FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Ahhhhh… Fresh air!… Hey! Careful now with that vase! It costs more than your house!"

The hands on his hips, breathing the slightly musty air hanging around, Faraday felt he was ready to take up the world. Well, he already did that, in a way, since his company was the best in the marine freight sector. He was at the top. Not right the utmost, with his name on every magazine whenever there was a crash market or something close. But high enough he was under the radar and yet able to splurge on any excess.

No, the lithe Sylveon relished the moment as he chuckled, showing his whitened teeth, his puffy but well-maintained side-swept bangs, or his white business suit that was perfectly clean at the moment. He contrasted against his employees, local brutes who toiled to bring about the furniture he bought and had ferried from the continent up to that little island. A little paradise mainly owned by other magnates. Though, this plot of land had been dirt cheap… And that palace of a house was even cheaper.

“Sir. House should be done in an hour," approached a Krookodile, a local who acted as a middle-man with the locals. His accent was thick, but he had enough brain to understand orders and attitudes. More so when Faraday scoffed back.

“It should have been finished by now," said the Sylveon, still standing by his car and watching the little men working on carrying the little trinkets he collected from abroad. Alas, nothing had been broken.

“Men are working slow. Afraid of spirits," said the Krookodile, his head down and tail swaying. “Traditions. They are praying."

“Spirits? Psh. Seriously?" asked Faraday, chuckling. Sure, “Ghosts" Pokemon could become invisible or intangible, but Spirits? Nevertheless, if there was, his anti-Ghost security system would pick them out once online.

“Yes, Sir. Wronged land. You need to pray for departed."

“Sure. Tell them to do their prayers faster. I want in and relax," said the Sylveon, handwaving the middle man away and glancing at his house.

For the last decade, the Sylveon had been fancying something… Elegant and flamboyant like that house. Away from his owned apartment in the North, he desired a private place, somewhat remote and protected from parasites like paparazzi.

Thus, this Island was perfect. The temperature here was sweltering with a tinge of humidity. Added to that were the greeneries surrounding the entire property, a jungle that would deter anyone from crossing it. And the best? At the back, there was direct access to a lagoon that had been walled off and would be patrolled by private security.

In the middle of this all stood the grandiose three-story house. The whole structure had been recently repainted in pure white, with its entrance reminiscent of British colonialism, with its main door slightly receded under the structure, supported by tall pillars. Partially protected, a long porch ran east and left toward the two two-story wings that were adjacent to the main structure.

Beyond that, each room had its bay windows; each bay window led to a balcony of variegating size, and each balcony extended outward. Either to see the main garden in front of the property, with all the imported statues of antiquated sculptors; or the back garden with its main pathway, the outdoor pool, and the hedge maze.

It was the most Sylveon could have gotten from the local landscapers, but he had already planned to expand the property to have a guest house near the pool and one shed in the back to house his staff. For the moment, they would have to come on foot to his property, but it was a mere sacrifice.

Finally, there were no more items to drag inside, and the locals started to pile near the home entrance, waiting expectantly.

Another… Sacrifice.

“Urgh. Sean!" shouted the Sylveon to call out the Krookodile, who answered by twisting his neck and coming closer.

“Yes, Sir?" asked the red and brown scaled individual with his dirty face and dirty overall.

Without even pondering, the Sylveon pulled out a bundle from his suit. Green bills, all of them making the Krookodile's eyes shine.

“Pay them, Kyle," said Faraday, grunting and entrusting the bundle to the dirty man. “Tell them to get off my property and never to come back. I'll handle the trucks myself."

Already was the Krookodile counting the bills, passing his thumb over the edge and muttering to himself. Why would he bother with pocket money? Still, Faraday, passed a hand over his bangs for a moment and looked around.

He'll have the trucks removed by his company tomorrow, and then…

“Sir, there-"

“Dan," cut in Sylveon. “Warn the locals I'm looking for maids. If they want to come, tell them to be there tomorrow at ten."

With that, the Sylveon turned, dirtying his mocassins on the upturned mud from all the carrying and working. However, the workers followed his instructions to the T as the inside of the house was mainly clean. They had to use slippers once they got into the patios and so did Sylveon as he stepped inside the main hall.

A set of stairs right and left welcomed him, guiding him either to the east or west wings. However, they also linked to the corridors leading further into the second floor… And joined further ahead to the third floor that housed Faraday's art collection.

For the moment, the Sylveon ignored the stairs and closed the door behind him as he strolled through the different rooms.

He started with the living room, wide enough to welcome forty people on sofas, chairs, and such.

He continued with the grand kitchen adjacent to it, unstaffed but made to welcome the soon-to-come chief and his clique. A contrast to the little kitchen on the other side of the building, for Faraday's private usage.

He then explored the dining room, with the long table that could be completed by a second one or even expanded to the patio outside through the double glass door.

Finally, he landed inside the study. Not really one, since it was filled with junk books existing solely to fill his shelves, and the desk would be unused. But should he want, the Sylveon could welcome a few guests behind the locked door and talk contracts. It could be compared to a little cabinet, but Faraday already imagined the spot to be sought after by many wannabe-rich, a club he would have the sway ov-

[I]“Woah. It looks so fancy, now! And what are those thingies?"[/I]

Faraday's eyes widened as he turned, the ribbon tied to his hair flying and his tail twitching. His blue eyes looked over the entrance, from where came the voice. But nothing.

He glanced at the black-wood door, at the wooden shelves forming a wall, at the room-sized red mat, at the chandelier above, at the… cushioned chair facing him?

But nothing. No one.

“Fucking Giratina," growled Faraday, undoing his tie and starting to work on his suit. He dropped the velvety fabric on the ground in his path as he stomped around. “Whoever you are, come here before I turn on the security!"

Nothing. No answer. Still, Faraday frowned and unbuttoned his shirt, black and yet with a darker spot from the sweat sticking to it. Finally, he approached the panel integrated into the wall, a green screen completed by a few touches, controlling all the recently installed security: ghost-detection, detection over any Move from any type, infrared sensors, and so on. It cost a pretty penny, but security was much worth it for the Sylveon as he turned every option like he was shown.

Then, he pressed one button, activating everything but the living room he was in.

Nothing.

Nothing even as he strolled around, checked under the table and near the couches. By now, he should have noticed who spoke to him, saw them or the security system would have turned up. But no… Nothing as the Sylveon looked at the chandeliers above, plural, and the painting of him reaching for the heavens in his birthday suit, except for a shell.

No…

“Fine. You're losing your marbles, idiot," growled Sylveon, going back to the alarm system and turning it off for the back garden. He scoffed, removing his shirt. “Too much heat."

An explanation as he had been sweating all day. He threw his shirt aside, exposing his thin chest and dry muscles under his white fur, except for his red hair, hands, feet, and tail. Strands were caked, and he needed a dip… Not a bath; he had no staff to rub in all the oils and essences to clean him.

But a pool dip?

