FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The lush gardens and scenery of Epcot disappeared as Ryan stepped through the door. He'd never been to this part of the park before, though he'd heard stories; The utilidors, the great concrete tunnels crisscrossing beneath Buckminster Fuller's great sphere. According to rumor, these tunnels went on for miles, from the maintenance and staff rooms near the surface, to bunkers dating back to the cold war, when old Uncle Walt's gentle hand still guided the company.

The great steel door swung shut behind him, the electronic lock engaging with a soft whine, and Ryan began his trek. The corridor was cooler than outside, and he found himself shivering in just jeans and a t-shirt - No doubt to help the mascots keep cool inside their heavy suits. He groaned at the prospect of enduring the Florida heat, posing with families and getting kicked in the crotch by petulant children; Still, he'd always wanted to work for Disney, and now he was, though not in the way he'd hoped.

Two years of animation school had honed his skills to the point that he was ready to enter the job market. He just sent his application to Disney as a joke, not expecting to be considered for anything, and when they replied with an offer, he was ecstatic. It was only after signing a binding contract that he realized he wouldn't be animating anything, aside from a fuzzy costume.

At least it paid well. With a bit of luck, maybe he'd run into somebody important and hand them his portfolio. He smiled at that thought; The job was far from glamorous, but it had the potential to make connections in the industry. Even if he left the company and never came back, he'd still be able to claim to have worked for Disney. Disney!

So engrossed in thought was he, that Ryan didn't notice another man turning the corner at the same time.

"Woah!" He took a step back, but it was too late, and both men collided, tumbling to the floor in a heap.

"Watch where you're going, kid," The other man groaned, wiping dust from his overalls, "It's not a damn racetrack down here."

"Uh, sorry," Ryan muttered, scrambling to his feet and offering the other man a hand. His cheeks burned with embarrassment; It was a hell of a way to meet one of his new coworkers, "I was just thinking."

"Yeah, well, just be careful with that. You never know who you'll run into down here. Could be me, or it could be that executive that stabs people's asses with sewing needles."

The maintenance worker turned to leave, but Ryan placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," He glanced at the worker's nametag, "Curt, you wouldn't know where the dressing rooms are, would you? I'm supposed to-"

"Down the hall and to the left," The worker grunted, before turning and continuing down the hall. Ryan watched him leave, a twinge of annoyance rising in his chest as he disappeared around a corner, leaving only his footsteps echoing down the hall. Sighing, he continued along his way, following his directions. He was annoyed, but he knew he shouldn't be; It was a big park, and everybody had a job to do. One jammed cog or broken pipe could break a ride, or even endanger park guests' lives.

His job wasn't quite so glamorous, but it was crucial nonetheless. Turning the corner, he smiled at the sight of a heavy steel door labeled Mascots Only. Scanning his ID, the lock clicked, and he was able to enter, letting the door slam shut behind him.

The dressing room was bigger than he expected, though he knew it would be big. It was like a warehouse, the ceiling towering more than a meter above his head. Rows of lockers lined the walls, while the center of the room was occupied by rack upon rack of colorful costumes. He walked between the rows, examining each for his allotted character.

Every major character was present, along with just about every minor one. One rack contained nothing but Goofy heads, while bodies hung from another, and feet were stacked in a neat pile on a shelf. He passed a rack of Mickey Mouse heads and shuddered, picking up the pace; It was like their eyes were following him.

The search quickly became tiresome. There didn't seem to be any reason or rhyme to the order in which the costumes were hung, aside from keeping characters together. Ryan groaned, passing by yet another row of spare Cinderella dresses, and a coat rack hung with cigar-chomping Pete heads. He glanced down at his employee ID, where the name of his character was emblazoned in block letters - Robin Hood.

