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The air in the office was cool, an oasis in the middle of the busy factory floor. Machines thrummed below and around, shaking the foundations in irregular quakes which Elizabeth Cox seemed used to, but with each, Desmond Lankett looked around nervously as though he detected some sublime evil in the room.

Elizabeth looked up from the report in her fingers. She grinned wanly, blue eyes gleaming like shards of ice. "So you've been here three weeks and the sound of the press still spooks you? No wonder the others think you're troublesome."

Desmond the foxcoon took umbrage at this. He visibly bristled, his ears first flattening then fanning out from his skull. "Ain't my fault the other guys figure teasin' me is all funny 'n harmless," he said in his endearing drawl, which straddled the unlikely line between southern belle and cocksucking homosexual. "They're droppin' them bins when my back's turned, firin' up the press when I'm standin' right next to it... Sons-a-bitches can't grab the grease guns without askin' me if I need my cooter lubed up - pardon my language, Miss Cox."

The kangaroo laughed into her palm, disguising it as a cough. She was usually good at hiding her distaste with employees, but Desmond was a horrible fit for a scrapyard. She had him pegged more as someone with a major in liberal arts. Although she could attest to the mendacity of the rumors that he had slept with the boss to get the job in the first place, it seemed like something the boy in front of her was capable of. Just looking at his long, thin snout and full black jowl-lips caused her to suffer a brief but potent blowjob fantasy.

"Right. Well." She cleared her throat and crossed her thick legs. The powerful fluorescent light of the office seemed to be absorbed by her pitch-black stockings. They had a certain allure her less opaque ones lacked. The rest of her outfit had shades of Office Slut chic, with a knee-length charcoal skirt and a white blouse tight and thin enough that her barbells appeared through it, framing her nipples for a peculiar trio of bumps on either tit as one faced her. Her long, strong tail draped behind her like a king cobra's body, not presently supporting her weight. She flicked back her short, fiery hair and set aside the report. "Mr. Lankett. Sweetie. Have you ever given thought to a different career?"

Desmond recoiled slightly, looking at Elizabeth with eyes which were almost hurt. "I do this career just fine, an' thank-ya'-very-much for that," he retorted, snapping his arms into an impassive fold. "S'just the other guys, they're messin' with me." He nodded at the report on the desk. "I figure this is th' best way to get some results, innit, Miss Cox?"

"Honestly? Not really," the kangaroo admitted, and shoved the three-page report off onto the floor. It flapped in the air, bound at the corner by a staple, and landed in a mess at Desmond's feet like a wounded bird. "Honey, the other guys don't like you. You're not going to fit in, and filing reports is just going to make you a laughingstock." Illustrating her overall point, Desmond flinched at a crash of metal down below. "See? You're no good here. Now, look, I don't mind giving you a glowing recommendation if you want to use me as a reference somewhere else. Say, a Starbucks or something."

The foxcoon gnawed his lip. Elizabeth watched how it puffed around his teeth, turned briefly white, then regained its beautiful matte blackness when he relaxed his jaws to speak. "But-, but see now, m'papa told me I ain't no son of his 'less I can hold down a real job, no sissy shit. Pardon my language."

Daddy issues on top of it all? Christ, what a poor kid. Elizabeth felt a pang of sympathy for the foxcoon, but it existed alongside her lust for him. Despite her concern, this little meeting was going to end with him leaving the premises, that was just a fact, and she doubted if she would ever have such a fine opportunity again.

"All right, hon," the kangaroo said, smiling thinly. "I'm gonna tell you why you're not fit to work at a scrapyard."

"But I am! I meet my quotas!" Desmond protested, appearing childishly frustrated.

Elizabeth scooted off the desk, her tail sliding after her passively, furthering the comparison to a snake's length. Suddenly and in an utterly casual manner, she pulled up her skirt and revealed to Desmond her matched black panties which bulged obscenely with cock and balls. "Suck my cock," she said calmly.

"Well-, well shit," the fox muttered, blushing. He cupped around his maw as if to say well I never!

The kangaroo stepped closer to Desmond, seated in the stiff little economy chair with the garish floral pattern on its back rest. "Come on. Don't act like you've never seen a chick with a dick. Swallow my cock and make this easy for both of us."

