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It felt like a baptism. The svelte otter Patterson walked nude on the beach, his long penis swinging freely out of its sheath. He padded alongside the thick, tall, and smooth muscular Lugo, who himself was musky, earthy, and more than a bit ripe wearing a thickly-padded diaper, heavily packed with a sizeable mound of wolf dirt bulging out the back.

Patterson himself, his coat a pleasant swirl of beige and brown and white, was well aware of the extra brown below his waist, gaudy skid marks adhering to his rump cheeks from an afternoon of reckless self-discovery: in the beginning, he'd bemoaned the fact he was working with all of these diaper indulgers at a company that was poisoning the world's moral water supply with filthy excess.

That eventually changed, and in front of his boss and the wolf who'd hired him, a wolf who didn't mind wetting the diaper under his khaki shorts, the otter had urinated on himself in his swim trunks, letting musky piss pour over his thighs and groin and then down into the sand below.

And then, double-or-nothing, when the straight, virgin otter's not-before-marriage, only-for-procreation penis hardened, stretching out the front of his urine-soaked swimwear, Patterson decided to defecate on himself, filling the back of his swimwear with hot, moist, sticky, stinking piles of his stool.

And then, quadruple-or-nothing, Patterson's swim trunks heavy with an enormous, pungent load of scat, he got to his knees and sucked on the penis of a married male who defecated into his diaper and then orgasmed into the otter's mouth, spraying down his face, throat, and chest with reproductive fluid.

Now they were walking side-by-side, the semen drying on the otter's face, feces drying on his rump. The otter's paw shot out and groped the heavy load hanging under the wolf's tail. Lugo stopped and smirked, his ears a little down as the shorter male squished his mess.

"Got a doggie bag; taking it with you?" the otter asked.

Lugo smirked. "Yep. That's me having my cake after eating it."

They laughed and moved on, one naked and one diapered.

Patterson's cock was full, but not erect, simply swinging in front of him. He was almost embarrassed by its size; he fancied that his first walk on the beach should have been translated into a classic Rennaissance painting: romantic and soft, warm colors and soothing, free nudity. His body could be copied into the flesh of marble. But the otter's penis, when soft, looked like a condom filled with water. When hard, it just looked like a joke dildo stamped on the Statue of David.

Fucking huge; only attracted sluts and tourists.

And Lugo kept looking at it: which was fair, Patterson was pleasantly built in a svelte, amateur-swimmer's form, an excellent prospect for any male-oriented sexuality. However, the otter desperately, deliberately, did not want to fall into some slutty sex-spiral. He wanted to make sure that the gifts he was handing out; his love, his intelligence, his physique, his ... organ; were going to people that would appreciate them, and not just toss them in some hoarder's pile of incontinent, anonymous lust.

Notches on the bed posts. All in all, just another dick in the gloryhole wall.

Pat found his paw going out again, his penis twitching in free air, and Lugo turned his hips to offer his packed rear-end. Patterson grabbed Lugo's paw instead, his webbed fingers catching on the wolf's separated ones. The wolf blushed and looked down at the otter, stopping in his tracks. They'd made it close to the springs, but now couldn't take one step further.

The otter turned to the wolf, who turned back to him. Their free paws found each other, squeezing, and then Patterson inclined his head as Lugo lowered his. Their lips met, and then their bodies pressed together. Paws went to each other's backs as tongues went into each other's mouths. Patterson stood on tip-toe and pressed his chest against Lugo's thick pectorals. He felt his cock grow and he ground it against Lugo's diaper, which through its soaked thickness was rising on its own. He humped against Lugo's diaper, licking against the wolf's tongue, moving his paws down to the back and encircling Lugo's tail, stroking that strong appendage which had previously risen as he deposited that nasty load at the same time he was fucking Patterson's mouth.

It had seemed to give his thrusts more heft, a pendulum of poo helping him drive that cock deeper and deeper in the otter's tight, man-thirsty throat.

Lugo reached down and encircled his paw around Patterson's thick shaft, setting the otter into an automatic humping motion as he licked the otter's lips, then teased the tip of his tongue. The otter groped and grasped at the heavy load, then broke the kiss to spit on his paw--Lugo's spit and his spit--then lube up his cock, which he humped against that tented diaper.

Patterson's heart beat and his head floated as his shaft pulsed and leaked, thrusting against the soaked padded front. Lugo dove in deeper, licking the otter's nose before circling his own paws around back, squeezing the otter's mess-sodden rump cheeks. Patterson gasped as a digit stroked his entrance, then wasted no time in sliding inside. Poop out, finger in.

He pushed against Lugo's chest, a being heavier and larger than him in ... almost ... every aspect. The wolf nodded, panting, then looked back for a clearing in their palm tree, coastline forestwhich whispered with a refreshing cool wind. He laid on his back, and the otter dove forward, pulling the front of the wolf's diaper down. Patterson spat again as he climbed on top of the wolf, then took his wet paw and reached behind him, under his tail, slicking up his muddy anus.

Patterson relaxed, already gasping as his ring tightened in anticipation. "What the fuck am I doing," he whispered to himself, but then he looked down at the supine lupine and all confusion was lost in the wake of a pure, solid desire. An imperative.

His paw came up dirty and slick, and this Patterson wiped on his thigh before spitting on it again. Lugo assisted, slicking up the great pink protrusion jutting out above his diaper, its two thick golf-ball bulbs of its knot hard and the tip already drooling.

The otter lowered himself down on this, taking in a sharp breath as the tapered edge prodded against his ring, his exit, that valve for solid waste. Now it had a new purpose, if just a jury-rigged one: he had to make love to this wolf.

"You ever done this--" Lugo started, holding Patterson's hips up, feeling the twitch of his own rump as his load cooled against him. The boy was tight, very tight, as if he could fight so hard against laxatives he'd end up pooing through his mouth.

"Shut up," hissed the otter, who gasped just as the tip pushed against the sealed hole of his anus, wedging it millimeters open. Through his head he ran calculations. He'd taken dumps bigger, longer, bumpier than this cock. He remembered thick, winding, wrinkled stinkers teasing his prostate and ass as they spread him open and slithered round and round the bowl, causing him to pop boners on the toilet and piss all over himself. He knew he could open up, and he knew his rectum could contain all of it. It would work in reverse; it would work in--

"Fuck!" Patterson squeaked as his ring budged a centimeter open and then clenched. There was definitely a male's erect penis a full two centimeters inside his meters-long bowels. This was working. It had to work, God damn it.

Patterson opened his eyes, looking down at the gorgeous wolf, this male that had rescued him from the brink of isolation. Pat could take a measly nine, ten inches of cock. He loved Lugo: he'd take him all in, were it physically possible!

"Patterson, are you sure?" Lugo whispered.

The otter snarled, his lithe body heaving as waves of pleasure and confusion--not pain, but like an allergy--shot from his rectum to all parts of his body. There was a foreign body inside; what to do?!

"Would you stand before the gates of Valhalla and say, 'Nah, I'll pass? That banquet hall doesn't have vegan options?'" he demanded.

Lugo's brow creased. "Buddy, I ..." he said, then saw the look in Patterson's eyes. It was the same he'd seen in Kioga's. It wasn't clouded lust like some drug-addled, fishnet-and-diaper raver trying not to puke through the gloryhole, but a naked, absolute desire so potent, so perfectly distilled to its core elements that it was sapient, spiritual need. "Take it slow," Lugo said, then slipped his wedding ring off and tucked it down the front of his diaper.

The otter; virgin, inexperienced, but intelligent, aware; moved forward. He visualized the cock inside him. He would stretch, he would relax; it would fit. It was built for heavy shit and his first reverse-shit would be with an industrial-grade pup injector. Fine. The meek would inherit the Earth, sure, but only sloppy, cum-dripping, gaped-out remains after the courageous were done with it: this kind of lovemaking was for the bold, the brave, the desirous, those who saw glory and knew how to take it.

He wouldn't take scraps.

