Possibilities
#2 of Companions, Inc.
*** Thursday, mid-afternoon, Companions Inc. meeting room
"We can engineer them to your exact specifications, Miss DeWilla. Your every whim, your every desire- we can combine them into the perfect companion."
"In what capacity do these companions serve?" Lenore DeWilla asked, a skeptical twist to her muzzle. The palomino-marked mare, though currently sitting primly, would easily stand head and shoulders above the skinny, lab-coat-clad gecko seated across the desk. Her professional, tidy skirt suit- a pale blue that accentuated her coat- shifted with a quiet shh sound as she crossed one leg over the other.
"Any capacity you wish. We have requests of all kinds: pets, assistants, sex toys, friends, sometimes nannies or housekeepers. Literally anything you like. If you specify it, we can create it. Would you like to begin?"
She nodded curtly. "We'll begin verbally, then," continued the gecko, opening a desk drawer and removing a thick booklet and a small digital recorder.
The session lasted several hours, mostly due to long pauses for explanation or elaboration- the mare had a lot of questions, and the gecko technician visibly relished the chance to talk at length about the Process, as he called it. When they had gotten through three pages of the booklet, the mare abruptly checked her expensive watch and bolted upright. "I've got an appointment in twenty minutes- can we continue this next week sometime, Doctor-"
"Vert. And certainly. Take the booklet with you, mark any questions you may have- It'll make the process go a bit faster."
"Thanks, Dr. Vert. I'll make an appointment with your secretary."
*** Thursday evening, DeWilla Mansion
Lenore, after a very long day, was relaxing in her hot tub. The lights were off, dozens of candles lighting the spa room instead. An enormous tub, easily large enough for three, currently contained only the horsewoman, lots of lilac-scented bubbles, and a large black vibrator shaped like a St. Bernard cock. She'd named it Hero.
Envisioning the paws of her imaginary lover, Lenore mumbled "Oh, Hero, darling, it's been too long." Running her own hooflike hands over her sides, across her taut stomach, gripping her wide hips, she moaned soft endearments, mind filled with visions of an enormous, muscled brute, dripping wet, pressing hot kisses to her muzzle. Kneading a breast, she nudged Hero's tip against her folds, simulating the tentative prodding of a polite but insistent lover. "Just take me, you fool!" she shouted into the empty room, eyes squeezed shut... and thrust.
The toy's tapered tip spread her open, making room for the thick shaft. Rippling her muscles against it, thumbing her clit, she impaled herself slowly on the vibrating, slick thing, sighing in relief. With a bump, the knot reached her outer lips, and Lenore ground slowly against it, basking in the sensation, then slowly drawing it out again. "Faster, you fool," the mare commanded her nonexistent male, and complied with a series of quick, sporadic thrusts, mimicking the humping of an overeager dog. With her free hand, she clutched at her hip and buttock, leaving a bruise and driving herself to frenzy. "Knot me! Ohh, yes, just like that!" she cried, obediently plunging the toy deeply, deeply, until the vibrating knot was lodged within her, rolling her hips and stroking her clit, and a weak orgasm washed over her. Lying back in frustration, Lenore reached down to switch off the toy. In the sudden silence, the mare sighed. "I need a real male. This just isn't doing it any more."
She'd tried dating. The males always pretended that a career-driven femme was exactly what they were looking for, that they really didn't expect her to cook dinner or think about them more than once or twice a day. After a screaming fight brought on when she forgot the last one's name, she'd given up on live males. Hero was nice, but he didn't have paws or a tongue. That's why the Companions ad, arriving in her morning mail, had piqued her curiosity. And after hearing the gecko- Dr. Vert, that was his name- talk about the possibilities, well, she was sold. He'd said that while he couldn't make any promises regarding exact measurements, he could certainly assure her of a male, roughly half a head taller than the mare and with no inconvenient emotional demands. Lenore's job was to decide what she wanted her new friend to be.
She found herself paging through sales ads, examining the muscular models. If respectability were a concern, she'd have to limit herself to equines. Luckily it wasn't, because as she turned a page into "Summer Sales!!!", she discovered a creature that stopped her dead.
He was massive, towering over the other males showing off tennis shorts and polos. His thick, scaly hide, shading from a mottled mossy green on his back to a pale creamy yellow at the V of his throat revealed by the shirt, covered thick slabs of muscle. Wicked black eyes and a devil-may-care smirk on his jagged-toothed muzzle completed the picture. He looked like he could pick her up, fuck her into the ground, eat her after, and smile the whole time. This crocodile was perfect.
After carefully clipping the picture and tucking it into the questionnaire booklet, Lenore prepared for bed. A new excitement was quickening within her.