out to tickle the woman's balls as they went to work, delivering potent seed within a waiting receptacle. Down his throat, her cock rose with that first explosion, stretching what had already been stretched. This was as far as it could possibly go, without bursting. And then her cap flared, jerked, and released. A sudden cramp over took the young man as a fistful of molten cum slammed into his stomach with all the force of a solid gut punch.

It was followed by another, and another, causing his body to clench, and cringe, one hand rising up, as though to slow the flood down, a flood that was already starting to back up, till he could taste it on his tongue. Another load came, and the semen he had only tasted before, became a gorge, trickling, bubbling, falling from his lush bottom lips, landing in sticky puddles underneath, mixing with his own spills, and quickly overwhelming them.

There was a creak coming from Piho's side, loud enough to be heard over her aroused exclamations of, "Ye-yes! Take it, take it all!" Hinges groaned, plaster crackled, and then came a terrific snap. Suddenly, the cramped, humid, musk-riddled space was bathed in light, the wall in front of the bun disappearing before his now open eyes. The cock that had bulged his neck was yanked back, with such immediacy, it left a sticky, angry burn along his throat. Her swollen cap caught along the bunny's lips, and his gaping opening was soon filled by freshly pumped bear semen. Stomach filled, then cheeks. Finally, her not-quite spent member fell free in a tumble, spattering yet more molten ropes to sizzle across the bunny's face, stinging his eyes and practically shampooing his hair.

Then Myrilla came, and the bunny found himself flying backward as her side of the wall also dislodged. Only, there was no escaping the electric blue cock writhing within. He was trapped on it, practically knotted, though thankfully her shaft did not seem to have that particular feature. It hardly needed it, as tightly as it clung to his anal rim. The bunny could feel, even count, each and every metallic hop as they seemed to come alive, one, right after the other, following the trail of her soon-to-be expressed load.

Myrilla held onto the wall, which fell backward at an angle, until it came to rest against the opposite side of the blue mutt's stall. Her plump, blueberry bottom slapped painfully against the toilet seat underneath, but at least it saved her a nasty knock. It also drilled her erupting cock straight into the bunny's center. Gravity was her friend again, if not exactly Bishie's. Fully impaled, her shaft arced upward as it erupted, pumping what must have been gallons of freshly melted cream, straight into her groaning, overstuffed bun bun.

Writhing where he sat, pinned to Myrilla's wall by Myrilla's cock, he endured the pump, as he endured Piho's continuing shower. Not only was the woman behind, filling his internals, stuffing as much musky filling into the bun as could possibly be fit, even causing his belly to distend somewhat with the excess, the woman before was doing an awfully good job of covering everything that was external. Cream filled, white chocolate coated, the bunny would have made for a succulent Easter treat for anyone in the market for a cum-filled, and cum-covered confection.

His own pink shaft could not be silent as he was scattered, smothered, and covered, releasing a few final pumps to be lost in the flood.

Long moments passed in the relative silence of low, satisfied groans, and the creak of metallic walls. First to cum, Piho was also first to her senses, carefully pulling the wall from her cock, and laying it to the side. She was not an especially religious bear, holding to neither her family's traditions, nor to the more Judo-Christian beliefs that seemed to be all the rage down here. Still, she could not help but wonder if the walls of Jericho had ever tumbled down so neatly. Shaking her head in a giggle, then blushing, and biting her lip upon setting her eyes on the sticky bun, and the trapped canine that likely lay underneath. "Awww, you both had a rough time of it, didn't you?"

Bishie burbled, which was about as much as he could think to say at that moment. The cock inside had finally softened to the point that he could roll off of the beast, but given how big Myrilla still was, even sated, that could only mean his bottom was a semen-laden gape. It was sore too, ever so sore. H-how was he going to sit a desk like this? He blinked at Piho's hand, offering to help him up with an encouraging smile.

"Last sink on the left. It's got a hose attachment, and one of the girls rigged it for some awfully nice settings. Take your time while I help big bloo to her feet," Piho winked.

The bunny whimpered as he stepped up, eying clothing that was likely as much of a mess as he was.

"Hamper over there," Myrilla grunted, sliding from under the wall on weary, weak legs. Her stockings had fallen to her calves, where they bunched. "Most of it's girl's stuff, but I'm sure you'll find something that'll work with that figure of yours." She reached up to brush a dribble of spent seed from the bunny's cheek, though her face fell a bit when he flinched, pulling away.

"Y-yeah," Bishie said, his voice deeper, distant, and undeniably sticky. "I'll do that. G-got a class in a couple of minutes, I think."

"You know, you could always skip it," Myrilla tried again, this time sliding her fingers along one of the bunny's flopped ears, unsticking it from his back where it had practically been glued by Piho's potency. "Pretty sure Piho wouldn't mind some gearing-down time, maybe a snuggle." Dark blue lips broke into a warm smile, "I know I wouldn't."

"N-no, no thank you," the bunny muttered, pulling away from the pair and heading toward the sink, "can't miss class. Father would kill me."

Myrilla watched the bunny stumble to the sink, fidget a bit with the modified shower head, and manage to blast himself in the face with a sudden rush of cold water. "Think I lost him?"

"You? The great and powerful Myrilla?" Piho shook her head, "Pretty sure once you bounce a bunny, he's as good as collared." The white bear gave her friend a comforting hug with one arm, eying their dazed, stumbling playmate. "He just needs some time to process. That's assuming you mean to keep him for yourself. Could always just leave him primed like that. He'd make a great chew toy for the rest of us, and I'm pretty sure he'll end up back here, eventually."

Myrilla watched the bunny for a moment. She caught him turning to look at her over his shoulder, before blushing, squeaking and turning back to his hose, running it along his plump, if currently cum-dribbling bottom. "Nope," she decided, "This one is mine, hun. I'll share, but you get the word out, okay? The bunny is off limits until I've got him nice and leashed."

Piho put her hands up, submitting to the fierceness of her friend's declaration. "Gotcha, wouldn't dream of stepping on your claim. You have an idea on how to make it stick?"

The blue dog bent over, picking up the bunny's fallen textbook, fingers running along the spine, "I think I just might."

The End, of the Beginning.