"Shhhhh, fuck, fuck," Patterson hissed as his legs trembled, the funk of his filth-smeared rump teased his nose, and an inch of Lugo's lupine cock spread his pucker and entered him.

There was a lot of glory to take.

"Are you okay?"

"The default condition of life is not to be wounded, weak, and sniveling! If you expected anal sex to fail, why do gay people continue to tryaaah..." Patterson took a breath, his own cock hard, leaking, pulsing. His body was going mad as its end-sphincter clenched around an object coming into it. "...continue to try it?"

Lugo chuckled, watching this mad young male, hugely hung and drooling precum from that bouncing monster, his ass smeared in shit, went on his tirades. "You're something else, bro. Bitching about homosexuality while driving yourself down on a diaper-musky dick."

Patterson's cock jumped and spurted and his ring clenched as he heard those kinky, naughty words, deeply groaning as the skin dragged across the slimy shaft keeping it stretched. "Don't make this any hotter than it has to be."

"You could be in a diaper, too."

"Oh God," the otter groaned, and his cock began to buzz as it teased its climax. It was the breakthrough he needed, and as he imagined himself in his own soaked little speedo, wrapped up in piss as he was wrapped up in fuck, Patterson felt his bowels and his asshole unclench and take in that whole cock, the same way it let out giant, curling, coiling, salty, savory, stinking seafood shits after a salmon and shellfish buffet. "Gimme, gimme, gimme; ah Lugo fuck yes!"

The wolf sucked in breath, feeling his own ass twitch against its mess in his lumpy diaper as that smooth, spit-and-shit-slicked passage slid around his cock; the shaft protruding from his hips sensitive, long, and tight. Every square inch of his malehood buzzed in loud, blinding, toe-clenching pleasure as the otter took it all in, his dirty tunnel assuredly sliming Lugo's cock in shit. Pat was tight, he was so fucking tight, and he stank like an old seafood market.

Lugo loved under all circumstances: he loved his man even after he'd taken a giant dump, especially after he'd taken a giant dump, because he'd emptied it all out just for him.

Patterson hilted himself against Lugo's hips, leaving two sticky brown prints on the front of his diaper as he squeaked, eyes rolling into his head as the tapered tip poked against his bowel's first bend and the topside of its girth rolled against his prostate. His massive cock jumped and squirted, tossing crystal clear, shimmering sticky lines across Lugo's stomach and chest.

This was one of Lugo's favorite sex positions: Lugo loved the sight of a splayed male facing him, where his thighs were up and out of the way, and his stomach, chest, and face were on clear display--the otter's cream-brown latte art coat was absolutely gorgeous--and his bottom erogenous zones, the tailhole, the balls, and the penis, were all there. Lugo saw the male completely, and loved him as such.

Patterson's testes were cutely cradled against his body in a cozy sac, pleasantly plump as medium plums but nothing in comparison to the hefty organ bobbing between his legs. It was almost comical, being nearly the same size as Lugo's own, though with a round glans tip and a tan, slightly lavender hue. Lugo found it appropriate that a personality as big as Patterson's would manifest itself in that bouncing flesh shaft.

The otter wasn't compensating for anything: he was counter-balancing.

"God, Lugo, I love your fucking dick; I could holster it all day," the otter growled, spearing himself on that cock, his brown-smeared ring stretched wide and gripping, pulsing. He rubbed the low part of his abdomen; Lugo realized he was searching for the tip embedded in his canal. "Just a couple of messy, musky, males, slinging that dick ..."

The wolf bit his lip, his dick throbbing in Pat's hot slimy confines, his heart thumping as every twist and turn squeezed more pre out of him and into the male grinding on him, his big dick bobbing. "Love yours too, you hung bitch."

Patterson reached behind him and groped Lugo's swollen, lumpy diaper rump. Every word the otter said vibrated his body, and the wolf bit his lip. All but the knot of his malehood was surrounded and clenched in pulsing, slick, melted chocolate warmth. If this boy went crazy, Patterson would have Lugo on a chain leash in the basement, or some secluded backyard, fed on a constant diet of extra fiber dog kibble, pineapple, and Viagra.

"As adults, we hold it all in during the day so we can let it all out at night," the otter groaned, gyrating on that long cock. "Mmm, and push it out, long coiling loads into our diapers, our underwear, or on the floor." He'd become a master in minutes, pulling out, his ring dragging against the sensitive maleness, Lugo's fat pink flesh coming out looking like an obscene, smooth dump, then slid it all back in. The otter reached back again, and Lugo heard a crinkle as the otter reached down into the wolf's diaper, down past his balls, and into that mound of stored scat.

Lugo blushed, ears burning, as the power bottom became a sodomite sovereign. Having the otter dig through his own muck while having his cock arrested in a tight, smooth tunnel he never wanted to leave, demanded the wolf's full compliance at cock-point. He didn't even notice that Patterson's anus had slipped over his knot until the otter's every move became his own.

Lugo threw his paws behind his head, helpless and ecstatic as his humping became automatic, the otter controlling everything, with his giant cock bouncing between his thighs like a marching baton. The wolf put his tongue in his teeth and pressed; his cock was pouring pre like urine and he felt he could cum all the way to Patterson's small intestine.

"You're a messy boy, aren't you?" hissed the otter, massaging the filthy clay. Lugo's diaper crinkled and his load squished. The wolf drew sharp, tight breaths as a finger slipped into his entrance and hooked around the ring. "Making big boom-booms for other males to chase, sniffing that heavy, filthy butt..."

Lugo bit harder as the finger slipped in and out of his asshole. His toes flexed and his calves ached; a simple breeze would set him off.

Then Patterson moved an inch in the wrong direction and gasped. The otter's mud-covered hand shot out of the diaper and groped just above his cock, where his bladder was. Patterson tried to reposition himself, but his yelp turned into a sigh and hot, musky, clear-yellow fluid poured from the tip, showering his submissive down, splattering all over his chest and stomach, trickling down to the ground below.

The otter grinned and wiped his filthy paw on his stomach and chuckled as piss rained down on Lugo, who caught it in his mouth and lapped it up. "Yeah, guess there wasn't room for both your cock and my piss. How's it taste?"

Lugo spat a stream back up, hitting Patterson in the chest. "How about we go back to those dirty butts, and how I'm fucking yours right now?"

The otter smirked, light from the palm trees raining over his musky, sweaty body, a prominent shit smear of beefy wolf scat across his stomach. "Don't make this any hotter than it has to be."

"I shoulda had five orgasms already," Lugo growled, getting up to his paws, then picked the otter up and laying him down in the sand, his free, pissing cock tapering off, splashing the last of its savory, acrid fluid on both of them. The wolf's diaper sagged between his legs, the filthy, sticky contents disturbed and mixed around by the otter's intrusive megalomania. "I'll make my second one count."

The otter chirped as Lugo spread his legs and slowly extracted his knot, untying them so he could fuck Patterson's ass until it felt unnatural for them to be more than nine inches apart. He'd fuck this bitch until was farting cum into his speedo or diaper, until this lusty, sharp, brash, and sexy male was just a collared, naked pet at the foot of his and Kioga's bed, or even better a conduit: Lugo tied in Patterson's ass, Patterson thrust through a hole in the cheetah's diaper and balls deep in Lugo's husband.

Lugo's ears twitched. Those last two thoughts were strange ones.

"Gimme that dirty ass, you hot sack of shit and cum," growled the wolf, then he blustered over the otter and rammed himself deep, rapidly, repeatedly, lustily with his heavy, large, piss-wet balls smacking against Patterson's slick tailbase and his saggy loaded diaper slapping against Patterson's tail. His hips, clapping against the otter's firm ass, were soon smeared brown and the two repeatedly came apart in sticky, stinking swirls of shit.

The otter's hole was a sex tunnel, but it was also a port for the filthiest of functions; Lugo remembered watching Patterson load up the back of his swim trunks like he was gaining ten pounds right back there. Now it was all over both of them: what had come out as thick logs was now turned to putrid paste.