Kicking his slippers away, yanking his socks, then pants, and finally his briefs, Faraday opened the glass window and strolled outside. Sweltering heat and humidity made it so he could take a dip outdoors all year long or indoors if he desired. He strolled, watching the blue ocean in the distance as he walked on the imported marble to his tiled and decorated pool, with one statue of a Kyogre spitting water at the center. Then he jumped.

His day was then spent between sunbathing, his fur sticking to his body, and returning to the water when he felt too hot. The only break was him searching his phone and calling his nearest contact, one lowly assistant, to order him food. Something that took too long. Still, the young Arbok arrived and averted her eyes from her naked employer receiving her at the door.

Finally, with a satisfied chuckle, Sylveon sat at the dining table in the dining room, unwrapping the foil and smelling the greasy food. It had been years since he had eaten something low-price and-

[I]“It smells great. I wish I could have some!" [/I]

Voice.

One the Sylveon heard, his ears twitching, as he turned. But this time, there was something. No, something. A Brionne sitting right by him.. He blinked, looking at the blue-furred sea, at those black eyes, that pink nose. But that Brionne seemed… Slightly translucent? Faraday blinked again and extended his hand, touching the Pokemon's red dress. No… Went through before he pulled back.

Silence.

[I]“Hey, friend. That is rude."[/I]

“ARCEUS BLESSED!" shouted the Sylveon, dropping his food on the table and jumping off his chair, uncaring he was naked in front of what… A real Ghost? A spirit? “What the fuck are you?"

[I]“Who the “fuck" are you?"[/I] replied the Brionne, putting his accent on the fuck. Before he turned. [I]“My house looks so different after your changes. And all those electric appliances are so shiny."[/I]

“Your house? You mean my house!"

The Brionne looked away, at the ceiling for a moment and chuckled at watching the Sylveon's painting, then down to Faraday.

[I]“It's wrong."[/I]

“w-What?" asked Faraday, fumbling and reaching for a plastic fork he pointed at the Brionne, who leaned on the table with one arm.

[I]“The painting,"[/I] added the Ghost, pointing with his index. [I]“The shell should be smaller."[/I]

Faraday's jaw dropped.

So dis his composure as he blinked and heard a chuckle from the intruder shrugging and acting smug.

[I]“It's too small. You don't need such a big shell to cover yourself,"[/I] laughed the Brionne, waving his hand between his legs where his dress seemed… amply doted.

Faraday's eyes widened, then he gulped, frowned… And grunted.

“Well! I don't care if you say it's small, I've pleased way more women than-"

The Sylveon stopped.

His interlocutor had vanished, gone without so much of a sign of its presence. Except for the moved chair Sylveon had been pointing his fingers at.

His blue eyes focused, unfocused… Then he ran for his phone.

Two calls later, six policemen were covering Faraday's house, using their dirty shoes inside while Faraday remained by the pool, with only a towel over his groin. His Arbok employee was by his side, with another meal for him and coordinating with the locals on his behalf.

But they seemed incompetent as they returned, finding nothing… Nothing as his employee relayed it to him.

“They say it must be a farce or a move."

“I don't care, Sandra. I want that thing out of my property!" shouted Faraday, frowning.

[I]“Thing? My feelings!"

[/I]“Oh, shut up!" scowled the Sylveon, glaring to his left where that Brionne was. But as much as Faraday pointed at that form, no one else saw it.

“Sorry?" asked Sandra, flustered.

“No, not you. Him," said the Sylveon, pointing at the Brionne. “But you can't see him."

Again, Arbok's expression made it clear she thought her employer was losing his marble. And so was Faraday as he cupped his chin, leaning on the table. The Policemen were already running through his house, one day after his arrival. It was bad press, bad signs for a meeting place…

For a moment, the Sylveon was thinking of moving, returning to the capital… But no.

“Mister Faraday," asked the Arbok, catching the attention as she had moved away for a minute to talk with the Policemen. “They said they found nothing. No signs of breaking and entering."

“Yes. Because it's a ghost," groaned Faraday, rolling his eyes. “It must be something. A Brionne capable of haunting."

“It's impossible, sir. Brionnes can't learn Ghost moves and… Even so, the Policemen used a Dusk Stone to see if it would react to any Ghost. They have not found anything so far."

The Sylveon frowned and rolled his eyes, watching the facetious Brionne smile back at him.

“Have them do a double sweep," said the Sylveon, standing up and letting the towel drop.

“Yes. I will tell them," said the Arbok, bowing and about to leave. Sure, she was thinking he had gone crazy. But still.

“Sandra?"

“Yes?"

“Am I small?"

The question surprised the Snake, who looked at her boss, adjusting his bangs and posing. He was not so badly endowed for most Pokemons. For a Sylveon, he reached the eight inches once hard with ping-ball-sized organs in his tight scrotum. Nothing that was too big, but generous enough, he wouldn't be qualified as tiny.

Yet, the Arbok looked up and down in disgust at her employer's question and blurted a: “It's adequate" before she ran away.

Much to Brionne's apparent laughter.

Laughter that continued and echoed in the night when Sylveon tried to tell the Policemen, without his employee, they had to do a triple sweep. And more as they left, with the sole indication to turn his Ghost security alarm on all the time. Which was the equivalent of telling him to piss in a violin, as the system didn't react to the Brionne floating around.

To that, Faraday left a message to her employee so she would call the security company to have the system triple-checked.

[I]“It won't do. It won't do a thing. It doesn't see me,"[/I] commented the Brionne, stretching right by Faraday. The moonlight started to shine and give the dining room an eerie appearance. A sort of presence exacerbated by the almost floating Brionne.

“It has to. I don't want to be haunted by a... Brionne, who's slipping inside my house to mess with me."

[I]“It was my house first,"[/I] countered the Ghost, popping in front of Faraday, crossing his arms. [I]“Plus, I'm not haunting you on purpose. I am locked here, if you want to know."

[/I]“Yeah, yeah," said Sylveon, hand-waving the Brionne and circumventing it, going for the stairs on the right, going for his bedroom in the east wing.

[I]“No, it's true. I have been stuck here for what… The last thirty years? What year is it?"

[/I]“1997. Hmm. Are you really a ghost? A real, real Ghost?" asked Faraday, watching the Brionne float, no, swim around.

[I]“Sure. For the last fifty years, in fact. It was 1946 when… Somehow, I died. I was waking up, preparing for my travel, when I felt a sharp pain in my chest!"

[/I]Faraday groaned and frowned. Spirits. If it was real, it was not a good thing. But if it was a fake, it was well-made, as the expression of pain on the Brionne's face could be felt. Even when Faraday entered his bedroom with his night clothes prepared.

“A sharp pain in the chest. Someone stabbed you?"

[I]“I assume it was my defunct wife. She always cried for me in public, but I saw how she lavishly spent her days in our estate before her death. Poor thing. She was constantly sick."

[/I]Grim. But Faraday didn't have the energy… No, the resilience to handle speaking to a spirit, or even a fake one. With bags under his eyes, the white-furred Sylveon sat at the bed's edge, pinching his nose.

