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Day 15: Temperature Play

Today, an Espeon got a very naughty idea after watching her Flareon and Glaceon sisters relieve themselves in the morning. It wasn't that cold or hot out, and the psychic type couldn't help but noticing as Flareon's pee spread out in a steaming puddle all over the patio. At the same time, Glaceon was peeing on the edge of the patio, and her strong stream splashed pale yellow droplets all over the grass, leaving spots of crystalline frost, and even drips that froze in place and bowed the grass blades down. Flareon's must have been so hot, and Glaceon's so cold... Espeon's face heated up as she finished emptying her own bladder, and her heart pounded heavily. What would it... feel like? She wondered.

She didn't raise the question until after their trainer left for work. The three eeveelutions were relaxing in the living room. Flareon lay stretched out in a patch of sun by the window, Glaceon was curled up on the sofa, and Espeon lay in a soft bed, unable to make the thought go away.

“Umm, guys?" she asked timidly.

“Yeah?" Glaceon raised her head sleepily.

“You know how the couch or bed's always really nice and cool after you've been lying there?" she said to the ice-type, then looked at the Flareon. “Or how it's really warm when you've been lying there?"

“Uh-huh." Flareon didn't look up.

“Or... when we lick each other, your tongue always feels so warm and yours is always so cold. Especially in... special places, and it feels so good..."

“I guess so..." Glaceon yawned and stretched. “Do you want to do that now? Or we could get that one toy that was supposed to be for playing fetch but we never use it for that. Just let me nap a little more first."

“Actually, I was thinking..." Espeon fidgeted, feeling terribly embarrassed to mention this out loud. She pressed the twin tips of her forked tail together. “Your body temperature's a lot colder than most Pokemon because you're an ice type, right? And yours is a lot hotter?"

“Yeah. What's your point?" Flareon grumbled. “I was trying to sleep."

Espeon blushed even harder. “Well, remember last halloween when our trainer showed a movie about ghosts getting Pokemon when they were outside going potty, and I got so scared I tried to hold it in all night and wet the bed?"

“How could I forget? You got us wet too!" complained Flareon.

“Sorry. But, when that happened, I remember it felt really warm. But your pee would be really hot or cold, right? Like if you had an accident in bed it would feel like ice water, or if you did it'd be really hot?"

“Are you trying to find out?" Flareon asked combatively. “I'm not wetting the bed just to satisfy your curiosity!"

Espeon blushed even harder, and blurted it all out. “No! I was just thinking, if it feels extra good when we lick each other's privates because of the different temperatures, would it feel even better with... more liquid? Like sitting on a cold sprinkler, or a really hot one?"

Glaceon was fully awake now. She looked at her sister with confusion, surprise, and more than a little disgust. “Wait, are you asking us to... to pee on you?"

“Umm..." Espeon felt like her head was going to explode from shame. “Maybe a tiny bit?"

“Does this have anything to do with why you were staring at my butt this morning?"

Flareon stomped over to her bed. “What the hell?" she barked. “You know that's worse, right?"

“I - I only meant hypothetically!" stammered Espeon.

“Hypothetically, that would be completely disgusting!" the fire-type's hot breath pushed her whiskers back. “You want to get your fur soaked in piss?"

“It'd only be, you know, down between my legs!" Espeon argued. “That's where it comes out anyway, right? So it wouldn't make it any grosser."

“That's not how it works, you idiot! It'd still splash everywhere, and make a puddle under you!"

“Maybe she could put her paw in the puddle to get it hot or cold and then touch herself with it," suggested Glaceon. “Then there wouldn't be as much of a mess. Or use a bowl. Then it'd really get your whole paw."

“Whose side are you on?" snapped Flareon. “Don't tell me you're considering this!"

“I don't know..." the ice-type hopped down from the sofa. “It sounds gross, but it also sounds kind of fun." She padded up to the Espeon and licked her nose. “If you want to try it I'd be happy to help. Just let me drink lots of water, and in a few hours. On one condition."

“What?"

“You have to drink too. If you enjoy it... I'm curious how it feels too. And since Flareon's gonna be a spoilsport..."

“Hey! I'm not a spoilsport!" she batted Glaceon's head with a paw. “You two are just perverts!"

“You don't have to be such a hothead about it." Glaceon paced around the room, walking behind Flareon and nuzzling between her legs. The fire-type let out a small gasp.

“Ah! Your nose is so cold! Ick! Quit licking!"

“It feels good, doesn't it? And you're all wet back here! Are you suuuure this isn't turning you on a tiny bit?"