Finally, he sat down, glancing at his watch. He'd been at it for five minutes already, and the room just seemed to stretch on and on. He was pretty sure he'd seen some repeated costumes, and some he'd never actually seen anyone wearing. New ones, maybe, or old retired ones that nobody bothered to throw out. He sighed, wishing he hadn't accidentally left his phone at home. He could at least call someone and ask where the damn fox outfits-

Ryan happened to glance up, and he saw it - A single costume, sitting by itself on an empty rack right in front of him. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed it before. His frown instantly turned into a smile, and he trotted over, brushing the dust off the plush fur. It was old, no doubt about it. Come to think, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen a Robin Hood mascot at this park, or any Disney park. His grin grew even wider as he realized he would be the first one to wear it in a long time.

Picking up the head, he plunked it on and gagged. It fit perfectly, but the inside absolutely reeked. Taking it off, he turned the hole to catch the light. The soft fur on the inside was tangled and matted, the result of years of neglect, but there was something more. He gave it another exploratory sniff and gagged, holding the old thing as far away from himself as possible. The damn thing still stunk of the previous wearer's B.O. Maybe that was the reason why the costume was retired, due to nobody wanting to get near the damn thing!

Nonetheless, this was the only costume available. He glanced around and noticed that the room seemed a bit smaller now - The far wall was surprisingly close, and he could see the ends of each row of costumes. None contained Robin Hood. Taking a final breath of clean air, he put the head on, breathing lightly to avoid getting sick.

The body came next. Ryan grunted as he lifted it from the rack, before letting it crumple to the floor with a thud. It was surprisingly heavy, with thick padding to help the suit maintain its shape in the intense Florida heat. With the head blocking any outside smells, Ryan didn't doubt the body smelled exactly the same.

Putting it on was probably a two person procedure, but Ryan was late as it was, and finding anyone with time and patience to help him would only hurt his ever-lowering chances of working a second day. With a groan, he tugged the heavy suit over his shoulders. The thick fingers made zipper it up a hassle, but after a moment, he succeeded, fully enclosing himself in the fuzzy second skin. The head clipped securely in place with a latch, and he made his way to a nearby mirror for a once-over.

Everything fit fairly well, with nothing particularly out of place. The only thing that seemed a bit odd was the design of the suit itself. It had been years since Ryan had last seen the movie, but he didn't recall Robin Hood being quite so... Jacked. The arms bulged out, not overly defined, but with the look of cartoon muscle. The chest was big too, with a tuft of thicker fur between the rounded pecs.

It was like some furry's idea of Robin Hood. Ryan snorted, giving an exaggerated flex. The polyester stuffing bulged out, seams twitching like oversized veins. The suit was really well made, though why anyone would design it like this was beyond Ryan's imagination. He chuckled, giving another flex, and accidentally bumped one of his shoes off the bench where he'd left it. Leaning over to grab it, he glanced in the mirror, and his eyes went wide.

There, beneath the short hem of his tunic, was a bulge the size of a volleyball, outlined against the green fabric. He stared down in disbelief, outlined clearly between his cotton-stuffed legs, and looked back to the mirror, as if expecting the bulge to disappear. It didn't, and so he returned to staring.

"A children's mascot," Ryan muttered. Slowly, a hand drifted over and lifted the tunic's hem, revealing a plain white jockstrap straining to contain a bulge of brown fur. Poking it gingerly, Ryan grimaced as it jiggled beneath the fabric. He could see every contour of it, lurking just beneath the surface of the costume. With a sick sense of fascination, he tugged down the waistband, letting the phony cock and balls swing free.

About ten inches of red, canine dick flopped out, danging between his legs like a limp rag, while two softball-sized testes hung in a sagging sack beneath it. Cupping the suit's balls, he gave them a squeeze, grimacing at the unpleasantly soft texture beneath surface, like a solid mass of low-quality silicone. The dick was soft and rubbery on the outside, with some sort of rod inside making it stiff as it slowly swayed from side to side.