“What do you want from me, then?"

[I]“From you?"

[/I]“You're haunting me, keeping me awake, bothering me in my own house!"

[I]“My home too!" [/I]grunted the Brionne, crossing his arms and keeping his chin up. [I]“But… You're the first to hear me and see me so clearly."

[/I]“… I do?"

With a cocked eyebrow, Faraday reached for his mouth. He heard rumors that the previous owners left the place suddenly, without apparent reasons. Were they driven away by that Ghost, too? Still, he taped his cheeks.

[I]“Yes! The locals always come and mumble some pagan prayers, like it might help me get on my good side. But they never hear me. But you… You, my friend, you're the first one who heeds my words!"

[/I]“More like I'm cursed with a haunted house I cannot live in," grumbled Faraday. He passed a hand on his face, feeling his plans crumble.

[I]“Why can you not live in?"

[/I]“Because you are!" said Faraday, shouting and waving his arms. And for a moment, the Brionne's presence seemed to flutter before the Ghost swam around, pinching his chin.

[I]“But you could stay!"

[/I]“I…." said Sylveon, taking a deep breath. “Why would I stay then? When there's a Ghost nagging me? And bothering me? Making me look crazy in front of my employee and the police?"

[I]“You did that to yourself," [/I]chuckled the Brionne. [I]“But what if I could be accommodating?"

[/I]“Accommodating? Like, not haunting me?"

[I]“Yes! But not only! I could cook… I could take care of the house. Oh and… I can spy for you."

[/I]“Wait? You can do that?"

[I]“And then more! Do you want to know what your employee told to her little phone box? Just like yours! But she was talking to someone called… Shareholders?"

[/I]“The… The pest," grumbled Faraday, holding onto the bed's edge. His claws dug into the stone floor as he looked intently at his interlocutor. “What did she say?"

[I]“Hmm… Maybe you have delirium and should be replaced early. And she's planning to take the matter to Mr… HR?"

[/I]“I'll have this handled… Arceus graced. Woah."

Faraday dropped back. Dropped on the bed, looking at the ceiling. At the chandelier. Then at the Brionne's face.

[I]“Woah?"

[/I]“You might spare me some headaches. Even if you caused all this."

[I]“That was not my intention. To be fair, I preferred if we were friends, dear… Faraday? I'd like you to extend your stay here."

[/I]For a moment, the Sylveon frowned and pouted. He had his fingers drumming against his chest… Pondering, thinking, and then sighing.

“Maybe I can stay here. If you are this accommodating and can really help me. Plus, if you can spy without getting caught, I might need your presence for my business deals…"

The Sylveon thought and mouthed some ideas before he smiled and nodded. “Fine. I might be striking a deal with the devil, but I accept… Huh."

[I]“Déjà Vu. My family name is Déjà Vu."[/I]

---

Somehow, Faraday thought, striking a deal with a Ghost might have been the best idea he ever had in his life. Yet, as an astute investor and CEO, he was sure he had picked a fair share of good ideas. However, the day after, Faraday called HR and had them handle Sandra's case before she could send any report. After two weeks, they had her reassigned to a manager with a high turnover.

That case handled, Faraday felt like his life had become a breeze inside his new home with Déjà Vu by his side. The Ghost constantly had that devious and strange smile, that impish attitude that rubbed off on Faraday. But he proved to be a talented man, and… Butler, in a way?

Déjà Vu might have been a Landowner before. But it was clear his capacity as a ghost made him the perfect butler as he could clean, cook, and help Faraday in his day-to-day life.

An unlikely presence, the Sylveon enjoyed as he discussed with the gentlemen between his calls and organization, having him float around and picking up Faraday's folders when he needed them in his office. It was obvious Déjà Vu had no experience with technology, as each new piece was somehow the source of endless requests and questioning. But if it was physical or mechanical, Déjà Vu could handle it.

However, it was only three weeks into that routine Déjà Vu proved his entire worth.

That date, most of the upper crust living on the Island, or having ties with Faraday, were invited to Faraday's home. The security was tighter, but tighter were the lips around the Sylveon as he strolled around, making small talk with his guests about topics like the next war in the Middle East, or whatever would be the next trend.

However, Déjà Vu was ready to feed Faraday the little rumors and stories that were told behind his back.

Angstrom Industries wanted to take over a contract? He would have to call on the other side and offer them a contract renewal in advance, to strong-arm them.

Pethia was telling rumors about Faraday's bouts of insanity his first day here? Well, her invitation will be lost next time.

Luther Smith wanted some free time to talk an idea with Faraday's shareholders; Faraday would have all the details fed into his ears.

He was given ammunition to handle the cutthroat, and none seemed to notice, even if they were making every effort to hide themselves and check for any listening devices… Unaware Déjà Vu was hovering above their heads. He hated those politics, that little play, but Déjà Vu seemed devout to Faraday and keen on helping him undo the little alliances against the Sylveon, much to his chagrin.

Faraday? Oh, he was fine with that, hiding any bout of laughter from Déjà Vu's revelations with a sip of champagne.

This night, that very night, was the best, and by the end, as most guests were moving back or hunkering in their bedrooms while under security, Faraday finished sending messages and notes to his assistants so they would mull over his requests while he slept.

[I]“Long night, isn't it, my friend?" [/I]asked Déjà Vu, behind Faraday. The Sylveon turned on his chair, abandoning his computer and Overlook to glance at his ghostly friend.

“Very long night. But full of confirmation. What do you think of it all? This soirée?"

[I]“Heh… I guess it confirms my thoughts."

[/I]“Your thoughts?"

[I]“It's impossible to trust anyone in business. They'll always betray you, your friends at most."

[/I]“That's right. I cannot trust anyone… Well, except the dead," said Faraday, turning and switching the computer screen off. “I'm glad you helped me."

That was genuine and earnest as the Sylveon leaned and had his elbows on his knees. It was late, way beyond midnight. Yet, the fairy Pokemon was brimming with nervous energy as he looked at the Brionne floating around and landing on the bed, sitting on it.

[I]“It was no problem. Plus… It feels better to be two intimate partners in crime, don't you think?"

[/I]“Huh… Said like that."

[I]“It's too suggestive? That's what you do, Faraday. Be suggestive around people, leading them on."

[/I]“I am no slut."

“[I]Are you?"

[/I]Faraday rolled his eyes, feeling again red-faced from Déjà Vu's probing. It was not the first time. It wouldn't be the last as the Sylveon stood up from his chair, only to feel a hand press against his chest and push him back into the chair, almost stealing his breath as he looked up.

Déjà Vu had that smile. No, a different smile that was almost more predatory as he leaned further, closer.

“I am not joking, Déjà Vu," grumbled the Sylveon, putting his arms on his armrest, watching and feeling the Ghost's eerie presence against his fur, making it stand up from the tension. But he couldn't deny the… Strange excitation from the contact as those fingers danced on the white fur covering his neck, and descending over his collarbone. Over the white shirt he had worn during the entire soirée, under his vest, over the undone tie, over the buttons.

