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Arty's Gay Agenda

By The Hypnotized Quill 03/13/2022

Arty was flamingly gay, a lean, noodley twink of a ferret that had pierced ears, perfectly styled hair, and an ever-fashionable wardrobe. He was flamboyant, limp-wristed, lispy, and a total power bottom. He'd been in New York for the annual parade, the biggest gay party of the year. He was dancing on his harem's boat, all of them grinding and dancing and lost in the rhythm and the drugs coursing through their systems, making them hazy, horny, obedient pets. There were three pairs, two bulls, two equines, and two wolves, all heavily muscled and hung like no one's business.

They were enjoying the lewd display and vibes when Arty felt a rotten tomato hit him in the chest, marking up his gold nipple rings with the rotten fruit. He scowled and turned to see several very straight and very bigoted people. "Boys? Get the fogger and misters... we're gonna turn some straight folks into queers!" The pets all grinned, having once been straight prudes themselves. The floats stopped and he hopped off, swaying his hips as he walked up to them, the wolves having a portable fog machine, letting out a mist of musk that covered the ground.

"Pfff...look at this faggot loser! Listen here, homo, you're going to he--"

"Help you let go of your 2,000 year old religion that's soooo outdated it gives your hideous outfit a run for its money in how tacky and out of fashion it is? Honey, I'd loooove to~!" the weasel said in a feminine lisping voice with a grin as he grabbed a mister without looking from the wolf at his left shoulder, spritzing the fox in the face with something that reeked of... a locker room, of big hot... men... wait...!

The fox stumbled back, coughing and trying to wipe it away, but it was too late. All of those thoughts he had suppressed, about how hot Greg the Snake guy from his gym was, how much he enjoyed his own musk... suddenly his cock grew hard and kept growing and growing in his cargo shorts until the zipper shredded apart, the white Y-fronts underneath staining with pre as the fabric ripped at the crotch seams. "M-Michael?! What did you d--"

Suddenly one of the equines began to pump music from a boombox on one large shoulder, distracting the fox's wife, a very foxy woman herself. The pounding beat filled her head, as if it was playing through a powerful subwoofer, shaking her to her bones. "Babe, you're way too gorgeous for this schmuck. If you had a cock I'd let ya pound me all night. In fact... all of ya'll'll be joining my little harem tonight for an orgy at our hotel," the ferret giggled.

A spritz to Mariam's face and she was on her knees, rubbing herself through her skirt, even as her innards twisted, her eyes crossing as she went through wracking orgasms. Her clit began to swell and throb and ache and form into a shedick, and her ovaries, useless in a gay harem of course, began to shift and drop down from that former pussy, her body forming a big, fat canid dick and a heavy, churning set of nuts. Her eyes turned rainbow alongside her formerly-straight husband's own. "Oh gawd... I'm thuch a thlutty fag, Thir!" Michael giggled, a heat running through him as he burnt off some muscle, turning into an ever-so-slightly chubby femmefoxboi.

"Mmm...two bigots into queer peers down~! Boooyys, get the other two~!" Arty giggled, the Bulls jumping off the float. The pair, two younger, twinkish cats in department store chique outfits, starched collars and all, backpedalled furiously, crying out as they dropped their "Queers will burn" signs, turning to run. A double THOOM of compressed air launching something was the last thing the twinks heard before jockstraps smacked them in the face, almost magically crotch-to-nose, the straps tying behind their heads and trapping their noses. The wolves were groping and making out with the fagfoxes, the music filling their heads, grinding and dancing, their old lives burning away. Not quite the "burning" they had envisioned for gay people, but this was their fate, and they couldn't even remember why this was so wrong.

Meanwhile, the volunteers, a tabby and a tiger, brothers, were clawing at the jockstraps wrapped around their faces, crying out as the Bulls pushed the foggers to their faces, gassing them with cool musk through freshly worn jockstraps. It didn't take long pinned to walls for the pair to blow their first loads as queer bois, their eyes starting to glow shifting colors. "Good boys. Just breathe and huff. No more church, no more rules against jerking it or no sex before marriage... you're gonna be able to jerk off and fuck as often as you want," the bulls whispered into their ears, fondling their packages as they began to shrink with heavy throbbing.

Arty went and talked to one of the coordinators and bribed him to add a last minute float to the end of the parade. They quickly got one whipped up and the set of former evangelicals were put on the float of a crumbled temple, a banner reading "They once were lost, now they've found (the gay life!)"

The shefag was dressed as a dominatrix, with a mask, bustier, gloves, high heels, and her cock on full display. The new hung boytoy that was her husband was dressed as a club slut, with pink fishnets, matching collar and cock cage, and a plug in his plump, fat ass. The limp-dicked sissy brothers were dressed as schoolgirls from Big Dick University, their furs pink and purple, both riding fat rubber horse cocks, tiny caged dicks spurting as they had hands-free sissygasms. "Lucifer, do I love Pride~!" Arty said with a wide grin from his own float.