"Baculum," He snorted, giving it a bat and watching it swing. He almost laughed, staring at the oversexualized costume reflected in the mirror - A furry sex suit, made with tender care by some perverted artisan - In a dressing room at a major Disney resort. It would be hilarious, if he hadn't been an inch away from walking outside in it. His employment status was tenuous enough as it was. Just imagining the repercussions of some kid accidentally nudging that jock strap out of position... He would be lucky to avoid jail time!

"Hell," He said simply, brushing his clothes away to sit on the bench. It was ridiculous. He'd have to find a new costume. No, he'd report this to management, then find a new costume. No, he'd - Ryan groaned as a strange feeling washed over him, cold sweat breaking out across his body. His entire body felt strange, hypersensitive, like he could pick out the brush of an individual hair against his skin. He was warm, too warm - Breathing the air inside the suit was like trying to breathe through a cloud of steam.

Instantly, his hands flew to the costume head, but no amount of straining could get it off. For a moment, he panicked, as thoughts of suffocating and dying rushed through his mind. In his mind's eye, a headline appeared - "Idiot Suffocates in Furry Sex Suit," probably followed by an article accusing him of everything from child molestation to communist sympathies.

Ryan began to laugh, either through stress or relief, as he remembered the latch securing the head into place. His thick, glove-encased fingers flew to the back of the head, scrabbling to find the little plastic hook that held him prisoner. Meeting nothing but smooth fur, however, caused a chill to roll down the young man's spine, and he groaned, cupping his head in his hands. His eyesight dimmed, his throat grew tight, and a sudden, terrible wave of itchiness broke out across his encased body.

Without thinking, he began to scratch, as if the thickly padded suit didn't exist between his fingers and his writhing skin. Dull claws pushed deep grooves in the brown fuzz of his arms, and he sighed as the itch slowly subsided. He sighed in relief as they prickling sensation disappeared, but something still seemed off, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

The second he opened his eyes, his head began to swim as a wave of cognitive dissonance swept over him, sending tingles down every nerve in his body. Something about his vision seemed strange to him, though he wasn't sure how. Colors seemed normal, and everything within view was as crisp and clear as ever.

The eyeholes of the costume were wide, but the field of view was small, like looking through a pair of binoculars. Now, his vision was normal, like he'd somehow doffed the costume's head in his writhing. He glanced up at the mirror, but the brown fox's head was still firmly planted atop his bulging shoulders.

"Dammit,"He muttered, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to banish the strange feeling, "What's-"

A prickling sensation began at the back of his head, and he stopped, staring at his reflection. Something was wrong with his voice - The American twang had softened somewhat, replaced with the soft syllables and clipped consonants of another accent altogether. He cleared his throat, but nothing came up to explain the change.

What's," He paused a moment, trying to ignore the strange notes in his voice, "What's going on?

Though he spoke as clearly as possible, no amount of intentional enunciation seemed enough to cure his voice of the strange new notes overtaking it. It sounded for all the world like a cultivated British accent, bearing no mark of his American upbringing whatsoever. Once, Ryan had read about a Norwegian woman whose accent mysteriously changed to a perfect imitation of a German accent after a severe head injury. He rubbed the top of his head, but felt no bumps to indicate anything - Then, he realized what was wrong.

He looked up into the mirror, eyes widening as those on the fox mask did the same. It wasn't the clumsy, mechanical blinking mechanism built to make the costumes seem more lifelike. No, he could see every individual wrinkle on the eyelids, beneath a thin layer of brown fuzz. He didn't want to believe it - It was ridiculous! Insane! But it was true - He had become the suit!

Holding his head to keep from swooning, a warm, acrid odor drifted to his nose. He raised his arm and sniffed himself, only to gag in disgust; The suit's innate stench hadn't disappeared in the transformation. He smelled like a construction worker after a long shift, like he'd spent the day jogging through the Florida heat, instead of sitting in an air-conditioned room.