[I]“Neither am I. You're not promiscuous with females. And well, you seem to be interested in males. But you are never sticking close to them."

[/I]The Sylveon grumbled and groaned, feeling the ghost hand dance over his chest, dig into fur, exposing his thin belly and delineated pecs. Faraday tried to catch that hand, but he couldn't… Déjà Vu was intangible whenever and wherever he wanted.

“Get your hand off me, Déjà Vu. This isn't funny."

[I]“What's funny is how you are watching everyone's groin, Faraday, and mine. But you are never telling anyone. Has society changed about homosexuality? Is it frowned upon for men to be promiscuous?"

[/I]“What… Do you know about that? Urf… It's not as bad, but if someone sees I am-"

[I]“If someone notices this, they'll exploit it against you. Is that why you are refusing yourself such pleasure, Faraday?"

[/I]Yes. It was why.

Because in a world where straight couples were expected, where being gay was frowned upon despite all the marketing and moves for accepting it, Faraday had to hide himself. No, he had to cultivate that idea of that wealthy bachelor who strove to be without any contact or any presence in his life, keeping everyone at hand but not any closer.

Yet, with Déjà Vu… That hand was delving inside his pants, inside his briefs, and finding his erection inside. Finding the uncut shaft tensing and fighting against the fabric, coating the cloth with musky precum. Even more when that Ghost started to rub his fingers against the length, to caress it, to dance over the veins.

“Hrmphh… So what? What… Will it be?"

[I]“I am a Ghost. Bound here. Unseen by anyone but you. What do you think if, for once, we could enjoy our promiscuity, Friend?"

[/I]The idea felt great. And greater was the pleasure of that finger trailing along Faraday's erection, of those ghostly and lukewarm fingers holding the base as he was still clothed. Something that had to change when the Sylveon started to peel his belt and open his pants, pulling, yanking, tugging, until his erection was in the open and stroked by Déjà Vu. Until, from the Ghost's cold presence, steam emanated from the Sylveon's erection as he looked at the Ghost. At the Brionne, whose clothes seemed to melt and disappear, to vanish. Gone was the velvety dress. And… Welcome, Déjà Vu's shaft, his erection sprouting free from his legs. A slightly translucent spire reaching the… Twenty inches? It was absurd. Absurdly big. Almost impossible.

A vision that brought shudders to the Sylveon, with cold sweat running down his nape and spine. He had been… Watching porn, getting those VHS from indirect contacts… And at no moment, even with the heavy-weight like the Machokes or Tyrantrum, he had seen someone sporting such a large cock.

Such a massive shaft, whose tip seemed bigger and wider than Faraday's mouth.

He gulped, loudly, watching Déjà Vu's cocky grin while the organ pointed closer, closer, and closer.

[I]“Open up."

[/I]An order more than a request. And Faraday opened up. His tongue extended, his face became flustered as he was opening up like a good slut in front of another male, even if Déjà Vu was a Ghost.

The shudders continued, his feet tapped on the floor, on the tiles, from the stress as well as the anticipation. Then, as the tip was on the tongue, Faraday felt… The taste. No. Not a taste at first.

He frowned for a moment, feeling a presence at his tonguetip. Far from the expected warmth, it was… Lukewarm. Slightly… Electric. It was less of a flavor and more of a sensation of his tongue getting teased, stimulated by a presence that ought not to be here. The Sylveon's fur straightened, his tail puffed up, so did his chest. His ears twitched, his face tensed. But then, the tip was at his tongue and give a different flavor. Soft, almost faint, but musky.

A flavor with a tiny tinge of salt, but nothing more. Nothing excessive as the Brione kept chuckling above.

By then, Faraday no longer resisted as the organ pressed onward. It should… Crush, break, split his mouth open. However, it did not.

As the ghostly organ forced onward, it bent, shifted, plied. And the pressure it applied, faint against the Sylveon's body, slipped within his mouth. Then, as soon as it passed, the organ seemed to extend and expand inside like memory foam, taking back its shape.

For a moment, Faraday gargled but found he could… Breathe?

Breathe perfectly fine, even though he felt he couldn't close his lips anymore or even speak up. He could breathe, but not articulate, speak… Or voice anything when the Brionne's hand landed between his ears to tousle his fur. His eyes pleaded, his eyes wandered on the ghost flying above him with that grin.

Then, the organ pushed deeper within him, inside him.

Faraday's fingers remained still while the cock, the twenty inches, were slipping within his throat with such an ease it defied anything he knew about himself… Or his capacity.

His throat bulged, obscenely. He confirmed it by stroking it, stroking the ghostly organ through the bulging skin as it sank inside his chest through his esophagus and seemed to disappear.

Faraday remained still, amazed, surprised, somehow lost in the moment and the perspective while Déjà Vu towered above him, tilting his head.

[I]“Do you want me to stop, Friend?"

[/I]No.

Faraday did not peel back or away. He did not push against the Ghost's thighs. He let it do and his eyes… The Sylveon's eyes pleaded for it.

Pleaded as the Ghost began to pull back, ever so slightly. With it, the lips followed the organ, if for a moment, followed it. The lips outstretched outward, forced by the sheer volume that expanded when leaving that tender mouth.

And it continued…

The pressure lessened. The presence almost vanished. The tension receded.

Faraday's body was on edge, tense, unable to stay still as his fingers gripped his knees. He remained seated, his blue eyes wandering and wondering.

Then, the instant that cock was about to leave, the moment that corona started to pull on Faraday's lips…

Déjà Vu thrust in.

The sudden advance took Faraday by surprise. His eyes widened and his eyebrows dropped, split and snot flew as he tried not to be overtaken by the sensation of a ghostly presence fucking his throat. By then, his uvula should have been titillated enough to make him retch.

But no.

It was easy, simple… Without constraint.

Without limit as Déjà Vu imposed a pace as he held Faraday's head and fucked his throat and mouth. The Brionne's balls, as impressive as that cock, smacked against Faraday's chin without incurring anything but a faint touch.

Yet, the sound of them hitting felt real, surreal even, echoing across the room. And across the Sylveon's mind as he was throat-fucked. Quickly, without a break.

His mouth formed a perfect O, and his teeth were away, even though they could not scrape the organ.

Remained then the moment, the intensity, the surprise for the Sylveon, who held dearly on his knees, while Déjà Vu seemed to relish and unleash what he had fancied. Maybe years of displeasure for the Brionne, whose face contorted, whose body tensed and clenched.

Could a Ghost cum?

The question could have struck Faraday's mind if his skull wasn't rattled by the ghostly presence and his brain awestruck by the moment, the instant.

Yet, the Brionne's soft-spoken voice turned into growls and grunts as the moment was coming to a close. To a brief flash of sheer pleasure erupting in a cry…

And a load right inside Faraday's stomach.

The Sylveon felt the sticky, warm liquid pour inside his esophagus, though he didn't know where it came from. He watched the Brionne's shaking body. He felt the throb against his lips. He experienced the growing warmth along the organ entrenched in his throat.