The otter lost his coherent voice, and could only talk in guttural groans as that heavy cock drove deep into him, as those dominant, musky, scat-smeared balls whacked against his gay asshole, as that thick, messy diaper dragged over and over his strong, rudder tail; as his own cock, long and drooling, kept thrusting toward his face, its slit pulsing again and again, precum whipping against his whiskers, until finally the wolf pushed deep, slipped past his anus, and a rush of hot liquid filled Patterson's bowels.

"Oh God, fuck," Lugo groaned, his own asshole winking within its confines as his cock lurched and spewed sperm into its slick, slimy sanctuary.

Lugo held Patterson's rear in the air as cum gushed into the otter; spurting, splattering, pulsing jets filling his rectum and soaking every surface on the way up, coating it thick. As the wolf loomed over him, as his cock pulsed against every surface inside the otter's passage, Patterson got one final look at the cock aimed right at him before the tip opened one more time and vomited white, sticky liquid all over his face and chest, every lurch throwing more of his own cum up onto him, flooding his nostrils, slapping against his lips, pooling on his chest and running in sticky, long strands to his shoulders and down to his stomach. Lugo grabbed that lurching, spitting cock and pointed it up at himself, getting a few thick, ropey jets slapping against his muzzle and carved chest, his tongue out and lapping at Patterson's seed like water from a garden hose.

The pungent, pasty musk of otter cum hung in the air, slowly mixing with the old, fecal funk of two thoroughly filthy males. Patterson needed a wet wipe the size of a Queen-size duvet.

"Oh fuck ..." Pat sighed, holding his stomach, unsure where the cock ended and the flood of semen began. Lugo lay below him, panting, glazed from stomach to eyebrow.

Lugo flexed his back, growling in pleasure as a few vertebra popped. Muck clung to his rear end; it was one of the longest times he'd worn a messy diaper. He was almost used to the stink, the way it both hung from his rump and had several sticky layers caked on tight, prodding at his tailhole. But he wasn't that used to it. Now he had an otter attached to his hips, long sensuous cock hanging between thighs only slightly thicker ... a beautiful cream-brown-swirled coat with dark mocha frosting caked on his rump cheeks.

Invariably, the two found each others' paws and interlocked them. "First time?" said the wolf, looking up at the otter with a warm smile.

The otter squeezed back, squeaking and smiling. "Yeah, first time," he whispered. "I love you."

Lugo's heart skipped, but he kept his smirk calm. "That's great. Love you too, bud."

Patterson lunged and leaned up to kiss Lugo, but he was stopped by the massive cock buried in his ass, keeping him straight up. "Ow, ow," he whispered.

Lugo chuckled. "This is probably the longest time your asshole's been dilated. How 'bout we take a calm, steady bath?"

The otter frowned, cringing as shocks of pain shot up from that sensitive spot. "You don't have to use such rough language. Maybe I want to be locked around you for a little while."

"Nope," said the wolf, and expertly extracted his knot as if pulling a key from a keyhole. Patterson didn't know it was out until it was absent, and a sudden rush of liquid rumbled toward his exit. He clenched at the last second, ears burning and penis twitching at how pointedly full his rectum was ... and how the first fart would turn into a flood.

He stumbled to his knees as the wolf slipped out from under him. Just like that, just like that: guess the fuck was over. Guess the wolf had his jollies, Patterson thought as Lugo stood, pulling that diaper up around his hips, filthy within and filthy without, the otter's messy butt-prints around the front.

"You're not using me, are you?" the otter suddenly said.

Lugo paused. "Pumpkin," he said, offering his paw. The otter swatted it away. Lugo slapped him and offered his paw again. Patterson took it, blushing as his rectum sloshed. "Pumpkin," he said, interlocking paws with the otter. As they pressed together, Patterson's cum tried to stick to Patterson, but his coat didn't take. "We should take this slow."

The otter frowned, baring his teeth. "If we're sure of it, then hesitation is just choosing a small death in the interim. The meek will inherit the strong's table scraps. We've already made love; that's my ... everything all over you," he said, squeezing Lugo's. The wolf squeezed back, hard enough that the otter squeaked.

"You need to slow your roll, buckaroo," the wolf growled. "In fact, I want my cum back."

Patterson felt his bowels clench, but he clenched back. "You're only getting your cum back if I'm farting it all over your face."

"I'll suck you dry like a tube of go-gurt, boy."

"You could just love me."

"That plot of land's taken," said the wolf, but before he could reach into his diaper, the otter had darted in and come back out, and now was spinning a gold band between his webbed fingers. The wolf's fur bristled and he squeezed down on the otter's other paw. "Give that back."

The otter met his glare, muzzle twitching as his hand buckled, the bones shivering. "That plot's taken? You should have never let me on the reservation," he squeaked, "Now, the strongest of wills gets the world. This land is my land, mother fucker."

With that, the otter slapped his free paw against his muzzle, swallowing Lugo's wedding ring.

The wolf gasped and his diaper fell between his knees, slapping heavily with a mound of mess in the back. "I'm going to kill you!" he said, then stepped out of the soiled garment and wrapped his paws around Patterson's throat.

The otter met the wolf's stare as he was choked, and his rear end unclenched. Though he was literally evacuating his bowels as he stood, semen and traces of feces squirting from his tailhole in a grotesque, wet, ketchup-bottle fart noise and splattering down his tail, his thighs, and onto the sand behind him, he did not budge. Instead, as bile rose in his throat, so did the wedding band. It went up under Lugo's thumbs, and then Patterson swallowed it again.

"You lose," said the otter, then let the wolf set him back down on his footpaws, right in the pile of brown-tinged semen he'd let out. The otter folded his arms, holding back tears as the wolf gathered up his messy diaper and padded off.

The wolf paused at the edge of the clearing, none of the trees rustling. He took a slow breath, then looked back. "See you for the afternoon shoot?"

"I'm taking the rest of the day off."

The nude wolf leaned against the trunk of a palm tree. Patterson tried not to trace his enormous form, the way muscles glided under his thick coat, something marvelous temporarily turned destructive.

The otter opened his mouth to speak, but Lugo said over his shoulder, "You're not quitting, are you?"

Patterson closed up. "Not on your life."

The wolf nodded, then walked off. "I'll grab some interns. We can't replace you, but we'll make do."