The smell clung to his nostrils, unabated even after he lowered his arm. His entire body bore the distinct reek of a well-worn jockstrap, like the one he was currently wearing. Something twitched between his legs, and the pit fell from Ryan's stomach. Glancing down, he saw the suit's cock - His cock - Once a dildo, now a pillar of smooth, warm flesh, throbbing up past his belly button.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, pressing a finger into the turgid flesh, and felt a jolt of pleasure through his loins. He gave a slow rub, pressing deeper, and hissed as it twitched beneath his fingers, a glob of off-white fluid oozing across his paw. His overly-long tongue rolled out of his mouth, and he licked the cum from his fingers, recoiling at the salty taste.

After a moment's hesitation, he wrapped his paw fully around his new cock, giving a slow stroke that caused him to squirm in his seat. Every sensation seemed to double in intensity, as newly created nerves lit up across his body, making his muscles weak and his cock throb.

"D-damn," He muttered, "What's happening to me?"

He didn't mean to start jerking off. Given the situation, sexual stimulation was the last thing on his mind, yet his red-furred hands seemed to move on their own accord, stroking and rubbing his cock with sensual tenderness. The new cock felt even more sensitive than the old; If his brain weren't half-scrambled with lust, he would have wondered whether the old one even still existed, or the rest of his body, beneath the all-too-real flesh of the costume.

Confused, half-formed thoughts drifted through his mind, but the sight of his reflection quieted all protests. He was so hot! Ryan was never a furry, aside from a rather shameful stint involving catgirl porn, but this... This was something else. The way his arms moved as he stroked, biceps rippling beneath his plush fur, sent strange chills up his spine and down his loins. Sweat dripped down his forehead, glistening across his mammoth pecs and leaving small, dark rivulets in his fur. The time to start his shift came and went, but he paid the ticking clock no mind as he rubbed himself off, staring at his own incredible reflection.

His balls tightened upon themselves, and Ryan reached out to cup them in his other hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. This only seemed to increase the flow of pre from his throbbing cock, oozing over his fingers and becoming entangled in his fur. It dimly occurred to him that he would have one hell of a dry cleaning bill - Or a water bill, depending on whether he ever got out of the costume, but such thoughts were swiftly buried under the mounting excitement pulsing through his body.

Quickly, the buildup became too much to handle. Ryan's cock throbbed a final time before exploding, sending a wave of cum across the mirror, coating it from top to bottom in hot, oozing globs of sperm. The human-turned-fox's mind went blank momentarily, as it was overtaken by a wave of pleasure. His fingers involuntarily tightened around his cock, and for a moment, the stream died down, only to build up and overtake his pressure, surging forth in a thick strand that blasted a Mickey Mouse head from it's perch atop a nearby shelf.

He simply sat there for a moment, panting as his last dregs dribbled across the floor. His first orgasm in his new form was an intense one indeed, as if the newly-created nerves had been overloaded with pleasure. As his mind slowly returned to normal, Ryan couldn't help but notice two things - One, the intense musk billowing from his sweat-soaked body. The other was the maintenance worker standing frozen in the doorway.

"W-what the fuck?"

The voice was unmistakable, and he turned to see Curt, the worker he'd bumped into in the hall - Same little mustache, same stained overalls. The only difference was the look of utter horror plastered across his face. How long had he been watching? Ryan's cheeks began to blaze, thankfully obscured beneath his reddish fur. He thought quickly, though not logically, ripping a nearby Elsa dress from it's hanger and holding it in front of his dangling package, as if hiding his shame would somehow eradicate it's memory from the man who saw it.

It didn't, of course, and after a moment, the worker mustered up enough courage to take a step forward. In a quavering voice, he said, "Y-you better clean that up."

"R-right away," Ryan stammered. He dropped the dress and began to scrub the splattered floor, only to realize his dog dick was now hanging between his legs, in full view of the worker. Blushing even harder, he tugged the hem of his tunic to cover it, but the garment barely reached the middle of his rock-like buttocks.