“Shut up!" Flareon jumped onto the couch and sat down, wrapping her tail protectively around herself. “I don't even like baths, why would you think I'd want to get soaked in your cold piss! And I'd need to take a bath afterward, too! Aaah, that's cool..."

“You don't have to try it if you don't want to." Espeon tried to be the voice of reason. “I didn't even think either of you would want to. I was just... curious how it would feel."

Flareon avoided meeting either of their eyes. “Fine," she muttered. “I'll try it. But only so I can see the looks on you idiots' faces when you admit it was a bad idea. Besides, I'll probably scald you and you pervs'll deserve it if I do." She headed for the water dish and started to lap.

All three pokemon drank as greedily and frequently as they could. Espeon's bladder soon began to feel uncomfortably full. By early afternoon, that slight nagging discomfort had turned to desperation. She knew there was no way she could make it until their trainer came home.

“Hnnngghh..." Flareon groaned. “Ready to get this over with? This better not be a prank to make me have an accident in the house: I can't hold it much longer!"

“Are you sure you don't want to wait as long as we can?" asked Espeon. She was enjoying the patch of sunshine now. “The sooner we do it, the longer we'll have to wait around with wet fur."

“You'll be the ones with wet fur. It's not my problem."

“I thought you said you wanted to try it," Glaceon said. “Unless you're chickening out at the last minute?"

“Yeah, but I'm a fire type. I can dry myself off!"

“Last time you tried that you melted the carpet," said Espeon. “Anyway, if you're totally dry when our trainer comes home you won't get a bath. Even if you evaporate the water there'll be... other stuff in our fur."

“Okay, fine... I guess I'll wait a little longer."

“Want to help me “warm up" first?" Glaceon rubbed up against Flareon, then rolled over and spread her legs. The three pokemon had been licking their own crotches periodically to stay in the mood, but by now they were so full that it was uncomfortable to curl up.

Flareon reluctantly got up and started licking between the ice-type's legs. Espeon felt a thrill of pleasure just watching. She needed to join in. She padded over and muzzled Flareon's warm, fluffy rump. The fire-type's hind legs were pressed together and shaking. She must have really had to go. Despite this, Espeon pulled her sister's tail aside with her psychic abilities. Ignoring her annoyed grunt, she shoved her nose right into the flareon's crotch and sniffed. She smelled so good... and tasted so good. She dragged her tongue across her fuzzy slit.

They took turns pleasuring each other until the urge to urinate was too much to bear. After one more generous drink, the desperate eeveelutions staggered toward the bathroom. Luckily, opening the bathroom door was easy for a psychic type, even though the doorknob was round. She opened the large, glass-walled shower in their trainer's bathroom and stepped inside. The floor was nice and dry. She rolled on her back, her bladder throbbing. Glaceon nuzzled her groin and gave her an extra slobbery lick, making her gasp and clench her muscles.

“Hrrgh! That's cold!"

“It's about to get colder," the ice type said. She turned around and squatted over Espeon's belly, then got up, turned to the side, and squatted again. She looked back, but still wasn't satisfied with the position, and stood up to try and adjust her aim.

“Just go! I'm going to explode!" Flareon was doing a potty dance, her claws clicking on the floor of the shower stall.

“I'm trying to make sure I get the right spot!" Glaceon squatted again, this time sitting down on Espeon and making her writhe in discomfort as her sister's weight pressed down on her bladder. She rubbed back and forth until their pussies touched, then lifted her rump up a couple inches. Espeon could hardly breathe she was so excited. They were really doing this. They were really actually doing this!

A spurt of liquid from Glaceon's folds sprayed against Espeon's. The psychic-type tensed, putting her claws out. “AAiiieep!" she yelped. “Oh wow, It's like ice water!"

Her yelp startled the Glaceon. She stood up, and spurted another jet of ice-cold, yellow liquid that sprayed all over Espeon's belly. “Oh, fuck! Sorry!" She squatted down and released her bladder a little more, drenching Espeon's pussy with a loud hiss.

“Too cold! Too cold!" she yelped. It felt like having a popsicle straight out of the freezer rubbed against her privates. Her crotch fur was drenched. Fuck, that felt good.

“Ha ha ha! I told you so!" Flareon laughed.

“I need hot water now." Espeon lay back and braced herself.

“Seriously? You actually liked that? Okay, fine, here comes a warm shower... ack! Damnit, I stepped in yours! It's gross and it's freezing!"

Glaceon burst out laughing, and involuntarily sprayed the shower wall with another spurt of pee. “Whoops. Ugh, I can't hold it at all!"