"Story of my life," said Pat.

~~~

When Lugo left, the otter covered his face and wept, making his way toward the spring. He shouldered through the tears and the heaviness, away from his first love, from his first moment of intimacy, from the man he wanted to give everything to, give everything up ...

He deflated, feeling much worse about the semen streaking his thighs than he did about the muck caked on his rump. "The final disappointment into adulthood, eh?" He stared down at his penis, hanging limp and long. Just some long fucking tube of meat.

Aside from temporary, pheromone-drunken distractions, it was useless, useless.

The stream's gentle babbling caught his ears soon enough, and he softly moaned as he raised his head to a beautiful clear oasis trickling out to the sea, the leafy trees around this secret little glen shimmering lights and leaf shadows with a refreshing, breezy hiss.

Along the shore was a seemingly abandoned diaper bag, a large vinyl case with a few precious, white squares sticking out the top, which also contained a zippered side-container which was marked "Ice-Cold Tech" along the side.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he told himself, sniffling. Tears ran over his waterproof fur too easily, running down his nipples, stomach, and legs in no time. "I'm ... destroyed, but the corpse still moves. Fuck me."

He took a deep breath and concentrated on the task ahead.

Patterson checked the flow on the stream: it issued out to the ocean at the same healthy rate as it came in. He wouldn't be standing in a toilet bowl of his own leavings, which at this point were two hours past due for their elimination. People of the old days, and the animals they were cosmically fashioned after, squat with their haunches out and their tail up so they could eliminate, get rid of, banish that which they had long ceased to need. Those mesh-lined swim trunks had prevented that.

It still clung to his cheeks alongside a distinct blast zone. His first ever fuck, homosexual and hot, had ended in romantic disintegration. All the dignity he poured into Lugo, and poured all over him as well, which was thusly returned by a thick, viscous, delicious ejaculation right up his bowels, had all splattered out of him like a toothpaste tube under a steamroller.

"Life is a series of initial disappointments," Pat said to himself, rifling through the diap bag on the shore. He popped open a bottle of Budweiser from the side while rifling through powder and wipes, then chugged it down while scrounging. Cool, they left soap. "A series of pitfalls, then digging yourself out and filling the hole to build the beauty you expected in the first place. You will always, always skin your knee and chip your fang before you run and leap with the wild stallions."

It felt like a baptism. The otter waded into the cool water, mutely aware of its temperature through his thick, luscious coat. He cupped water into his webbed paws and poured it over him, sighing as it trickled over his fur, carrying with it all the sweat, toil, and toilet from the day. Once he got past his waist, he pushed the muck from his buttocks and pushed the emergent brown cloud toward the exit. He shook off his penis a few times, then gave one final push, one long squirt of remnant wolf spunk inside him. This vanished in a puff of white, trailing out to sea.

"The only problem is pair-bonding," he said to himself, lathering up and idly working from the face on down. "That in my head, engraved is this memory. Forever will I be mated to Lugo, because I have mated with Lugo. I have known him. And will never forget him. Good job, you fucking genius," said Pat, scrubbing his rump and scraping a large clump of crap from behind his balls, "I decided that my first should be with a married, diaper-paraphilic sodomite. Nothing against homosexuality; I'll marry a male if he's as ... pretty good ... as me ... but one wonders how many cocks and anuses, and fecal bacteria, have been in, around, and on that wolf. A man's mind shatters with every person he gives himself to, ultimately to fall into sexual dementia."

The otter grumbled, then inclined his paw as he felt his bladder relax, then a warm stream issue out his long cock into the stream. "It's my fault. It's like drunk driving and killing a pedestrian. I knew the risks and still I drove. I pulled the trigger on a defective pistol. No wonder it exploded in my paws. But ... he saw past all my anger. But who wouldn't if you're just a bargain-basement whore. It's easy to fake sympathy for a big-dicked otter if you get his ass at the end of it," he said, feeling another trickle of tears come on, "Free candy for the kiddies."

"Man, you stepped right into it," came a male voice.

"No he didn't; it was wrapped up tight in Lugo's diaper!" responded a female voice.

"That diaper's not so tight after the trouble he gets in, then it airs his problems all over the room!"

"Oh what the fuck," whispered Patterson, too exhausted, pissed, sad, and confused to cover himself up. These people could appreciate his nudity, his slender form, flat chest, rounded rump; they could understand him as a destitute person who's dropped everything to reorganized all the pieces; they could lust after him and he could spit at them and trot off.

"Mind if we join you?" asked the female, and she was out of the forest, alongside the male, before Patterson could correctly tune his ears to their direction. The stream's babbling had mixed with their own.

It was the cobra and the rabbit, and they had fitted themselves with brand-new swim briefs and bikinis; ones that, as far as Pat could tell, didn't have extra padding.

Patterson crossed his arms, letting his cock hang in the crystal-clear depths. "I'm really afraid of fraternizing with you people."

The rabbit elbowed the cobra, smirking. Her coat was a beautiful crystal chandelier white. Her breasts were big, hanging perky and plump in a blue bikini and her hips were firm, holding between them a strap of fabric and a softer secret. Her brown, polished-oak eyes shone with life. "He used the 'you people' line. No hope for us now."

The cobra shrugged, a confident, placid smile on his brass-yellow scaly face. He had green-slitted eyes, difficult for a mammal to read (aside from a cat), but his posture was just as solid as his demeanor: he had a confident, trim and athletically-chipped frame. He could be a contender for semi-pro soccer and volleyball, not-so for wrestling or anything Lugo-related. Patterson found it briefly strange that the cobra lacked nipples, then remembered his biology lessons, then forgot them all again when his eyes drifted down to the fist-sized mound rounding out the front of the cobra's speedos.

Patterson blushed and looked away, tracing down the tail, noting it was thicker than even his own rudder tail. It had an attractive pattern of individual zig-zags, almost like lightning bolts that went all the way up to the snake's hood, which was fanned out like a glorious shock of frozen blonde-bronze hair.

They were both excellently handsome, and Patterson was just ... ottery. He had a little fat, a little thin, and currently was feeling like he was wearing his coffee-art beige-white-brown coat as if it was someone else's. Someone richer and better.

Someone who wasn't an internet troll taking bites out of everyone's neck.

"Ah, 'you people,'" said the cobra, "to let the severe, reprehensible actions of the minority define the leitmotif of the majority."

"Exactly!" chirped the otter, clapping his webbed paws, splashing and slapping. "To be able to separate between the mistakes of a scant few and the majority! Or!" he said, moving through the water, his penis tapping against his thigh, "To separate a negative overarching culture and the actions of individuals who may technically fit in that culture, but make much better decisions."

The cobra relaxed. The rabbit's eyes rolled back as she thought, then she nodded.

"That's good," Patterson said, smiling, splishing the surface of the spring, "Because I have to be honest about you people."

Clark the cobra smiled, his fangs hanging over his bottom lip. "Keep on going, Mr. Peters. You're very entertaining."

"He's an asshole," said the rabbit, leaning against the speedo-male's shoulder.

Clark smirked. "But you like him, don't you?"

The rabbit grinned, pushing her breasts against his arm, the two plump, bikini-wrapped mounds falling on either side of his bicep. "Of course I do. He gets what he wants ... he's just trying to figure out what he wants," she said.

The otter frowned, feeling that they were toying with him. Even that bunny was seeming like a predator.

"Simply put," said Patterson, "my hesitation with 'you people,' as designated by your clear and voluntary association to Ferris-Chalmpers, it's that the promiscuity leads to duplicity: the breaking of social contracts."

The cobra's jaw budged a little bit, showing his slitted tongue. The bunny stood straight and still. "We do have a smartie," she said.

"I say I love Lugo, which is a very logical conclusion after such an intimate moment. Body, mind, and soul: I put it all towards him, and I let a hell of a lot out," he said with a blush, feeling a front weight grow from his hips. "The bastard's changed my diaper and he's had my seed all over him. And like a thief in the night, now every time he passes by, he can smirk, knowing he's taken all the good stuff."

"All the good stuff?" asked the bunny, tapping her head. Her hips moved from side to side, round and wide, her rump almost completely exposed by the bikini.

"Do you have to love everyone you fuck?" asked Clark.

Patterson's lips pursed and his jaw hardened. "You know, it's kind of hard to go all-out physically if you don't do it emotionally as well. And no, I'm not going to accept any arguments for casual fucks. If an act of intimacy becomes as bland and rote as a fast food cheeseburger, then the furry world is fucked."