That was all the pushing he needed. Desmond, in his greasy, sweaty, olive-hued jumpsuit with his name sewed in cursive on his breast, grabbed Elizabeth's wide hips and peeled down her panties. Her long flaccid cock dropped out and dangled from her loins, its glans obscured by intact foreskin. Fat balls, dressed in the same auburn fur as her body, hung below in their sack. Both were big as golf balls, and the right hung just slightly lower than its twin.

"Gawddamn," Desmond murmured, and this time, as last time, he did not ask for a pardon. "Well, I um," he licked his lips, tail swishing, a big banded brush which the kangaroo thought looked exceptionally fluffy. "S'quite a nice pecker ya' got here, Miss Cox."

"And that's why you're not fit to work here, or at least a part of the reason," Elizabeth coldly explained. She put her warm, insistent paws on his crown, digging her fingers through his hair until she had excellent purchase. Pulling him in, she said, "Now blow my balls off, you little sissy, and I'll make sure your severance pay has a few extra zeroes on it."

"Severance pay!" Desmond cried, dismayed. His nose mashed into the kangaroo's fat balls and he uttered a weird, stunted mmph! noise which Elizabeth found amusing enough to giggle at.

She ground against Desmond's face, smearing her scrotum on his nose and her cock on the side of his muzzle. His fur was exquisitely soft. "Here's some life advice, honey," she said, pulling him in tight. She listened to - and felt quite firmly - his long nasal inhalation, knowing full well he could have used his mouth. "Your dad sounds like a prick and you're, what, twenty? Go be your own man. This job's not fit for you. This job, meanwhile, seems like exactly the kinda thing you enjoy. So open that cute mouth up good and wide and suck me 'til I pop, because if you stick around here, eventually those little pranks are gonna turn into your queer ass getting maimed in a workplace accident, knowing these pricks."

Desmond was given some slack by the kangaroo. He gazed up at her past the thick curves of her bust. "If ya' say so," he conceded bitterly, but opened his mouth in wide, faggoty eagerness she was unsurprised to see.

It always took forever for Elizabeth's fat prick to wake up. She was maybe three-quarters mast, decent enough to enter a mouth which could pick up the slack. She guided the mildly flaccid but murderously thick flesh of her penis to his lips and slid in, gliding on his tongue. A sheen of drool made the entry as simple as sinking a key into its lock. Her bulging meat ground along his teeth, but Elizabeth liked the texture. It butted up to the entrance of his throat, causing him to utter a gag. She smiled and patted his head patronizingly. "Can't swallow a dick? I don't believe you, but if you say so."

The southern-fried boy flared his nostrils in a huff, blowing hot air across Elizabeth's groin. Drool fell from the corners of his mouth and the precipice of his chin, dripping to the linoleum floor and blotting onto his uniform's wrinkled breast. He started to coil his tongue around her meat, corkscrewing it along the flesh and torquing the muscle all the way, giving her penis squeezes and gentle twists which left her huffing from her nose, but not outright panting yet.

"That mouth works a cock almost as cutely as it speaks, doesn't it?" Elizabeth asked, smiling wanly. She slid her paws through his hair and the silky, well-loved locks affirmed that she was doing the right thing in firing him. Nobody who looked and smelled this pretty could possibly last long around the assholes working the scrap shift. She felt an image of savage queer-stomping cropping up in her mind, gaining detail like a shoot budding with leaves in a time lapse. She swung her heavy tail and thudded it against the desk like a mace. The noise was dull but heavy, making Desmond flinch. The pain it caused Elizabeth snapped her back to the reality of what she was doing in her office.

"Hey," she said coolly, "you say you like working with your hands, right? Then whip out that dick and rub one out for me." She nudged forward with her loins alone, bumping her cock's blunt head into Desmond's throat. Her balls swung in a short, almost unnoticeable arc. "And start sucking... that thing with your tongue is nice, but I'm here for some real fellatio. It's not a lollipop."

Desmond closed his eyes and his jowly lips, the former all the way and the latter as much as he could. It was almost impossible to form a seal around so much meat when it wedged open his jaws so far, but he tried, and from his sissy southern mouth came a quiet suckle. It took everything he had to keep the seal up; his jowls were pulled in as far as he could manage, and they clung to the kangaroo's bitchmeat like a second skin. Elizabeth moaned and cupped Desmond's ears as if she intended to throttle him like a motorcycle, but she only rubbed them with gentle care.