As Ryan struggled to clean his mess, Curt slowly crossed the room, holding a broom like a sword in one hand, while the other plugged his nose; He glanced back at the cleaning cart, wishing he'd had the presence of mind to grab a face mask, but it was too late. As a longtime employee, he was used to the odor of a thousand unwashed tourists sweating in the Florida heat, but this was different; The stench of sweat and cum flooded his nostrils, infiltrating his brain and making his eyes water.

"I should call security," He muttered, watching Ryan's cock and balls swing as he desperately attempted to soak up his mess. He wasn't making much progress; The dress was specifically designed to be spill resistant, and his attempts to scrub just left bigger smears across the linoleum floor. He didn't envy the guy whose job it was to clean that up...

"Wait," He mentally slapped himself, "That's my job."

The buff fox's butt wiggled back and forth, muscles rippling beneath the fur with every motion. Ryan didn't mean to; As soon as he realized what he was doing, he forced himself to stop, but the second he stopped paying attention, his hips resuming their slow, sultry swaying, like a tic that just wouldn't quit. He had to admit, it did feel a little good to flex his lower muscles and give them a good swing. Plus, he didn't really mind giving the poor workman a view.

Indeed, Curt's eyes followed it almost hypnotically as it swayed left to right, up and down, package swaying gently beneath. He could feel the growing erection in his pants, but there was nothing he could do; He hated to admit it, but this freak, whoever and whatever he was... Was pretty damn hot. His grip on the broom loosened, but he snatched it back up. Gulping down his fear, he reached out with the broom and prodded the fox's backside.

Ryan yelped in surprise, spinning to face the interloper. The floor was still soaked in warm sweat and jizz, and all of a sudden, his knee slipped out from under him, sending him crashing down. The shockwave rattled the mirrors, causing several racks to fall over, strewing outfits across the room. The fox grunted, rubbing his aching ass, only to groan as the floor's slimy coating rubbed off on his hand. Wiping it off on his tunic, he swore, and glared up at the workman.

"What's wrong with you?" He grumbled, trying to ignore the cum soaking into his furry ass.

For a moment, he was silent, and Ryan glanced up to see what was wrong. Curt's eyes were transfixed, his mouth hanging slightly open as he stared at the fox's mountainous manbreasts. Ryan blushed as he noticed the tent straining against the workman's zipper. He coughed awkwardly, breaking the workman out of his fixation.

"I-I've never seen such big pecs," Curt stammered, "Are they... Real?"

He wasn't sure why he asked that question; It just slipped out. He cursed himself inwardly; That sounded like a line from gay porn! N-not that he watched gay porn... Much. He'd certainly never seen any where guys had tits approaching this size. Just the thought of laying his hands on those boulders of flesh and muscle caused his cock to twitch in his pants. A lump rose in his throat; His muscles were coiled, ready to spring at the slightest provocation...

"I, uh," Caught off guard, Ryan stammered for a moment before his brain caught up to his mouth. Glancing at his chest, he cupped a pec in his hand and gave it an experimental squeeze, shuddering at the unfamiliar density and heft. It was so strange, like it wasn't really a part of his body, yet he could feel the pressure of his fingers, the tight muscle coiled beneath the skin, and... Something else.

"I guess?" He responded, barely looking at the workman as he groped his chest.

The corners of Curt's mouth twitched, then curled into a smile. Taking a step forward, he ran a hand along the curvature of Ryan's pecs, humming at the raw strength contained within. His thumb brushed against a nipple, causing Ryan to squirm. Curt smirked, pinching the tip of the fox's nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Ryan groaned in discomfort, and was about to shove the intruder off when a strange feeling washed over the brutish vulpine.

The feeling seemed to center in his chest, welling up like a rising tide. His pecs felt stranger than normal; Full, like a pair of water balloons reaching their limit, pressing uncomfortably against the wool fabric of his tunic.

"Feels tight," Ryan groaned, rubbing his chest. The surface was harder than before. The muscle was hard, but what little pliancy had been there was gone, like they were full of concrete instead of flesh.

"No doubt," Curt replied, "You're practically bursting out of your clothes!"