The cobra's voice was smooth and pleasantly deep. He chuckled and the bunny pushed herself closer to him. "You hold things very precious. It's a rough world out there; tough to avoid chips and scratches."

"You know, Clark and I sometimes grab a partner or two. Someone we like, even to a light extent. It's another person to pleasure and thrill; you form a connection right when they're bucking in your paws, juices spraying out of them ..." she said, stroking the cobra's stomach. "Or sometimes they freeze up while on top of you, and you see their tail raise up, so you put your paws on their rump cheeks and help them relax."

The cobra gave a low, humming sigh of pleasure.

She continued, "there's something so intimate when their eyes go wide, and they try to make eye contact with you while pushing a load onto their thighs."

Patterson felt his pucker twitch at this. "I understand, that's ... very hot ... but I'm seeing such a slippery slope. Love can't be shared like a bong, wet lip prints all over the tip while the load burns out. It's ... got to be given. Kept! An agreement. A possession, you wake up in the middle of the night and your partner is just a snuggle, or just a text message away. Never rented, never pawned, never ..." he rested his paw against his stomach, Lugo's ring floating inside among chewed-up sushi. "Never 'borrowed.'

The rabbit entered the water, wading up to him. She didn't pay attention to the tan ten-incher floating beneath the surface, the otter's penis having grown as his tension relaxed, moving from defensiveness down to desire. The voluptuous rabbit walked up beside him, and he could feel her warmth; he bit his lip as, inevitably, her breasts brushed against his shoulder. Her scent was of sun-blocking fur conditioner; on her breath was tropical punch.

His mind flashed back to a few hours ago, her pleasantly teasing him while wearing a padded bikini, enlarged from a wetting, or later in the day, when she peeled off to the side of the court, squat down, and loaded the back up with fresh rabbit dung.

This contrasted to the now, where her beautiful, paper-white form was just a couple of straps away from complete nudity, and contrary to his bitterness-turned-incel theories, she was talking to him like an intelligent being, not throwing her tits and twerking her ass all over his cock like a complete slut. All the Stacies and their big muscular Chads with their pointy ears and fluffy tails, not Virgin Patterson with his flat chest, small round ears and fat, tentacle-shaped tail.

"You know, Clark and I have been discussing our relationship for some time," she started, but Patterson put up his paws. Clark the cobra stood at the lip of the spring, scaly hand on his Speedo hip, handsome and well-built, strong shoulders, firm stomach, and a round, but not diaper or porn-sized male bulge.

Big cocks lead to big THOTs.

"Look, I've already been chewed up, swallowed, and defecated out by one horny sex predator. My virginity was taken as easy as a dollar cheeseburger."

Clark nodded, his slitted eyes looking to Susan, then back to Pat. "The director's got his issues. People say that 'trust' is the valuable asset that, once broken, is the most critical thing to repair in a relationship, but it's a layer deeper than trust, just one."

The golden cobra bent down, hooking his thumbs around the waistband of his speedo and pulled down, letting a long, slender, yellow unerect penis fall out, nestled contently on top of two soft testicles.

The rabbit to the side of Pat moved as well, slipping off her bikini bottoms, revealing a tender white slit. She kept her green top on, and her nipples grew hard beneath it. "We're really doing this, Clark?"

"He's a good boy and he's only going to get worse if hanging around that crew," said the cobra, his genitals swaying before his thighs as he stepped into the water. Patterson shivered as his erection grew to its full ten inches, absolutely huge, and crested the surface of the spring like the forehead of a pink dolphin.

"Clark, we're not doing this for pity's sake, are we?" she asked, folding her arms behind her.

His first female vagina: it looked fantastic, even though he was just seeing the little cleft.

"Of course not, Susan," the naked cobra said as he waded toward the otter, his own length growing from him as he walked, "We're taking him off the market before some hooligan wrecks him."

"Guys, are you sure?" asked the otter, his ears growing warm as the male leaned against him and began to tease the inside of his ear with his forked tongue. The busty, bottomless rabbit grabbed his flat chest, stroking around the nipple. "So what is it, if not trust?"

"You can trust a car all you like, no matter how many times it breaks down," said Clark, moving his hand down and squeezing Pat's penis. "But if the elements inside the car aren't changed, it'll keep disappointing you."

Susan kissed the otter's cheek, then slipped her other paw beneath the surface. The otter sucked in as he felt a soft finger stroking against his tailhole. "Lugo has a lot of maintenance issues. I haven't seen Kioga, but that's the sad rumor about him, as well."

Patterson's thoughts went hazy as the bunny massaged his anus and the cobra stroked his cock. He looked down and there lay both of their juicy bits, the cobra with an attractive, slender erection and a beautiful white slit for the bunny, hiding soft pink lips the cobra had been wiping with a disposable cloth earlier.

"Okay, so it's not trust, but inner reliability that keeps a relationship strong," the otter huffed, his cock slit going warm as it squirted pre into the spring, cool reptile hands stroking along its firm skin, sending waves of pleasure up into his brain, making his toes curl in the deep, making the organ stay hard, "Trust is your ability to see the quality of your partner, good or bad. And, uh, oh shit," Patterson hissed, his hips rocking as Susan's finger circled his ring, rubbing the folds of his wrinkled pucker, "Trustiness is the charge to maintain your own quality."

The cold-blooded reptile and the mammal's muzzles pressed against either of Patterson's cheeks, then sneaked forward toward his lips. Susan's warm breath tickled his whiskers as she said, "Treat your yourself right and your partner will treat you right back." The rabbit and cobra both kissed the otter on the lips, lips stroking against each other until a warm, round tongue and a cold forked one both entered Pat's mouth.

"Ungh," the otter groaned, and then both were on top of him, pushing him to the bank of the spring. Susan pushed a finger into his anus, and Clark held his paw steady around the shaft as Pat started thrusting into the makeshift hole. The bunny grabbed one of Pat's paws and brought it to Clark's cock, then grabbed the other one and brought it between her legs to the first pussy the otter had ever touched.

One hard cock, one set of soft folds. A bisexual dream right in his paws. Patterson was already breathing quickly, feeling he'd be spraying in just a few moments. And seeing how these kinksters operated, he wouldn't mind another release or two as well.

He'd love to piss his pants, shit and cum.

Tongues, lips, gasps, and sighs radiated throughout as the three leaned into each other, kissing and licking as Patterson stroked them both as best he could, trying to coordinate the back-forward of stroking another man while gently feeling himself around a woman's labia. It was the most erotic, strangest game of rub-the-tummy-pat-the-head he'd ever played, and he loved it.

His thumb found a soft, smooth hood at the front of Susan's crotch. It was definitely sensitive, because every seemingly correct movement made the bunny twitch, made those squishy globes on her chest heave. He moved his thumb further to the top, where he found a small nub only a little bigger than a laptop's center mouse.

Susan jolted, so Pat kept his thumb there, delicately stroking as his other fingers moved along the lips. A finger each spread them, then carefully, very carefully, the otter pushed his middle finger into the hole between them. The bunny moaned into the otter's mouth, and Pat licked at her tongue, cock pistoning into Clark's hand while she curled that finger inside his ass.

The cobra moved to the front, so Susan moved off to the side. Keeping a paw on Patterson's wrist to keep him finger deep inside her, clutching her crotch, she sat on the bank and spread her legs. Her breasts fell in a heavy, voluptuous bounce as she removed her top, and she let her ears fall back, watching Clark gather up both cocks in his paw and stroke them together, against each other, as he continued to tonguekiss the otter. A slitted tongue against his own round one felt so strange.

Susan responded by taking her other paw and pushing a finger up inside the cobra, which produced an immediate groan and a thrust of Clark's body against Pat's, his cock readily squirting pre all over the otter's stomach.

"Shit," gasped Pat, feeling himself grow close, wanting to lacquer down the hot cobra and his sexy rabbit with loads of crotchpaint,"how are we gonna do this...?"

"The relationship or the fucking?" asked Susan, rocking her hips as Pat's paw continued to stroke and finger her pussy, the whole area gone wet. The way her tunnel clamped down on his finger woke deep rutting instincts within the otter: he should pump her full of puppy paste and let the cobra lick his mate out.

"It's the same," said Clark, then led the two of them out of the water to a patch of grass just alongside. The spot was perfectly shaded, but not so overgrown as to hide the South Carolina coastline, the water whispering against a sandy shore. He pointed to Patterson then snapped his fingers, pointing at the ground.

Pat lay down on his back, and then Susan crawled on top of him. The bunny's heavy breasts wobbled as her curvy white form moved over him, and then Patterson groaned low, deep, as he realized what was happening. Pre fountained out of his cock, trickling down his length and onto on his stomach, and Susan giggled. She grabbed his paws and put them up against her chest, letting him feel their warm, soft heft, the two fat nipples poking into his paws' palms.