If it was the last thing he was going to do at the scrapyard, Desmond wanted to make Miss Cox happy. Even as he felt blood surging in his head and as his oral muscles fatigued from the overtime work, he sucked until he couldn't suck anymore, then he let the seal break and his muscles relaxed. Elizabeth's cock pulsed then in his mouth, bulging and normalizing with the beats of her heart. Its sides pressed into his teeth, leaving marks in the flesh. Desmond thought randomly, she really plumps when you cook her.

Elizabeth gazed ahead, through the window beside her spider plant. She could see the workers between the slats of the blinds, looking the size of action figures because of the distance. That's right, keep working, she thought, giving Desmond's head a soft rub. Keep working and let me bust my nut in peace. Don't make me come out there.

The foxcoon slid his paws up Elizabeth's legs and under the dark skirt she wore. His fingers met the creases of buttock and thigh, then slid down as if rejected in some way. The girl was about to tell him to grab her ass if he wanted to, and to squeeze it good and hard in fact, but she heard his zipper instead. And then she heard quiet, but eager masturbation.

"You work that little cock," she said in nearly a growl. She began gyrating against his face, holding him only loosely, letting him move with or against her as he saw fit. He turned out to push into her, seeming to want it in his throat; he was even suppressing his gags, and she was impressed by his performance. "I'll tell you what, right here, right now - this is a one-time-only deal," she said, meandering to the point while she waded towards her orgasm. "Get it down your throat. Let me facefuck you good and deep, and you gulp it down and shoot your own little wad for me, and I'll see about keeping you on as an intern or some such thing. Somebody on hand to file papers, run errands, and lick the perspiration off of my balls."

Maybe Desmond liked her terms, maybe he didn't. Elizabeth couldn't tell, and more importantly, she didn't entirely care. The point at that moment as far as she was concerned was that it felt to her like he was trying to get her down his throat, and she was eager to end up in there; boys who were cute, hungry for the cock, and could swallow it were few and far between. If he could hit that last mark, and do it without gagging and crying, then she thought she might even pay the sissy out of her pocket just to keep him in the office.

The kangaroo licked her lips. Her fingers again slid around his ears, cupping them in a way Desmond found thrilling, but nervously. If she pulled his ears he would balk, and although he didn't have enough slack left in his mouth to bite, he knew pulling back would be very unpleasant for her and lead to a punch in the head. But Elizabeth, who had tender ears of her own, didn't pull them. She rubbed them, thumbing down into their soft white cups until she felt the foxcoon melt in her direction. His stroking grew faster and his tongue, by then relaxed from its corkscrewing theatrics, slurped along the bottom of her cock indulgently.

"Enjoy having your ears rubbed?" she needlessly asked, kneading them while a grin spread across her face. "Of course you do. I'm willing to bet nobody else rubs your ears when you're blowing them. But I do. I know you're a good little boy and you have good, tender sissy ears, don't you?"

Desmond's reply was a hapless croon. He gazed at his ex-manager from the tops of his gleaming green eyes, showing his lust gladly. He reached up, his free paw sliding along her leg, this time coming up to clutch a taut, but perfect ass cheek. Elizabeth snickered and didn't stop him.

"Come o-o-on now," she muttered, taking a look at the dusty analog clock on the wall. Its boring face pegged the time at ten to noon, and noon meant one of the workers would come up and ask her if she wanted anything for lunch and to fork over some cash if she did. Elizabeth didn't want to be caught with her crank halfway down to the foxcoon's stomach. "I think it helps if you swallow while I-, just come on, Desmond. It's not brain surgery."

Pleasure resonated in Desmond's small penis. Precum drooled from him, leaving a gleam on the linoleum as innocuous as condensation from the air conditioner vents above. He was on the verge and he knew a little more eager work would push him right past it and into his orgasm, and he was enjoying Elizabeth's unexpected cock, finding her marsupial musk and flavor most stimulating.

But Desmond was wary of swallowing her down, even as much as he liked the idea of it. He pushed in as she did the same, and her glans ground insistently into his throat's hole. Just like when he took it under the tail, he knew that he was tight and that it would be painful enough to curl his toes and put tears in his eyes. His go-to exercise was to take a deep breath or two until he could relax, but without that as an option here, he resorted to her dubious advice and swallowed as she pressed inward.