"Not... Not that," The fox's voice dropped to a husky whisper, staring at his chest. His pecs, already the size of watermelons, had taken on a strained look; Flesh taut, nipples hard and erect, poking right through the outlaw's roughspun tunic. As the room grew quiet, a low gurgle could be heard over the fox's labored breathing.

Cautiously, Curt reached out and prodded one, but the muscle was completely taut, as if flexed to the utmost limit. It wasn't; There was a wet, bubbling sound, and Ryan's pecs surged outward. Ryan let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a canine howl as they pressed against the fabric of his tunic, causing the seams to creak in protest.

The deep V of his collar creaked, the leather thong slowly slipping from its holes. Then, with a sudden heave of his pecs, the collar ripped down the middle, letting the fox's oversized chest flop free. His nipples remained hidden, just barely, by the taut fabric hooked over the tips. They bulged out like a fleshy shelf, hanging well over the rock wall of his abs; He wobbled in place as his center of gravity shifted forward, but sheer muscular strength kept him upright.

There was a gurgle, louder than before, and Ryan moaned as a pair of dark spots appeared through the surface. His nipples twitched, and the tunic fell away, leaving his chest completely exposed. Thick, white fluid leaked from his pecs, sliding down the curvature of his pecs before dripping to the floor. Curt took a step back as they lurched forward again, growing another few inches before going still. Raising a hand to his chest, Ryan squeezed his nipple, causing a spurt to splatter across the workman's jacket.

Curt cursed, wiping ineffectively at the fluid. He sniffed his hand, taking on a quizzical expression, then cautiously licked it.

"Milk," He muttered, looking up at Ryan's confused face, "It's milk."

"Mil-" Ryan began, only to gasp as Curt took a step forward and pressed his lips against the fox's meaty nip. He moaned as Curt squeezed his breast, forcing a squirt of warm milk into his waiting mouth.

"W-wait," The fox gasped, but Curt didn't respond, simply squeezing his tits and suckling like a hungry animal. Milk dripped down his chin, causing a dark stain to spread across his jacket, but he paid it no mind, too focused on guzzling the fox's delicious cream to care. His stomach gurgled; His lunch break had been spent repairing that damned monorail, making this the first sustenance he'd had since breakfast. He could feel it filling up with each gulp, growing tighter beneath his shirt. Already, he felt like he'd eaten a thanksgiving turkey. It wouldn't be long before he reached his limit.

He grabbed the fox's pillowy pec with both hands, squeezing and milking it like an udder. He could feel the fox's penis beginning to swell, rubbing against his leg as it slowly reached it's full size. Ryan moaned as a trickle of cum leaked out, his mind swimming as feelings of lust began to overpower his reason. He knew he should throw this pervert off, run and find help... But why, when being milked felt so good?

In the corner of his eye, he glanced his old jeans and shirt, now cum-soaked rags in comparison with his enormous body. He barely recognized them - He wouldn't be caught dead wearing such... Concealing rags! He had a body to show off, after all! He bounced his pecs in emphasis, causing Curt to grunt in surprise as the nipple jerked in his mouth.

Curt's lips slipped away from the fox's turgid nipple, leaving it leaking and twitching in the warm air. The workman huffed, patting his stomach, which bulged slightly beneath his denim jumpsuit. Ryan whined as his nipples began to shrink, the milk flow drying up due to lack of stimulation. He needed attention, and he needed it now!

"M-more!" He moaned, but Curt only shook his head and belched, a few drops of milk flying from his mouth.

"I-I should go," He mumbled, scrambling to his feet, "I-I need to get back to work."

"But- But-" Ryan stammered, but Curt didn't turn, marching stiffly to the door. The workman's mind was racing, trying to come up with some sort of excuse to explain his absence. His break wasn't for another hour - Who knows what kind of issues could've arisen? A lump grew in the pit of his stomach, although that might just have been the gallon or so of milk sloshing around in there. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for his keycard, when he heard a wet slap behind him, followed by a thud.

"My butt!" The fox called out.