"Just us three," said the cobra, then slipped in between Patterson's arms, under Susan, and suddenly the otter had a snake sitting on his chest as he massaged his mate's tits behind his back. "And I'm fine with two males, because you have a huge penis, and I'm not insane."

Patterson and Susan both laughed, and Clark chuckled, comfortably sitting on Pat with his penis laying up towards the otter's chin, resting in the dip in the middle of his collarbone. Then Pat's stomach rumbled, and the cobra smirked, his tongue flicking out.

"Now, I hope you don't mind, but I'm guessing you don't, seeing as you sucked off Lugo while having an enormous crap in your shorts."

"I was impressed," said Susan, holding Patterson's cock against the front of her pubic mound, fingers tracing up and down its rigid heft. "I didn't know the entire large intestine could function as a rectum."

Clark chuckled, and as he rose toward Patterson, the otter dutifully put his penis in his mouth, suckling. "Sigmoid colon is where feces is kept. Anyway, Pat, fuck you are a good boy," he said, his hips automatically rocking as the otter's warm mouth welcomed him, "Susie slipped us both a powerful suppository digestive during our makeout session. It was developed for cancer patients unable to keep food down, so they thought of a device to railroad it through. Food in your stomach is going down the express tube. Your body may grab 5% of the nutrients, but it'll end up in the fun zone and we know, oh we know, what filthy fun you love."

The otter's eyes went wide, his ears hot, his nipples hard, and his cock squirted pre all over Susan's paws. He moaned, and he kept on sucking on the snake. It was quite unusual for a reptile to have external genitals, but Pat was lucky and he was happy, rather pleased by the way Clark's balls gently tapped his chin and glided over his chest.

His cock wasn't nearly the monster that Lugo's was, but in its smaller size it allowed Patterson to enjoy himself more, to pleasure the male without having to devote every muscle and thought to relaxing and widening up. And Clark seemed plenty pleased with fucking his mouth.

Then came Susan, and what first felt like a wet paw was suddenly so much better: luxurious, smooth, firm, warm, and twitching lips enveloped the head of his cock as she mounted him. "Ouch, shit," she whispered, and Pat's eyes rolled back as his cock went rigid and his body flooded with pleasure. "Clark, we may just keep him in the trunk to jack up our car."

"Just relax, dear. I love you," said Clark, and as he continued to rock into Pat's muzzle, he leaned back and kissed his mate on the mouth. She sighed and closed her eyes, her big bunny ears folding back against her head. With that relaxation, suddenly she was taking more and more of the otter's cock.

"Oh fuck," Patterson said, then his mouth was full again. "Ohmmffuff."

The three fucked in unison, Clark making out with Susan as Pat thrust up into her, the tightness and wetness of that passage throwing him into fits, all the while having a cock steadily pumping into his face, cool and hard, pulsing with life.

The otter felt his stomach groan and heave, and then suddenly it traveled down, fast, with solid content that had been sneaking through his small intestine barreling along. He heard similar sounds from Clark, the cobra's abdomen cycling from mere inches to his face to directly against his nose, the snake's oddly standard-shaped penis with its capped head smoothly gliding over his tongue, occasionally jetting pre into his mouth. The bunny let out a low sigh, bending her back and pressing her plump breasts into the otter's paw, bucking her hips as her folds and her cunny twitched and grasped at the long, thick otter cock thrusting deep inside her.

Patterson's guts continued to growl and clench, and the otter felt his knees spreading and his tail pressing against the ground, moving all appendages it could out of the way of his rump. As he hilted inside Susan's warm, wet cunt, he bucked extra high as his sigmoid twitched, then his rectum, and he groaned deep as hot, thick matter pressed against his anus.

Against its own wishes, the otter tried to tighten, tried to clench his pucker, tighten everything he could against the madly pulsing ring, but one deep breath later it fought against him and completely unclenched.

"Mmmmhh!" he groaned as Clark hilted in his mouth, the snake sensing his flex, and Patterson clutched Susan's heavy breasts, the otter holding on for dear life as he pushed a slick, solid, fat log through his ring, his body laying a long, girthy strip of otter dung right on his tail, two continous feet of feces spreading his ring and slithering out to lay warmly, pungently, across his tail.

"Oh God, there we go, baby," murred the bunny, feeling her pussy clench as her bowels filled, "just like that. Clark, baby," she moaned, and the snake turned to kiss her, still fucking Patterson's mouth. The bunny froze on the otter's cock, pushing an equally big shaft out of her back hole. Patterson felt her long, thick shit slide against his egg-shaped balls, the turd laying itself heavily and warmly on the bottom side of his tail, right next to his own. The head of the log tickled his dirty ring, and the otter bucked again, thrusting up between her legs as a second cable of stool pushed its way out of him, and he continued pushing, coiling and piling the stuff on his tail, beneath Susan who was laying her own, Pat feeling the weight and the warmth of the filthy heap grow.

Clark broke the kiss and hissed as his own body tensed up, balls resting against Pat's chin with his cock deep inside the otter's muzzle, and Susan helped the cobra lift his tail. The cobra sat upright on Patterson and unclenched, pushing out his own long, winding, coiling snake of shit on the otter's chest. It wasn't as hot as a mammal's scat but there was a lot of it, and Clark watched out of the corner of his eyes that brown pile form on his chest, behind the cobra's legs, as the male resumed fucking his face.

Patterson lay back and relaxed as the sour stink of cobra shit hit his nose as the dominant snake mated with his mouth, his balls swinging underneath him, his pile of crap right behind him. Further down, the otter fucked the bunny's sweet cunt, his hips bucking the best they could as the pile of his own moist, firm load compounded with Susan's and tickled his thighs.

Susan writhed and groaned on top of Patterson, her pussy sliding, grasping, and groping the otter's cock as not an inch behind this canal, her bowels moved again, and Patterson feltthrough his cock another thick, undulating load worm its way out of her, piling and piling on top of his tail.

"Oh, that's a good girl," groaned Clark, his movements into Pat's mouth slow as his ring again unclenched, spooling more filthy, thick rolls of clay on the otter's chest, "And this is a good boy."

That large mound of muck on Pat's tail; the warm, stinking pile on his chest and stomach as well; combined with the bunny's hot, wet folds clenching at him and the cobra's smooth cock thrusting into him, set Pat into overdrive, and he moved his paws to Susan's hips where he thrusted hungrily, passionately into her, while his head bobbed and slid over Clark's cock.

His two lovers sighed and groaned in pleasure, legs spread and hips thrusting as both of them tried to relax, their bowels still moving, and the otter planted his footpaws on the ground and kept going, his own filthy ring gaped as a third, slimy, wrinkled leviathan of a turd pushed its way out of him.

The cobra gasped and came first, Clark grabbing the back of Patterson's head and hilting himself deep inside him, a rope of shit still slithering from his asshole as he dumped cum right into the otter's maw, down the back of his throat, his cock pulsing as it spewed thick, goopy loads into Patterson until his mouth was full and he had to gulp to keep up, amazed at the snake's sheer volume. His cock wasn't huge, but he was a squirter.

Susan let out a cry and, however wet she was before, suddenly she flooded Patterson's lap with a torrent of piss and juices as her pussy clenched and pulsed at the otter's cock, stroking and soaking it until Pat, too, went off, letting out a cum-filled gurgle of pleasure as his loins grew hot and pleasure boiled up from his plum-shaped balls all the way to the tip, where Patterson erupted waves and waves into Susan until the bunny's crotch was oozing in the stuff, hot goopy semen drooling from her pink folds and all over the otter's groin.

Gasping in pleasure, his hips shaking as the otter's warm mouth teased his oversensitive, post-orgasmic cock, Clark stroked Patterson's head as he placed the other paw on the small of his abdomen, right over his bladder. His forked tongue flicked as his rectum pushed out the last of his nasty load, the gaped anus in his yellow scaly body pinching off the brown, curled coil of the stinking turd viper he'd left on his chest.

"Just one more thing, nnf," he said, and before Pat could react Clark's cock sprang to life, pouring hot, musky urine into his mouth, forcing the otter to chug the male's wastewater until his belly bulged and a piece of Clark's load broke off his stomach and rolled down his side.

Pat responded by releasing his own bladder, startling the bunny as piss filled her pussy and then fountained out of her, spraying down her thighs and Pat's crotch. After a few gasps and screams, her chest heaving as she said, "Pat, oh you dirty boy!" Susan grinned and the flow out of her doubled in strength and volume as she released, too, and a torrent of salty, perfumed water gushed out of her, around the otter's cock, turning the insides of her white thighs yellow as it flooded Pat's waterproof lap and puddled around them, around the enormous double-load piled on Pat's tail, leaving his rump, thighs, and balls in a filthy oasis.

