FSE

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Urgently Wyatt rang the doorbell again. He even rapped on the screen as loudly as he dared in the dying light of the evening hours. As much as he realized it had barely been a few seconds and certainly less than a minute since he'd first pressed the weathered plastic buzzer, he was feverish with impatience and...

He felt his stomach groan unhappily, his guts protesting the agony he had forced them through. The same agony he himself had been forced through, if only by his command. Wyatt held his belly tenderly in his paws, doing his best to focus on anything else but the complaints coming from inside him. He tried fixating on the tightness of the once loose-fitting t-shirt now barely containing his bloated but or hell, even the constriction of a cage one size too small cocooning his sheath. He could even dare to try thinking about the way the muscles of his hole clenched around the conversely much too large butt plug, the only thing currently keeping him from a miserable catastrophe...

No, no he couldn't. Instincts told him to push when he did, and that wasn't an option. Not for him.

But still, there was no answer... The white-tailed deer whimpered nervously now, biting his tongue to stop himself from crying out too loudly as he desperately jabbed his thumb against the damned bell for a drone of non-stop discordant fuzz. He could hear it trilling through the walls of the rundown farmhouse-style shack, faint enough outside to not be noticed but surely he had heard it by now... surely?!

Seconds went by again, ticking over and over and over and over... Wyatt could have screamed, another shuddering protest rumbling from his bowels turning his legs cold as he fought to stay standing.

Please, he wailed in his head, please just open the door. I don't care about cumming anymore, just let this end.

More seconds crawled by, dragging one by one by one by one... He didn't know how much longer he could last, his mind racing with nothing but his newfound hell. Slumping his head against the half-torn screen door and holding down the bell, he begged anew for a different kind of release than what he had been promised.

But then he heard it. Footfalls, dulled and slow, heavy enough to reverberate through the older-than-old timber he stood upon, making their way towards him. For as much as his guts might turn in protest, he felt himself surge with relief and he stood bolt-upright once more. Just in time to have the door before him flung wildly open with force, the hinges putting up a tremendous fight not to break there and then, as a hulking figure loomed into view through the frame with little but the screen between them.

"You're late." His voice was rough, a lacquer of drowsiness and ample disinterest for the deer's predicament. "I got so bored I took a nap."

"I'm sorry," Wyatt blurted, barely wasting a second longer now that he was finally so close to relief. "The last guy took forever, wouldn't give me what I- I mean what you wanted until he was satisfied." The knots in his stomach were winding tighter even as they spoke, like wet rope twisting against itself with the threat of snapping at a moment's notice.

Please, just let me in.

The goliath gave a guttural sniff as if considering the deer's excuse, still not yet moving as he lingered just enough in the shadows to have Wyatt doubting for a split second if he'd finally be allowed to enter.

"But you got the goods though, right?"

Stepping forward barely an inch, just enough to spill what little burnt-out illumination from the streetlights onto him, the man stood over the deer and looked down upon the aging jailbait before him.

A black bear of herculean size towered over him, barely dressed in a sleeveless shirt and ill-fitting boxers that had both seen better days between the faded food stains speckling his chest and the frayed holes that threatened to reveal all too much. His beer belly filled the vest out and then some, with the overhang of his gut cresting the waistband of his underwear in what could have possibly made up for his indiscretion. But with an equally swollen bulge that seemed to perfectly match his own gut, there was no hiding the male's impressively fat endowment. Everything about him, in fact, appeared to be so impossibly huge, with limbs as thick as tree trunks and a neanderthalic skull strained at a neck that turned all too quickly to shoulders. Beady eyes caught some glint of light that assured Wyatt the bear had long since trained its gaze on him, and unwavering they blinked in the sea of obsidian fur where ragged pelts formed waves cresting over the swell of his frame. The bear was a predator, something Wyatt knew was far too close to the truth there and then. But worse than that, he had gotten the bear's attention and not in the way he had hoped.

"Y-yes!" A cacophony of elation and dread almost overcame him with a headrush of anxious giddiness, sensing just a crumb of leniency in the man's tone. "I got extra too! There was a bunch of 'em at Lucky's Dive. I thought I had time for them..."

Though he was one step closer, the screen door remained closed, the bear seemingly fixed in perpetual contemplation as though he were deciding the deer's very fate. A new sinking weight added itself to his stomach as he realized that even this wasn't enough to earn enough good grace with the giant, pay his dues, and make amends.

"I'll get more..." Wyatt whimpered, unable to hold back to strain in his voice and the visceral tremors that rippled through him at this point, "tomorrow, I'll get more tomorrow. The same as today and then some." Looking up and mustering as much heartfelt sincerity as he could, as if his life depended on it, he met the bear's eyes despite his instincts telling him not to. "Please... I'll do whatever you want..."