Curt turned to see the fox on his hands and knees, ass perched high in the air. The fur was damp and matted from sitting on the messy floor, outlining the curvature of his cheeks, each one as big and round as an overripe cantaloupe. Beneath them, the fox's nutsack hung like a pair of softballs, swaying and twitching as his backside rocked back and forth.

"C'mon," Ryan teased, jerking his ass in the air, "You know you want some flank steak!"

It was a rather ridiculous sight, but Curt couldn't take his eyes off it. He took one step forward, then another, letting the keycard fall to the floor, and in a moment, he was right back where he started, staring down at the fox's sweaty crack. He ran a hand along the surface, whistling quietly at the tense muscle rippling just beneath the surface.

He squeezed Ryan's cheeks, eliciting a moan from the horny fox. His cock strained in his pants, and it was only with the greatest restraint that he kept himself from giving in and plowing the fox's tight sluthole. Instead, he savored the moment, watching the muscles shifting across the fox's back. Ryan turned to him, a pleading look in his eyes; Curt smacked his ass, causing him to yelp and nearly jump in shock.

The fox's booty jerked against Curt's legs, knocking him off-balance and causing him to slip on the wet floor. The workman's boots scrabbled against the linoleum, but found no purchase on the wet floor, and he fell to his knees. His firm grip on Ryan's backside was all that kept him from toppling right over; Instead, his head jerked forward, faceplanting between the fox's plump cheeks.

"Huh?" Ryan turned, only to yelp in surprise as Curt's tongue prodded the sensitive flesh of his pucker, "W-what are you doing?"

The maintenance worker wasn't entirely sure; It was like a switch in his brain had been flipped. Guided by nothing but his raging boner, he was determined to sample that intense musk right from the source. Spreading Ryan's fuzzy cheeks, he dove right in. His face poked just over the top of the fox's crack, letting his bushy tail lay across his head.

The fox's pucker was puffy, almost bloated in appearance. His tongue slid along the slick, sweaty surface, which flexed involuntarily at the touch. Ryan let out a moan, his tail squirming as the lusty worker slathered his pucker in saliva. He didn't like this - The rational part of his brain told him so - But it felt too good to stop. His cock throbbed, a dollop of pre splashing to the floor.

Curt moaned into the fox's hole, muffled by the tight seal the muscular cheeks formed around his mouth. He lapped away at the sweaty hole with gusto, his cock aching within his denim jumpsuit - Then, having had enough foreplay, his tongue pressed against the center of the fox's hole. There was slight resistance, but only for a moment before it opened with elastic ease.

"Th-that works too!"

Ryan's eyes rolled back in his head as the stiff tongue penetrated his hole, sliding circles around his inner anus. Sweat poured down his body, soaking through his tunic and dripping down his crack onto Curt's hungry tongue. All too quickly, however, the lusty lover pulled his face away, taking a deep breath of the relatively fresh air - At least, fresher than Ryan's musky ass.

"D-don't stop!" The fox moaned, his voice taking on a high pitched whine. All reluctance had been pushed aside, replaced with a burning desire to make love with a man who was, in essence, a perfect stranger. The voice of reason had turned to a mere whisper in the back of his mind, almost inaudible amidst a swarm of randy thoughts. He didn't just want to fuck, no, he needed to pin this beautiful man down and make him worship his powerful musk.

His balls clenched, cock aching with tension as a steady stream of pre across the floor. With his hands occupied holding himself up, he could do little but squirm and moan, feeling the pressure increase as gallons of boiling seed flowed through the pipes, splashing from his cockhead like an overflowing hose.

Curt obeyed, stuffing his face back between the fox's warm, sweaty cheeks. He reached around the fox's immense thighs, wrapping both hands around his shaft as best he could. The sheer girth of the beast kept his fingers apart, but he was able to give it a good stroke, rocking forward and pressing his lips against the fox's pucker.