And then…. Well, the heat, the liquid, the weight.

Faraday's fingers left his knees to stroke his belly, to massage the fur atop it and below… Then, as if nothing mattered, the Brionne pulled out. No, yanked his cock out.

No droplets, nothing, no dirtiness. It was as if nothing had happened, except for two details: the saliva sticking to Faraday's lips… And the weight he sensed in his stomach, enough to press against the walls.

Two details… That seemed to be the sole thing that remained from the ghostly appearance in Faraday's bedroom.

---

Silence. The guests were gone one by one, abandoning the villa. However, they complimented Faraday on his silent and discreet staff, how wondrous the early breakfast was. Moreover, they even complimented the Sylveon's thin smile, telling him to act more jovial before the last one disappeared in their Lamborghini, moving back to their mansions or taking a private jet back home.

Silence. Faraday stood at the door of his empty property, watching the jungle beyond the tall concrete walls built around his property. He glanced at the empty parking spots, at the growing trees that were starting to shape up under Déjà Vu's constant care. Same as the statues, the instep… Finally, the wood door itself that bore no trace of wear and tear.

It was akin to watching a pristine and golden palace put side by side with slums. Dirty jungle and pristine mansion.

Faraday held onto his cup of coffee. By that time, the coffee had grown cold. But he still took a sip as he opened his bathroom robe, letting the fresh air rush to his private. His fur had been cleaned; he needed it… He felt he needed more than one shower, somehow, that morning. But he didn't voice the thought as he looked right.

He no longer needed the confirmation; he could somehow feel him.

“Were you avoiding me?" asked Faraday, trying to crush the hint of entitlement and anger in his words.

[I]“I gave your guests my entire attention. Then, I gave you the opportunity to reflect on what happened yesterday. You dearly needed it."

[/I]With that said, Faraday felt the cup in his hand lifted and replaced by a hot one. Freshly brewed. Black as night, and the flavor Faraday needed as he took one chug. He then looked at the entrance, unable to say what he desired. Did it feel good? Yes. Was it dirty? Yes. Would he do that again? He was unsure.

[I]“We should do this again."

[/I]“Sure."

Irony.

But that was how Faraday and Déjà Vu started that strange and odd relationship. Not with kind words and gestures, but with a simple affirmation and a nod. From there, it was regular for Faraday to host friends and potential partners as his company's ascension was impossible to ignore. He welcomed males and females from all over the globe… yet, they were unaware of what could happen when he took a toilet break.

Whenever he left the dining room, bustling with people and security, with freshly recruited waiters, it was for Faraday to have Déjà Vu grip his face and ears and fuck his throat.

Day… Night. Discreetly. Only one room away from someone. In the relative obscurity of a barely lit corridor. It was that, face-fucking.

And the Sylveon was not keen on stopping it somehow. Somehow… As he always returned to the party with a beaming grin, a glass filled with champagne in his hand, and a stomach so full his buttons were about to pop.

Yet, each time he changed shirts, taking a size above, it was to have the shirt struggle and almost burst all the same. Nobody commented on it, nobody commented on his belly showing some curves and his arms getting a bit more… Pudgy. But the gazes were as revealing as the vision Faraday had in the mirror whenever he prepared himself for the day with Déjà Vu's help.

[I]“Tell me. Something is on your mind. Is this… That computer again? I could cut the cable so it won't turn on again."

[/I]“I need my computer for work," growled the Sylveon, reaching for his forehead as he looked at himself. He gained some fat… Enough, he could pick some love handles, some rolls he dropped. Then he looked at Déjà Vu, still in his skirt.

The smirk from the Brione was perfectly adequate, mocking… And Faraday huffed. And huffed some more when ghostly hands went on his hips.

“It is my contact to the outside world. I must be present for them. I'm already happy I don't have to meet them for meetings."

[I]“Meet them? Meetings?"

[/I]“I am supposed to be abroad for the executive's meetings or the presentation to the sharehol- the investors."

[I]“Ah! It must be tedious to leave this Island… Hmm. I can even feel the stress and the tension in your muscles."

[/I]Without even having a pulse or a breath, Faraday felt the air brush his fur, his nape, his spine. Oh, his body tensed as those hands danced closer and closer to Faraday's posterior, catching up the recently added “padding" that caught people's attention.

“It's fine. I'll get dressed and send the last guests away."

[I]“No."

[/I]Faraday's brows dropped in a frown. He looked at the mirror, at the Brionne. For a moment, he saw a face different from the friendly visage presented by Déjà Vu.

A lustful mask completed by a tongue caressing Faraday's neck while the hands descended to explore the Sylveon's posterior, lifting it… Cupping those cheeks that were more than what Déjà Vu could hold.

And then… Then, those hands started to pry those cheeks open, revealing instead a virgin orifice. Untaken. Unoffered. Untouched.

Up until now.

The fingers, ghostly, danced and brushed the fur stuck in between. They brushed it, touched the sweat slightly caking the strands, before they landed on the… Muscle. The sphincter.

Faraday held his breath, but his body reacted with a tremor and tension. His knees locked, his claws extended from his feet and scraped the tiled floor. His eyes locked on Déjà Vu who didn't return the gaze, instead focused on the ass he explored.

Pried open… Pushed open… Forced open…

The sphincter was under the assault of an inquisitive, invisible, and intangible touch. The presence seemed to sink into the flesh, this time, and brought along a cold touch. An exceedingly cold touch.

Followed then a sensation Faraday never expected to feel. His asshole opened.

Not like when it was “necessary". Not even under his control.

It was akin to being puppeteered, to suddenly feeling that part go numb, and yet experiencing the sensation as the sphincter opened.

Followed, then, the room's cold air pressing against Faraday's entrance and then inside, like a cold breeze coming to… Touch and explore his private parts.

He could have kicked and moved. But the Sylveon remained stunned and locked, the eyes unable to peel away from the Brionne's lecherous expression.

[I]“You ought to experience a proper massage, my Friend. One, I am, luckily enough, an expert in giving."

[/I]A massage that was given by the enormous tool pressing between Faraday's legs. One throbbing, hard, and cold spire that was quick to brush the fur, the thighs, the muscles tensing. And going up… Up as the Brionne's arms seemed to distort and stay on the Sylveon's ass despite the distance.

Could a ghost do this? Was Déjà Vu that big before? His cock… Must have reached the twenty-five inches.

Even to Faraday, who had been living with him, there were unknowns about Déjà Vu's abilities.

The Brionne's arms remained on the posterior, keeping each glute pried and forced open… Then without any hand, his enormous cock wavered. Up, down, left, right. It moved, but not with the prehensile motions Faraday expected. It moved, it acted up, and finally aligned with the entrance.

“Déjà Vu… It's-" finally said Faraday, or tried. But he froze and stopped. What could he say?

Déjà Vu was his friend. Supposedly.

Refusing him… Refusing what he was about to do after all they already did would be stupid? Foolish?

Faraday had already sunk so much in, he couldn't refuse.