~~~

They lay here in repose for a few minutes, their bodies leaking until they all pinched off and all dribbled off. Susan seemed to have trouble with a particularly wide turd keeping her gaped. The stench had been easy to ignore while in the throes of passion, but now as their post-orgasmic bliss settled, the piss and feces of three different animals, with three very different diets, started to assault their senses.

Pat almost wanted to grab two muddy pawfuls of Clark's pile and paint his rump and thighs brown with it, wanted to see Susan do the same with her plump, voluptuous breasts, but it was really, really time for a fuckin' shower.

"Guys, just thanks for being an emotional dumping ground for me," said Pat, taking Clark's penis out of his mouth, "This is really cool."

"You're an asshole, but a tight asshole," Clark said, the cock between his thighs drooling with a long strand connecting the head to Patterson's chin. He craned his long cobra neck, seeing Susan and Patterson's mountain of crap resting across the back of the otter's tail. "A bitter one, and an acquired taste. Just ..."

Susan groaned, her rabbit tail twitching as her load refused to pinch off, an enormous log hanging from her stretched-out hole, resting against Pat's balls and messy tailhole. "Bull in a china shop. Oof, goddamn, hold on. Damn," she said, then with a guttural groan forced it out. It tapped on Patterson's balls with surprising heft, making the otter flinch. "Some people are ceramic snowflakes. They are delicate and they are beautiful. It's okay for them to exist ... just move around them if they irritate you so much."

"So," said Pat, trying to sit upright. The sudden motion made Clark fall backwards and his rump splatted right into his filthy mound, mashing it across both golden rump cheeks, his thighs, and with some of it squishing forward toward Patterson's chin from beneath his brass-colored balls.

Pat smirked; mission accomplished. He smiled happily as Susan wrapped her arms around her lover's torso, her head over his right shoulder. Clark's hood and her big ears seemed to compliment each other so well. "So yeah, I'd love to ... be with you guys, however that might be. Take care of me and I'll take care of ... oh fuck. Susan, I'm not getting you pregnant, am I?"

The rabbit smiled, her pretty buck teeth shining as she talked. "Guess our litter's getting a half-brother or sister. If it happens."

His cheeks burned. "You guys already have kids?"

The two laughed. "Life's one continuous diaper change when we're off work," said Clark. "First I change the kids, then I change the wife. Then she changes me. Now you can join our circle."

Patterson's face went red-hot, and suddenly the pussy clenched around his cock seemed all the more wonderful, intimate ... yet dangerous. How did a rabbit-cobra hybrid work? Ears, tongue, teeth, body, and what were they called? A cobbit? A rabra? A rake? A snabbit?

Then what would they have? A rotter? An abbot?

His heart went thundering as bills, bills, obligations, and bills started piling up inside him, waiting to be pushed out into the best pair of slacks at the worst time.

"This is moving really fast."

"Pick a direction and go as fast as you want," said Clark, sitting in his own shit on Pat's chest, "as long as you can keep the car on the road."

His heart fluttered in his chest. He had just recently crested into his twenties, just recently got a career. Now ... a family? "You guys had better take good care of me. I've already spun out once with Lugo."

"That was a bad crash," said Clark.

"You don't have to worry, sweetie," said Susan, "We'll wipe your ass and everything."

"You like video games?" asked Clark, grinding his ass on Pat's chest. "Definitely not around the kids, but you could put some hard time on Leaky Legends and, when you have an accident, we can be your pit crew and change you right on-the-spot. Just stand from your chair and we'll swap diapers, lickety-split!"

"That sounds amazing. But ... This island is very promiscuous. What's to say I don't end up in some mud-orgy with two dicks in my ass, my dick in some random hole, with two chicks rubbing their butts on my face while they load up their bikini bottoms?"

The cobra stroked the otter's ear, his slitted eyes watching the mammal. "Then we best have a long talk about that, and be sure that one of those holes is me, and one of those chicks is your girlfriend."

Susan groaned, folding her arms under her chest. "I dunno, Clark. I'm not sure if I want anyone else. Let's pause on the swinging to concentrate on Pat."

"Yeah, this one's a handful enough," said Clark to susan, then turned back to Pat. Now see? You got responsibilities now that you're on Team Kensington. We're an elite three-person squad fighting through life's problems."

These two deviants were scooping him up and throwing him in the back of their family minivan. On one paw, it seemed terrible, but on the other paw, it felt great to have a family that L I K E D him.

"I'll join right up, sure," said Pat, double-pinned by lover and lover. Husband and wife. Whichever.

"But no more of your puritan talk, okay?" said Clark. "We made a contract, signed in semen," he continued reaching back to wipe a finger along the bunny's pussy, then dabbing it on Pat's nose, "and closed with a scat seal, with the stamp of Kensington upon it."

The cobra ground his rump against the otter for effect, and the seal between them had indeed grown stickier. Much longer and Clark, now his boyfriend or more, would be glued to his chest.

"Kinky, okay. Enjoying life's absurdities, but keeping our commitments at the same time."

"Very much," said Clark, grinning with his tongue flicking. "Who knows if Susan might spike your coffee with a little fun juice."

"A little accident while running errands," she said, "How embarrassing."

"Guess I'd better get used to diapers," chuckled Pat.

"If we let you," said Clark.

Patterson shivered at that, then his mind shot off into fantasy: he'd be going along at the grocery store, picking out fresh ingredients for a three-way romantic dinner, wearing perfectly normal clothes: briefs, shorts, and a tuck-in polo. There'd be occasional grumbles in his gut, but nothing serious. Just a few hints that he might want to visit the store's toilet before he leaves. Then, when he'd bend over to grab a block of cheese, his bowels would awake, say 'no, now,' and push a fat log right into his briefs, and it would hang between his buttcheeks as if in a hammock.

In public, he had no excuses, no one to hide him.

He'd have to leave, right then, but to rescue the dinner! Maybe he could use the self-checkout if it's really deserted, go past people fast and hope they'd think it's just a really bad fart. He'd be squirming and groaning as a second snake pushed against his ring and then slithered out without his consent, piling against the first, making a nice stinking mound in the back of his shorts, and it'd accelerate. He'd be at the self checkout, shitting uncontrollably, his tail permanently flagged as he resisted the urge to squat, shorts growing bigger and bigger as his underwear filled more and more, trying to keep the turds coming out as slow as possible, and then an item wouldn't scan, and "ASSISTANCE NEEDED" would flash across the screen ...

Then the cashier would come over, say, "Sir, can I..." before choking on the otter's rancid cloud, and he'd in the middle of everyone, loading up his underpants, a crowd gathering. As the seams of his underwear grew tighter and tighter against his thighs, Patterson would rip his shorts off and squat down, dropping a colossal coil on the floor as another drug kicked in and he pissed himself, urine simply springing from the organ dangling between his legs and splattering on the floor, making a big yellow puddle.

Susan squeaked, and Patterson found he was hard again. He started humping up into her, kicking both of them back into action. "I'll fuck both of you into incontinence," he growled.

Clark shrugged, then turned around on Pat to reveal his filthy smeared underside, painted in warm brown from his tailhole to his rump cheeks and on the backs of his thighs, nearly down to his knees. The otter sat up and nuzzled into the mess, feeling the cobra's taut, round cheeks, almost nose-blind to the mud that smudged across his face as he found the cobra's tight, dirty, wrinkled slit and started licking.