It worked. The kangaroo's cock notched into the entrance of his throat, then slid through as the muscles dilated. She penetrated him and slid in as deep as she could go, grinding her cock rudely along his teeth and tongue as it slid home. Desmond gulped and then gagged, but the uncomfortable sound was brief. Tears sprung up at the corners of his eyes and he felt a moment of panic as he realized he couldn't breathe, but when he swallowed, he cleared his airway enough that he could draw in air through his nose - air which was, of course, filtered through the kangaroo's sweaty crotch fur.

"Ooh, my sweet fuck," Elizabeth muttered, her expression not an in-control grin but a delighted, broad smile. Her tail swished and beat alternately against the desk and the wall. Her balls tightened while her cock pulsed in his neck. "Good god. It's like wet silk in there... forgot what a good time it is to fuck a throat. I mean, I'm not even fucking yours, but I'm clo-o-ose now..."

Elizabeth was indeed close, but Desmond was just crossing the finish line. Having his throat-cherry popped and his face in her groin was too much for the sissy fox with the southern drawl, and he erupted through clenching fingers, which he kept tight out of habit, not wanting to make a mess. Just like when he always made a mess in his bed or at his computer desk, his cum still found its way through his digits and dribbled onto the floor; and unlike the precum, this was an unmistakable substance.

The kangaroo bit her lip and rubbed around to the back of Desmond's head, sluicing his pretty faggot hair through her fingers and tangling its strands into knots he'd spend hours brushing out until it all laid just perfectly. She threw back her head, thinking only faintly that it must be lunchtime soon, and came with eruptive power. Fat ropes shot down into Desmond's gullet, a protein shake if there ever was one. Gripping his skull, she pulled back an inch, bucked in, pulled back, bucked again. Her big balls swatted his neck and his gagging throat milked her penis down to the dregs of her orgasm. In less than three seconds she only drizzled the watery remains of her climax, and she sighed in triumphant exhaustion.

She let go of his head and Desmond pulled back sheepishly. He coughed when her cockhead cleared his throat, passing all of her meat back into his muzzle alone, but he was rather collected after that. He wiped his slobbery muzzle off on the arms of his uniform, then rocked back on his knees. Very hoarsely, he asked, "I still gotta job, Miss Cox?"

Elizabeth drew her tongue along her lips. She grabbed some Kleenex out of the box on her desk, dropped them into Desmond's mess, and cleaned her penis with three more while she watched him obediently mop up his spunk. "I'll keep you on provisionally. Pay you your current wage - before taxes." Tugging up her panties around her flaccid, but hefty cock, she asked, "That all right with you? You'll need to take it up the butt, too."

Desmond blinked, but smiled crookedly. He tucked himself away, dropped the sticky Kleenex in her trash with some shredded documents, and took his place tiredly in the flowery economy chair again. "Well, uh, sure, Miss Cox," he said amiably, with a little more of his voice, but still not all of it.

On cue, a Doberman with a graying face but sharp brown eyes let himself into the office. He glanced disdainfully at Desmond, then said to Elizabeth that they were all going to get Burger King and would she like anything from there? Elizabeth did, and pressed Desmond to ask for something too, even though she privately and luridly believed he was already full. She paid his share and her own, sent the dog on his way, and pulled out the lowest drawer of her desk. Inside was a bottle of rum, half-empty, featuring a nautical mascot in a familiar posture on the label.

"Here," Elizabeth said, pouring two fingers into a shot glass from the same drawer. She knew Desmond was only twenty and she noted the ease with which he consumed. She had one after him, then sat back in her softer, more flexible chair and said, "I enjoy a drink after I bust a nut. How about you?"

"Pretty good," the boy said, his voice nearly back but still a little gruff. "So, Miss Cox..."

"Mhm?"

Desmond smiled, embarrassed. "Well, if I'mma work privately for ya', suppose I should take the 'nitiative on my own sometimes, right?"

Elizabeth mulled it over, then said thoughtfully, "I suppose so, yes."

"So then," Desmond sucked his lip a moment and let it go with a pop, "I don't s'pose ya' like havin' your butthole licked as much as your cajones, do ya'?"

The kangaroo smiled back, appearing both friendly and pleased. "Mister Lankett, I think you'll enjoy your time working privately for me." She stood from her chair, stepped around her desk, turned, put her paws on it. The charcoal skirt hung on her wide marsupial ass like a curtain. "Get to it. I'm paying for your lunch, after all."