This fallacy was at the center of the Sylveon's mind, fought and opposed by the Businessman's rational mind.

But that notion of opposition and logic crumbled the moment the cocktip pressed against the Sylveon's entrance.

Such a width and girth was enough to strip away the layers of rationality Faraday had built. And that… With a single thrust.

One single thrust was enough to pierce through, to have the organ slip quasi-entirely within Faraday until his belly bulged and bloated from the inside. The Pokemon looked down, amazed and surprised, furthermore by the lack of pain or discomfort.

Déjà Vu's cock was there, and it was enough. Nothing more would be added, nothing more would impose its presence on Faraday…. Except for one.

One sensation he was to get acknowledged with as the Brionne started to pull out, pulling on the asshole and yanking on the rim. This, Faraday expected. But the moment the organ was about to leave, somehow taking back its original shape once it was out of the rim… Well, the spire pushed back inside, once more.

But it touched something.

Or rather, it touched something again, but the Brionne wasn't limiting the sensation of numbing it. Therefore, as the enormous organ approached, bringing along its death-cold touch, it elicited a spark when touching, squeezing, crushing Faraday's prostate.

The Sylveon's eyes instantly rolled in their sockets. Pleasure. Cold pleasure. Brutal.

Faraday's mouth opened. His tongue lolled. His claws scraped the tile. And his body arched, guided by Déjà Vu's delicate touch.

[I]“See? You are so tense. Let me help you with that."

[/I]By helping, the Brionne didn't mean to alleviate the tension inside Faraday.

He meant to fuck and break the Sylveon's ass with that enormous cock as he began to thrust inside Faraday, removing any pain and discomfort to leave him only pleased and satisfied by the presence.

In, out, in, out. Faraday's pleasure-taken mind did not even count the thrust, nor accounted for the growing pace and the increasing intensity.

Faraday's focus was gone and away. As much as his cognition as his eyes rolled and he mumbled.

Mumbled and came. On Déjà Vu's third hit on the prostate.

But by the time Déjà Vu spoke about Faraday's tension, he was at his thirteenth hit.

By then, Faraday's mumbles had become a whistle.

Saliva dripped from his mouth, and the sounds that filled the room were the echoes of past breeding, of ghostly nuts smacking around the Sylveon's plump cheeks… And the moans and grunts between the two.

In, out, in, out.

The Sylveon was entirely gone by the pleasure, his knees pointing towards the center and his claws dulling on the floor. Even the Pokemon's hands were opening and closing, clasping the air, without doing anything worthwhile.

And Faraday's erection, considered small compared to Déjà Vu's, went and passed three times. With each departure followed a shot. The first time, it hit the mirror. The second, the ground. The third, it was a dribble.

And it would continue, it would have reduced further and further if Déjà Vu himself did not stop. But the Brionne stopped, halted, paused… By his own orgasm.

After minutes of intensive breeding, giving in to his heart's desires, Déjà Vu came. And he did not cum a little like when he facefucked Faraday discreetly during a gander through the maze.

No… This time, it was a tidal wave that hit Faraday's body and belly, stretching the latter so much his skin was bound to bear stretch marks.

Yet, as Déjà Vu's orgasms receded, ending with a burning hot semen pouring inside Faraday's ruined asshole… Well, Faraday looked rounder than a pregnant female.

If bloated he was, people would assume he was bearing a dozen eggs. Yet, it was only and solely Déjà Vu's ejaculation. Déjà Vu, who pulled back, quick to reach for the living's shoulders to maintain Faraday afoot despite the tremor in those legs.

[I]“Oups. I might have gone overboard. Sweet Palkia. Look at the mess we made!"

[/I]Faraday only answered with a garbling noise, unable to tell anything apart, not even up from down. But if his eyes were to look around and at himself, he could have seen the mess they made. A part of Faraday… A majority from Déjà Vu. The ghostly semen, glowing with an eerie blue note, dripped from Faraday's gaped orifice.

It dropped and poured from the outstretched orifice, forming dollops that flattened under the liquid's weight and density… Before it spread and smeared on the entire ground.

And yet, it was only a tiny portion of what Déjà Vu had produced. The rest remained firmly stuck inside Faraday, keeping that taut and round belly that looked perfect on the Businessman.

[I]“Ah. Don't worry. I will clean this up for us."

[/I]

---

True to his words, Déjà Vu did clean up Faraday. And would do so every time a new mess was to occur. Albeit, never as impressive and imposing on the Sylveon as the first time.

After one hour taken to recover, much to the guests' dismay, Faraday managed to regain his wits and a wobbly stance before he sent everyone away.

A comical situation that would have wronged Faraday, if not the gaiety that followed the hours after that orgasm. Never before had he felt so exhilarated, so joyful, so excited to be in the moment. Even though his stomach weighed from all the semen, and the recently added padding, there was a pleasure the Sylveon couldn't deny… Not to himself or Déjà Vu.

A pleasure that would be… Reconvened.

Was Faraday afraid of his suit fighting against his growing belly, of the poor buttons losing the battle against the fat and weight?

Well, that fear was made real when the Sylveon had to waddle around with his belly round and poking out from his vest. There was no way he could hide it… Instead, he embraced it; he had clothes custom-made to account for his love-stuffed belly. Albeit none were aware from whence it came…

Neither that it was sometimes filled before their very eyes.

One glass at hand, Sylveon would be sitting on a chair and happily chatting with a few trust fund baby, trying to squeeze some indirect clout from those soon-to-be celebrities while Déjà Vu was at it, his cock plunging in and out Sylveon's ass.

Sometimes, the Brionne would entirely numb the Sylveon's belly, making Faraday unaware Déjà Vu was taking him unless he looked down. Sometimes, the Brionne would leave the pleasure free and have his cock lovingly nudge Faraday's prostate during economical discourse.

And sometimes, while one of the guests was out to divulge their new plan for the community they were formed, Déjà Vu would give Faraday a glimpse of the pain he ought to feel.

All the while, the position would differ. Afoot, sitting, reclining, in the pool, on a sofa, on a long chair, strolling along the beach, sunbathing. Any occasion was good enough for the lustful Ghost to unleash his desires and needs on the Sylveon, who, somehow, felt accommodating and pleased by the situation. After all, Faraday was given the pleasure and relaxation he so desired without any cost. And sometimes, he could ask the Brionne to change how the pace went… or to change what Faraday felt.

It was an exchange in which both got some release, and Faraday enjoyed his lifestyle as an isolated magnate without feeling lonely or unsatisfied.

No… He was satisfied. He was pleased. He was joyous… Which made that particular evening even more painful.

[I]“What are you doing? Should I help you?" [/I]asked Déjà Vu, glancing at the computer screen. Oh, the Ghost was eager to learn how to use it. And had become adept at opening the mailbox to give Faraday a read. However, it was different this time as Faraday was ordering tickets and preparing a quick jaunt to the mainland.

“No. I will be gone only for a few days," said the Sylveon, looking back. He extended his hand toward his suitcase, half-full.