What if the laxative Susan had given him at the grocery store also had some pheromones, and so when the cashier came close--a handsome, studly skunk with a fat cock--he, too, lost his senses, and the otter would fish that growing organ out of his pants while the cashier helplessly shit himself, skunk spray and scat piling up in the back of his drawers--or if it was a jockstrap, falling out of his pantlegs, into the open--while a depraved otter, openly defecating on the clean tile floor he'd just mopped, sucked him off until the skunk splattered cum all over this random customer's face?

"Fuck," Pat said, licking Clark's messy hole, trying not to swallow too much of it. He humped into Susan's wet slit, then moaned as his body pushed another turd out and he erupted into the bunny once more. "Fuck!"

Clark pawed himself off, spraying a second load of snake spunk, this time right into that messy pile he'd left, the one that was also all over the otter's face. "Thattaboy. Filthy, dirty boy."

"Fuck," Pat said again, laying back, even weaker after a second orgasm. "I love you guys so much. More than I could imagine; this ... my life is going so fast."

The cobra panted, his otter-licked asshole a little cleaner as it twitched in orgasm, as his balls pulsed between his legs, musky and round, as his cock drooled semen into the filth he left on Patterson's stomach.

"It goes as fast as you want it, Pat," said the bunny, groaning as she pulled off the otter, her crotch dumping all his fluids all over his lap.

"Aaah, fuck yeah," Pat groaned as her slick tunnel slid against him, then again as his cock popped out in the open and flopped on his stomach. "I want to be in love as fast as possible. Like with you two. Let's tie the knot, exclusive forever. Let's do it."

The bunny's buck teeth showed as she bit her lip. Clark unstraddled Pat's chest and moved over him, then helped the otter lay back in his lap, where he pet him, and tried to get some scat out of his eyes, around his nose and mouth.

"We're married, but it's just for the tax benefit," said Clark. "And the children."

"Right, the children."

"Which we love."

"You know, Jeannie's about to turn eighteen, you think we should ask..."

"Incest? That just makes things complicated," said Clark. "Just imagine the porn dialogue. 'You're not wearing that to school unless you give your mother a lapdance, I'll give you extra allowance if you suck your father's cock, we're not changing that diaper until you finish your homework. We know you caught your brother jerking in the shower, but no helping him until you've applied to three more colleges.'"

Patterson gasped, laughing deeply, crying through poo. "You guys are psychotic and I think I enjoy it."

Susan grinned, groping her breasts as she sat in front of Patterson's cock, her cunt drooling with his juices. "Welcome to the family, then."

"I ... may seriously love this." he asked, imagining how silly the name 'Patterson Kensington' would look on his papers. "No one else for now?"

"No one else for now," said Susan.

The otter smiled, envisaging a kinky three-person life: nursery, bedroom, kitchen ... oh God, like Susan and himself are both cooking breakfast, bottomless, of course, or even better: mesh panties and an apron. The kids are off at school. He takes over two cups of coffee, one for each of his lovers, and they both drink heartily.

But it's a fun brew, of course, and before long their morning bowels are moving fast. Both glance panicked at the restrooms as their stomachs grumble, their guts tremble, but the cobra wraps an arm around both their waists.

He kisses both of them lovingly on the cheeks, and they try to kiss back before one of them moans in dismay and pleasure and they rip a loud, nasty fart that quickly squelches into the squishing, telltale sound of defecation, their ass pushing fat turds into their mesh panties, completely visible to the cobra, who then reaches under their apron and starts stroking off whichever shape of pisser that lover has up front.

The other lover isn't far behind, and he/she tries to hold on as long as he/she can, scrambling eggs and buttering toast and flipping bacon as their guts complain and their rump clenches, colon quickly filling up with content. Their stomach bulges as they try to resist the body's induced cramps, and suddenly the whole situation's a lot worse because they feel the warmth of the other lover's muzzle, the one that failed and now has a huge, stinking load hanging from their rear, right up between their own buttcheeks, the ones trying to conceal an pucker constantly twitching, constantly trying to open up, and everything seems like it might work out, but then the microwave dings and the person loses all concentration and they unclench, and despite any efforts to the contrary, they remain unclenched as a solid, thick, hot, ridged python of shit spools out of them, into the seat of their panties, piling up heavy and deep against the mesh and against the other lover's muzzle...

Then there was a rustle in the forest and the three of them froze.

Out of the bushes came what initially looked to be a yellow praying mantis with black patches, wearing a starched white shirt up top and a dry, white diaper down below. This mantis with cat ears clutched a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other, and only when this skinny insect came close could they see it was a cheetah, emaciated to the bone, his eyes burning bright and clear like the high beams of a supercar.

The rabbit felt something fall out of her. The cobra stood upright, chest out with arms behind his back. Patterson sluggishly tried to stand, but a fur-and-bone footpaw pushed his head back into the sand.

The rabbit and cobra stood transfixed at attention, while the otter stared up at a silent skeleton carpeted in fur, its face fixed with hard, quiet contempt, the eyes bright and present.

Patterson's throat tightened as the cat took a drag on his cigarette, then blew it down at him.

"You're filthy," the cheetah said, then unscrewed the cap of his vodka and dumped it on the otter's chest, thinning and loosening the stinking pile.

Then the cat took his footpaw off Patterson's head, walked around to the bottom of him, and from the mound between his legs he pulled a gold band.

Patterson's mind boggled as he noted the movement of every muscle, the lumpy knob of every joint, at the cheetah turned the stool-covered ring in his fingers.

The cobra coughed from the sidelines. "S-sir?" he stuttered.

"Any relationship can be fixed," said the skeleton, his eyes looking too big for his emaciated face, the ring smearing his fingers and easily big enough to fit around two, "but around fools, you must break them of their vices. A partnership gets burdened with so many useless, filthy caprices..."

At this, he lifted the bottle to his lips and swigged, then popped the ring in his mouth. He swished it around, cheeks bulging in alternation, then he spat into his paw, brown-tinged liquor flying past his fingers.

The ring shone golden in the light, pure. "But at our core are the emotions, pure and invincible. Love. At all costs."

He pushed the bottle down into the sand by Patterson's shoulder, then took a drag from his cigarette and flipped the ring like a coin, catching it in his paw. He walked off into the forest, his diaper crinkling and his shirt flapping around his skeletal frame.

Patterson sat up when he disappeared, shivering and feeling cold, looking to Clark and Susan as they stood silent on the sideline. "I ... that was ..."

"Yeah."

"Is ... is he okay?"

Susan leaned against Clark, who just stared off into the forest, his slitted eyes and tongue scanning. "There are men who come back from extensive lengths of meditation, of loneliness, where they have sought the depths of personal knowledge and beheld the extremes of existence, of Heaven and Hell. They develop the thousand-yard stare."

The rabbit's ears perked, and she helped Patterson up as he struggled to pull his tail from under their pile. "Good God, Clark; do we need to call someone?" she asked.

"What if he's packed that diaper with explosives?" asked Patterson.

Clark's hood twitched, a smile winking on his face. "No, no. This thousand-yard stare manifests itself, as the name implies, in the person's eyes. The eyes may glaze over completely, for the knowledge and horror they have found has blinded them. In others, however, the eyes become clear as crystal stones, because they see greatness and understand it."

Patterson and Susan nodded, finding themselves on either side of Clark. The otter leaned past the hood, looking up at the cobra's handsome, golden chin. "He'll be okay, then?"

"He will be," said Clark, then grinned over at Susan. "But Lugo is going to be feeling this for quite a while. He'll be okay in time. The two of them ... might be great."

"How about us?"

Clark smiled and wrapped an arm around Patterson, with Susan reaching across to stroke the otter's vodka-and-poop smeared chest.

"Welcome to the family."

This was one hell of a baptism.