There was a pregnant pause as Wyatt made his plea, an offer he already regretted realizing he would actually have to go through it all again in less than twenty-four hours, but he didn't know what else to do. The bear stayed silent for seconds Wyatt swore he didn't have until there came a sigh as the male cleared his throat,

"Fuck it, it'll be a waste otherwise..." he muttered under his breath, the bear's glare still zeroed in on his own though, unflinching as he spoke louder, "But I want triple, not double. And you wear that thing until tomorrow."

He wanted more?! There was only so much he could get! Only so many people who'd give it to him! Double would have been a struggle on its own, but triple seemed hopelessly impossible. Not to mention being forced to remain plugged for a full day... The most he'd gone is an afternoon and part of an evening at the bear's command.

But it was painfully clear to Wyatt what was happening. The bear was escalating things, pushing limits, and the protests of his encaged cock desperately straining to be free only told him that his arousal would always beat his nerves.

"Yes, absolutely, I'll do it all."

"Yes... what?" That gaze narrowed, its intensity only amplifying even more as the bear's paw lingered just upon the handle, refusing to open until Wyatt had demonstrated absolute servility.

"Yes, Master Ford."

Another second, maybe even two, and followed by yet one more eternity until finally, finally, the bear unlocked the last remaining door and swung it open for the deer. Lumbering his weight aside to let the deer pass, squeezing just through the gap afforded by the doorway between the bear's gut and the frame with a fumbling mess of gratitude based less on words and more on intention. There was an immediate feeling of eerie, cold relief more akin to misplaced guilt and shame evaporating from Wyatt's back as at long last he stood inside the house's front hall and a little closer to release. But the twisting sensation in his bowels remained as a stark reminder of what waited for him first, where the light at the end of the tunnel first called for him to swim down that same tunnel's dark, depraved depths.

The smell inside the blackened house swamped with shadow was a familiar one but still made his nose curl. Somewhere between a concoction of sweat from an ill-groomed bear to the stale stench of cum that had become an all too familiar aroma in Wyatt's life since he had met Ford. All this time he had spent crushing on people like the old college quarterback in his youth or that one cop who frequented the gas station, chiseled gods among men who seemed to have their lives far better together than the portly brute who owned the gas station itself and dared never lift a finger beyond loafing in his office guzzling junk food.

Yet here Wyatt was, no pining after athletic hunks or daring to chase after romance. No, he was here in the rundown equivalent of a frat pad with a slovenly male nearly twice his size in every dimension, groveling to his needs in the most humiliating and disgusting ways imaginable.

He sniffed the air again. His skin crawled as he realized it felt like home.

"Should we..." he offered, uncertainty kicking back in as Ford closed, then locked the door behind him, sealing them both inside with nowhere else for Wyatt to go but deeper still. "I've been holding it for ages, so should we go straight to th-"

"Strip." Cut short, Wyatt hesitated for a moment, turning to face the bear. Ordinarily, there was more foreplay to this, but then he was already late enough as it was, and looking up at Ford's face he could see the impatience flashing behind those predator's eyes. "Strip now, or you go home."

With little choice else, the deer began to peel away what little clothing he had with trembling paws. Already scantily dressed for the sake of convenience, it didn't take him long to be stood before Ford with nothing covering himself save for bashful paws cupping his crotch - a moot point in itself, considering it was only hiding the very chastity cage that the bear had made him wear. The only other thing he "wore" besides the cage hugging his cock and balls was the thick, bloated base of the plug cushioned between pillowy buttocks of creamy brown fur. Even the tuft of his tail was forced upwards and out over the edge of the large plug's base, unable to hide it as he stood there before Ford.

As if it might have made Wyatt feel a little more comfortable, the bear casually yanked off his own well-worn top, dropping his sagging briefs to the floor so that he stood before the deer as equally nude. Yet not an ounce of Ford's demeanor matched Wyatt's anxiousness, as the bear seemed all too at ease to stand in his full, swollen glory to loom over the deer, hunger brimming in his eyes with increasing intensity.

"Turn around," Ford snarled, his impassive, stoic face finally cracking into a famished, sadistic leer, "bend over."

Wyatt did as he was told, turning away with his back to the bear which only elicited the strangest of sensations like he was prey being stalked. But ignoring the urge to fight or flight, he stooped over where he stood, assuming the position he had taken all too many times before, even with his stomach protesting, and grabbed his ankles with his paws with his legs just enough apart to keep balance while still presenting himself. Inside he could feel his guts quivering, almost as if the anticipation that it all might finally be released washing over him was being sensed by his bowels, and he bit his lip to stifle the unbecoming whimper that threatened to bubble free from his throat.

Paws the size of dinner plates suddenly clapped against his exposed cheeks, Ford grabbing the bared flesh that framed the ungodly size of the plug still locked deep in the deer's ass. The bear was sizing up his meal, thumbs tracing the edges of that buttplug while prying the rump apart to gain a little purchase. But a little was all he needed, as digits deftly tugged between latex and fur, to create a gap that began to pull against Wyatt's rim. From between his legs, his world turned upside down, he saw the bear squat to the floor with his head, thought out of sight, likely level with his ass, and the pulling became more pronounced. The deer had spent so long keeping a firm grip on the flared plug that his overworked muscles almost protested at finally being ordered to release, making Wyatt feverishly beg his body to relax internally to give up the plug to another. Wider and wider he stretched, more of that deep black toy being birthed into view by his hole, as the diameter forced him open inch after inch, until at its very maximum...