“[I]Gone? Why? Is there something that doesn't suit you, here?"

[/I]“No," sighed Faraday, passing a hand to his forehead. “I must see the shareholders, present myself. If I don't do that, they might stop trusting me. No… They might backstab me. I managed to get Sandra out of the way, but anyone else could take my role."

[I]“So what?"

[/I]“So what? I want to keep my company, my work. This is what I worked for. I won't let them have it."

[I]“But you will let them separate us, put a wrench in our friendship."

[/I]Faraday continued typing, feeling his fur straighten before he sighed and passed a hand on his nape. Then, he looked over his shoulder, to the bed without the suitcase. Then up, to Déjà Vu, who hovered above and about. His lips were stiff, so were those shoulders and arms… So was the dress's fluttering motion. Was he so irate for three days away?

“What?"

[I]“You would let them be between us?"

[/I]“Between us?" chuckled Faraday, returning to his screen and the website. Getting an airplane ticket was already a pain, but with those new websites... He should have asked for an assistant, but they could be so… Intrusive and dangerous. “It's only three days. I'll fly there, return, hop. Back. You know how it is."

He typed, about to accept the transaction.

“Plus, you'll have the house for yourself. You can observe the recently delivered coo-HEY! FUCK PALKIA!"

Faraday shouted, raising his arms up from his keyboard as he watched the computer screen turn black. He reached for the monitor, pressed the button. But no, black. And the computer itself had turned silent. No more buzz, nothing, except the huffs from the Sylveon as he turned and found Déjà Vu holding the cable out.

“Plug it back! I need to get those tickets as soon as possible."

[I]“No."

[/I]“No? Okay, listen."

Faraday sighed, passing a hand on his forehead.

“Our friendship, or relationship, or whatever you call it, is important. But this… This is my life's work!"

He said that as he looked at Déjà Vu. However, the Brionne's soft and somewhat endearing traits were twisting. Nothing really changed, yet Faraday seemed to perceive the Brionne like through statics. Worse, everything seemed more trenchant. Especially those eyes.

[I]“You… Will not leave this place. This is our home. Our refuge. You will stay."

[/I]“Make me. I need to get that… Where's my suitcase?"

With a growl, Faraday pushed on his chair and checked his bedroom. With a frugal taste for furnishing, there were not a lot of spots where to hide Faraday's suitcase. Yet, he couldn't find it as he paced through the room, feeling colder and yet drenched with sweat. He needed his suitcase and to get out. A thought that was not only borne from his desire to fuck with the board… But from something primal. Something that made his blood boil and his heart thump in his chest.

A fear. Fear? Fear.

Fear as he looked above his shoulder to see Déjà Vu hovering only a meter away. So close, so damn close Faraday would've felt his breath if the Ghost was alive. But the fur on his nape was still… brushed?

“Stop messing with me, Déjà Vu. And help me find the suitcase. I need to leave!"

[I]“You won't leave this place."

[/I]At that moment, Faraday started to freak out. Never had Déjà Vu employed such an imperious and cold tone with him. Worse, as the Pokemon spoke, the lights in the room went out… Yet, an eerie blue glow seemed to encompass everything, to give a colder presence to an already cold room.

Worse, as Faraday breathed, a steam cloud formed at his lips, and he shivered. So cold, so damn cold. He passed a hand on his chest, turned, and dashed to the door to open it. But no, it was blocked, locked? It had no lock. It should be impossible for him to be locked inside. Yet, as much as he pulled, Faraday could not get the door open. And his heartbeat quickened.

“Déjà Vu! Stop this! You are frightening me!"

[I]“Me? I am but your friend, Faraday. It is the outside world you should be wary of. Me? I am… Here."

[/I]The last word seemed like an echo coming from the entire place. Floor, walls, ceiling. Déjà Vu.

Déjà Vu, who forced his presence with his arms on Faraday's shoulders, holding the Sylveon, who felt suddenly sluggish. No. His arms wouldn't answer him, and one by one, by the ghostly Brionne, his fingers were pried from the door handle.

[I]“Not so hard. But you must learn manners, Faraday."

[/I]“Manners? What kind of tune are you singing?!" shouted the Sylveon, the fur on his nape straightening and his heartbeat fastening. How… How could it be? How could his friend turn up on him so easily?

Has he been his friend one day?

The thought, the perception, the idea, it ran through Faraday's mind as he felt his body puppeteered and forced to back from the door until he was near the bed. Then sitting on the bed, then reclining on it.

[I]“Manners. How a proper friend shall treat a gentleman like me."

[/I]Again, Faraday's body moved. Not away from the Brionne flying over the bed, his dress lifting and lifted by that growing, yet ghostly, erection. No, it moved to undo the half-buttoned shirt, the pants, the socks.

One by one, all the layers of Faraday's body were exposed until his genitals were exposed, from his half-chub cock to his heavy testicles. All were exposed for the Brionne to see, and for Faraday's body to caress and stroke, to pump.

And Faraday's body did, even though the Sylveon's expression was strained and his teeth gritted.

“Release me, Déjà Vu. Release me or I'll never return to this mansion! I'll leave!"

[I]“Threatening me? What about our friendship? What about the liaison uniting us, Faraday? No, my friend. I see it now. You shall stay. You will stay."

[/I]The imperious tone was cold, colder.

And so was the air around Faraday's body, around his cock as he pumped it and felt warm blood rush to it. He felt the organ warm up, felt the sensation in his palm while the Ghost hovered above him… And landed on Faraday's chest.

Somehow, the Ghostly shape had a weight that pressed on Faraday's chest, made him strain and grumble while, on his back, he had his cock spurting and shooting precum on his belly and sheets.

“I WON'T STAY! I-"

Faraday shouted, only to be shushed by a finger pressing inside his mouth, gagging him as the digit delved against the uvula and beyond, a presence that felt more real than before.

[I]“You will stay. And we will be happy together. Without stress, without anyone standing between us, Friend."

[/I]Friend?

The word seemed not to fit anymore for Faraday. Yet, he was powerless in silencing the Ghost as he had his mouth stuffed. But he watched, and felt, Déjà Vu moving. He watched the dress seemingly disappear to unveil that cock that seemed, again, to have grown. Grown to an unrealistic length, bigger than Déjà Vu's chest.

Yet, it didn't matter to Faraday as much as the fear of watching the Ghost playing with him like it was nothing.

But that absence of fear for that spire was quickly resolved when Déjà Vu yanked his finger away from the mouth and presented the organ instead. One rigid, stiff, needy cock. One that was, contrasting to the room's cold atmosphere, steaming and warm. Searing, almost, to the lips as Faraday was enjoined to open wide and let it slip within.

He tried to cry, to shout, to attract someone's attention. But they were alone, surrounded by the Jungle. Even if there were anyone in the guest rooms, they might not have noticed the cry from Faraday. Even less the muffled groans and grunts coming from his lips. Stifled was his breathing, yet he felt like he could still be… Be able to inhale and exhale. In spite of the shaft, whose entire size was bigger than Faraday's head… Yet, capable of slipping through his lips.