Thrusting his hips in time with the human's warm hands, the lust-crazed fox let out a deep, bellowing howl as a rope of precum oozed from his bloated glans, splashing across the underside of his abdomen. Jolts of pleasure ran up his spine, his thoughts drifting apart in a fog of sexual ecstacy. A dull ache rose in the back of his head, but the fox ignored it, focused instead on the rhythmic thrusting and jerking of the handsome workman.

"S-so good!" He moaned as the human's tongue darted across his oily pucker, "S-so bloody g-g-"

The fox let out a yelp as the pain suddenly flared, flooding over his brain like a forest fire. All coherent thought disappeared, lights appearing to pulsate before his bugged-out eyes. His head throbbed, hands flying to his head - Ryan had never suffered a migraine before, but this was exactly how he'd always imagined it.

His mind was on fire, burning away vast swathes of thought and memory. The pain surged as his college education disappeared, knowledge of intricate animation techniques washing away like dust in the wind. In it's place, new thoughts bubbled to the surface - Exercise, fucking - He suddenly remembered how to properly bench a heavy barbell, despite never setting foot in a gym. There was another flare of agony, toward the back of his head, and the contradiction disappeared as memories of extensive bodybuilding flooded to fill the empty gaps in his memory.

The pain began to subside, but before Ryan could gather his thoughts, a wave of pleasure flooded over him. He arched his back, letting out a deep moan - Curt was still back there, licking and stroking his lower bits with the tender thoroughness of a nurse. A shiver ran up his spine as a blob of cum splashed from his dick.

The headache didn't stop, nor did the changes it brought - Art classes were replaced with hours of curls and overhead presses. Memories of old schoolmates faded away, replaced with countless adventures and sexual conquests against the Sheriff of Nottingham, that horny old wolf, and his army of guards, so easily foiled by a mere whiff of the fox's potent musk.

In his half-lucid state, the stimulation became too much. Ryan let out a deep, bellowing howl as he came. His cock throbbed, the urethra bulging out like a furious snake. He felt Curt's hands fall away, his face pulling back from his ass, but he paid it no mind. His dick exploded like a firehose, splattering ropes of hot cum across his abs and mixing with the puddle on the floor.

His eyes rolled back, all pain disappearing as endorphins flooding his system. His arms and legs began to wobble, rock-hard muscles feeling like rubber, and he collapsed in the puddle, sending a small tidal wave of cum across the room. The orgasm continued on for a few moments before subsiding, leaving the mountainous fox laying in a puddle of sticky, off-white indignity.

The fog clinging to his mind faded, and Ryan's thoughts began to flow once more. He rubbed his head, blinking hard to banish the lingering remnants of pain. Slowly, he raised his head, which felt somewhat lighter than before. His limbs felt looser, more fluid as he dragged himself into a sitting position, brushing away a strand of cum clinging to his chest.

Ryan, or what was left of him, hummed as he licked the cum from his fingertips, a wide smile across his bulky face. His hand brushed his nipple, standing at attention atop his balloon-like breast, and he chuckled, giving it a playful pinch and shivering as a jolt of pleasure ran through him. Before he could get too far into it, however, a voice caught his attention.

For a moment, the voice caught him off-guard - It was oddly familiar, like the voice of an old friend, despite their short acquaintance. Vague thoughts of running through the forest, chased by a squadron of angry spearmen drifted through the back of his mind, but the thoughts quickly faded, and he turned to see Curt, laying a few feet away, drenched in sweat and a few errant splatters of cum.

"So, uh," The workman said, wiping ineffectually at the stains now drying across his jumpsuit, "Who are you, anyway?"

"Please, call me Robin," The fox said, flashing a toothy smile. His cock twitched, and a blush spread across the workman's face, as if he hadn't just spent the past fifteen minutes sucking his butthole. Robin chuckled, wrapping a hand around his flaccid shaft and giving it a stroke as it slowly began to inflate once more.

If management could see him now, he would be fired in an instant. But holding down a job was the least of his worries at this point. If nothing else, he could always turn to highway robbery...