He howled instinctively as the widest part finally broke free from his rim, and like a dam with the pressure built up behind it, he felt the release churn through him as if a firehouse had been turned on inside. There was a sickening, horrific slurp and ripples of trapped air coursing against the ever-diminishing size of the tapered plug as Wyatt couldn't hold back any longer and gave in to the urge to expel everything and anything that he could.

With the plug out of the way and nothing to hold back the flood any longer, the deer shuddered in relief as the many dozens of loads began to gush from his gaping hole. But being Ford's personal cumdump was not just for the personal satisfaction of humiliating the deer, as before the first torrent of fuck knows whose seed could drip like slurry down Wyatt's taint and thighs was the bear's tongue on it with impatient ferocity.

There was nothing he could do except stand his ground as with bear paws grappling his cheeks from either side and forcing his ass apart, giving that relentlessly invading muzzle and impossibly long tongue easy access to his wide open hole. He didn't even need to push back on his guts to let the cum out as Ford's mouth worked its way inside him, lips pressing at his stretched rim and sucking out every load that poured out from his ass. The sensation made him feel faint, the sudden evacuation of so many gallons of cum from men he barely knew, all getting guzzled down by the bear's insatiable appetite. Even beneath the sound of his stomach and abdomen churning to release that pent-up seed was undercut by Ford's gross, chilling gulps as he greedily drank from the deer's behind. But even as the longer it went on and the bear's appetite never once abated, Wyatt could feel his ass getting wetter and sloppier with each passing moment, the overflow of his own rear making a mess against the bear's face, mixed in with saliva and what could have been lube though it would be impossible to tell any longer.

But just as he felt like there was nothing more he had left to give, those paws gripped into him, claws digging against that tender skin, refusing to let him go as the tongue just wrestled its way deeper. The bear was felching his way right into Wyatt's guts, writhing and squirming against his insides as if there might have been more left hidden that he'd attempted to hide away. It was possible, he thought, as he breathlessly panted and moaned with pre dripping from his cage, as he no longer knew where he had ended and the reservoir of stored cum had began. So even as Ford had tapped into the dankest, wettest depths of his guts, there was every chance he would find new pockets of cum to suck down. That tongue slurped and slid its way around as if probing for that last morsel, not satisfied until it had licked every inch clean that it could reach, even if Wyatt squeezed back and forced what little strength was left in his muscles to expel whatever was left that might have remained at the deepest point inside. It was almost as if Ford's tongue had dove into his colon by this point, the deer swearing to himself that he could feel that writhing appendage pressing out against his abdomen, right at his naval, renewing the feeling of utter humiliation and disgust within himself. Exhausted and frenetically on the edge of an orgasm that would never come for himself, the deer was seconds away from buckling over in the bear's grasp.

It was only then that he felt Ford finally give way, pulling his muzzle free from between those sodden cheeks. The sudden departure of the bear's tongue that had buried itself so deep inside him making his gut quake with an abrupt emptiness. Wyatt had almost forgotten what it had felt like, to not feel so full and uncomfortable, unable to expel a single drop under Ford's orders to bring him a bukkake's worth of cum to binge on. But now that he was, his ass still churning up bubbles in whatever cum or spit was left smothering his hole from stale air trapped inside him now free to escape, his hole yawning to the open air, he just wanted to feel full again. Whether it was with the plug, that same tongue, or even Ford's dick, he just needed to be whole...

He was pulled up from his stance by Ford's strong guiding paws, turning him back around to face the bear. Looking up at that slimy, cum-slathered grin, Wyatt would have done anything and everything the bear asked if it just gave him some semblance of relief of satisfaction. Fingers found their way into his hole, several fitting in all at once without much protest from the deer, as Ford lifted him upwards onto that gut and towards his face. Knowing that the bear's muzzle was smothered in strangers' loads that had spent the better part of an afternoon stewing in his own ass, Wyatt grimaced at the thought of kissing the bear, but he couldn't help himself as the same tongue that had swam its way through his guts chose his own mouth and throat to slip and slide into. He moaned pitifully as that tongue filled him, nearly cutting off his air, as Ford kissed him deeply and voraciously, those cum-smeared lips sharing the load to the deer's own face. When he finally pulled away, Wyatt gasping for breath and dripping in seed and spit, he barely heard the bear speak,

"Triple for tomorrow then," Wyatt had almost forgotten the deal he'd made, but reminded of it then and his stomach turned, "and you wear the plug all day, including the loads I put in you tonight." His chest tight, but his cage tighter, the deer meekly nodded,

"Yes, Master Ford."

---

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