He felt the ghostly presence like a pressure inside him that adapted to every crevice, every spot, every nook… Until everything was filled, even around the jagged teeth, without hitting or maiming Déjà Vu.

No, the Ghost seemed unbothered as he advanced and snapped one finger.

By then, Faraday had been masturbating and stroking himself like a degenerate, but keeping himself on edge through grit and will. One action that stopped when his fingers moved away and instead landed, each, on… A cock. Warm, steamy, but that shouldn't exist.

Likewise, his cock was grasped by something ethereal, too. An unknown presence that held Faraday's precious cock and jewels, massaging and rubbing them.

And again, this was but the beginning when the Sylveon's legs were lifted and spread, held by the ankles like a mere bitch.

[I]“I will help you see the truth in my words, Faraday. Maybe, it will be better for us to be united."

[/I]Faraday cried and cried. Tears streaked across his face, his arms and legs locked in position. His fingers, the last part he could have potentially moved with his own volition were dedicated, enjoined, forced to worship those cocks. He felt the frenum with his thumbs, the veins under the tips, the throbbing flesh in his palm. And he rubbed, the precum frothing and almost bubbling despite its ghostly and impossible nature.

What Déjà Vu was doing was impossible.

But the Ghost had already proved he could do the impossible if it meant pleasure or satisfaction. In such a case, it was a powerful and thorough pleasure that shook the Brionne and made him growl with satisfaction.

His cock delved deeper within Faraday, taking away his breath and yet allowing the Sylveon to feel unbothered as that fluffy torso was lifted and somehow bulging from the cock's presence. Tears continued to streak on the Sylveon's face while he kept stroking and feeling more cocks, more warm presence, being rubbed against his fur, against his face, against his ears, against his everything like a gangbang.

And at the center of all, he was the unwilling victim.

The unwilling presence that had to endure the sensation of something warm and slimy pressing against his back-entrance. His body quivered, sickened by the presence that was to take him and had, somehow, the same girth and length as Déjà Vu.

That cock ought not to be taken, ought not to be employed, ought not to fuck.

But it did.

With such an ease, it stole a sickened moan from Faraday as he sensed his prostate being crushed as well as his internal organs. He felt the pressure in his stomach as it bulged so obscenely, it was impossible not to notice the details formed by the organ and from the organ. It changed Faraday's body, too, twisting and shifting it somehow.

Or rather, maybe it was how the Sylveon still survived as his body had taken the shape of a barrel. Round, rounding by the cocks, both inside him.

A barrel whose shape changed and altered whenever the cocks, whether from his mouth or ass, moved. They were not synchronized, in tandem, but they served the same role and purpose in abusing and breaking the Sylveon's body.

Faraday's eyes bulged from fear, from horror, from despair as he was not only aware of the effect and pressure within, but he was somehow aware of how he looked.

His dry muscles were long gone. At that moment, however, it edged on the irony and mockery as his waist was so round, he almost looked pregnant. And yet, it was only the beginning as the warmth coming from the cocks almost spread inward, within. Entrenched.

Those were Déjà Vu's fluid, his precum, on both ends. Faraday didn't have to say it; he felt it.

And he felt it some more as the two enormous cocks picked up from a gentle back and forth to a thorough and brutal breeding. They moved, they hit, they smacked. So did their testicles, battering forehead and cheeks.

All the while, the other cocks kept moving and using Faraday's body. They rubbed against it, stroked against his chest; they employed his uncontrolled hands as makeshift fleshlights.

Then, as Faraday felt he was losing touch with his body, whether the sense of smell or touch, hence came… The ejaculation.

An ejaculation whose fluids were so hot and scalding; it felt like torture for Faraday. Yet, it was only from the coldness that had seeped inside the room and inside him.

Déjà Vu had done something to him. But what?

The question was there, certain. But unanswered. And wouldn't be as Faraday's thoughts were taken away, stolen, thrust instead to the sensations of Déjà Vu's cock, and its twin counterpart, moving with crescendo.

They were fast, too fast, way too fast.

They didn't stop, they wouldn't stop… And as the smacking became akin to a drumming, filling the entire room and drowning away Faraday's mouthing… So came the ejaculations.

Of all the cocks around Faraday, shooting all over him and painting his fur in pure steamy white, soiling his fancy clean fur. The shots went over his ears, over his face, over his eyelids he closed, even on his paws and on his chest.

But the heavier shots were deep inside, as Déjà Vu came… Came so much, this time, Faraday felt there was no end to it.

The Brionne was cumming buckets inside Faraday who felt his belly bulge and stretched from the presence. Then, when the roundness was not enough to hold the offered volume, Faraday's belly started to expand. Even with his legs lifted, Faraday had his belly expand in all directions, press and inflate like a balloon.

It dropped on the sheets, it advanced up to the ceiling, it forced his arms and legs to lower.

Soon, it even dropped on his face and hid it away as he felt himself slipping away… Somewhere else.

---

“And here is the house of Faraday, the former CEO of Faraday exports!"

With awe from the visitors, many were pulling out their cameras and taking shots of the pristine colonial house. The outside portal, of iron, might have gone orange from the rust. Even the outside walls were covered with ivy until the concrete, below, couldn't be seen…

But the house beyond seemed as clean and beautiful as in its first days. Likewise, the Garden was perfect in all accounts, showing no signs of degradation on the statues or the growing exotic plants.

“Can we visit?" asked a Gardevoir, raising her hand to get the local's attention, a Krookodile.

“No, no, we can't," answered the Crocodilian in return, shaking his head. “The house is the government's property. No one is allowed inside since three policemen disappeared inside."

“But why is it still here, then? And what happened to the policemen?"

“We don't know. The rumors are any construction engine on the site don't work and magically vanish. No… Keep your distance from that house. Let's go, we have more homes to see."

With that, the Krookodile waved his hand, ushering the tourists back inside the bus after they had all taken their photos or even had to stop one young child from climbing the foliage.

In the end, the bus disappeared and left, giving back to the eerie silence in the jungle surrounding the house… And the house itself as Déjà Vu turned his gaze away from the window.

[I]“Our guests are gone, Faraday. It is a shame, we would have gladly welcomed another friend. Don't you think?"[/I] asked the Brionne, his lips split in a grin as he looked at the Sylveon on his knees. It had been such an effort, with that round and gravid body, for the Sylveon to crawl there.

But Faraday did so with such a dedication, one met with the desire to get his throat impaled on the Brionne's ghost cock.

Again, the Brionne was feeling his desire and excitation grow in his throat and groin. He grunted, massaged his said throat while the other hand reached to stroke Faraday's face. Initially, the Sylveon might have been frustrated and angry to have been taken to the other side.

But now, the former CEO looked much happier. Much more happier as he kept gargling on Déjà Vu's obscenely over-sized cock.

Gargles and moans that filled the mansion day and night, keeping anyone away from the couple of “Friend" who had decided to spend their eternity together.