Espeon was about to commiserate when Flareon squatted over her and gave a sigh of relief. A dribble of steaming hot liquid washed over her genitals. She gritted her teeth in pain. After being soaked in ice water it felt like lava!

“Fuck! Too hot!" she growled. Flareon stood up hurriedly, her rear dripping. Her private parts were still burning from the heat of her sister's pee. The whole shower seemed hot and steamy just from that small release, and it was much more pungent too. “More cold!" She waited, panting, as Glaceon hurriedly took her place over her. “Yeep! Oh my god!" The contrast of the frosty flood hitting her now sore vulva again was unbearable. She lost control of her own bladder. A pleasantly warm fountain bubbled from between her legs and splashed down on her tail for three seconds before she regained control.

“Had enough yet?" Flareon teased.

“No. Oh my god that felt incredible!" Espeon panted. She could feel the mixture of her sisters' pee, pleasantly lukewarm, soaking into her back fur, but she didn't care. She paddled and kneaded the air with her paws. To her surprise Flareon licked her toe beans, and did her best to stuff her whole footpaw in her mouth, nibbling, chewing, and bathing her paw in hot saliva. She pulled back, a ribbon of spit hanging from her lips. Then the fire-type pushed her over onto her side. “We've had to get our feet wet," she said. “It's only fair that you do too."

Glaceon laughed, nodded, and squatted, releasing more frigid fluids and dousing espeon's paws. It felt like stepping in a slush puddle in the middle of winter. Uncomfortable, but oddly invigorating. “How does it feel?" she asked.

“It's amazing." Espeon got up. She was standing in the puddle. It started running down the drain, making her realize she'd plugged it with her body. She splashed her forepaws in it a bit, getting them all wet too. “Do you want to try?"

Glaceon sniffed at the puddle. “I guess so." She lay down on her back. Espeon squatted, pressing their pussies together, and released her aching bladder. Ffwssssss... It gushed out, flooding over her sister's crotch. “Mmmm..." she said. “That's nice and warm!"

“How about this?" Flareon took her place next, but just the smallest spurt made the ice-type whine in pain as her genitals were scalded with a super effective critical hit of Water Gun. The fire-type ignored her protests and drenched her belly in urine as well, then sprayed the shower wall.

“Oww! I told you that was too hot!" Glaceon got up, shaking and dripping. “Now it's your turn."

Flareon gulped. “Do I have to? It really stinks in here. And you know us fire-types hate getting wet – aargh! Hey! Cut that out!" Espeon telekinetically yanked her off her feet and splashed her down in the puddle. “Yuck! Oh god it's soaking into my fur! Okay, I'm wet now, are you happy?"

“No!" Glaceon growled. “I think you cooked me! The least you can do is put up with a little frostbite."

Espeon held Flareon in place while Glaceon squatted over her. “Ahh..." the ice-type blasted her sister's genitals with a jet of icy piss, then lowered her crotch down onto her fluffy belly, soaking her fur and squishing her slightly steamed rump into it. The cold must have soothed her a little, but it left Flareon shivering and apologizing.

“Do you think you can warm me up?" she asked pleadingly. Espeon gladly obliged.

But even after several rounds of hot and cold, the trio's bladders seemed just as full as they'd ever been. They'd grown more adventurous. Espeon had let her sisters blast her nipples with alternating jets of freezing and burning liquid, and they'd soaked her flanks and shoulders too. The freezing cold and boiling hot liquid felt so good against her skin. She wondered if... if...

“Guys?" she asked. “I know this sounds gross, but... do you think it would feel good on my... my head?"

Flareon grinned. “There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

“I guess so."

“Are you suuuure you wanna try that?" Glaceon asked.

“Not really," Espeon admitted. “But I'm curious."

“Don't say we didn't warn you if you hate it." Flareon pinned her down on her side and straddled her head. Espeon closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable. She rubbed her sex with her tail, whimpering in anticipation.

“Well, either piss or get off me! I thought you said you weren't done yet – ack!" FSSSSSSS... A hot, steaming stream gushed over her. The espeon winced and held her breath as nearly scalding liquid soaked her fur on her cheek and ran down over her muzzle. Flareon was going like a faucet. Her head felt like a boiled lobster. So hot... so, so hot! She finally climbed off. Espeon rolled onto her stomach, gasping for air. She crawled blindly through the puddle of urine, and shook herself until she was sure none would get in her eyes, despite the complaints of her fire-type sister as she was sprayed.

“How was it?" Glaceon asked.

“Good. But I feel overheated now."

“I think I can help with that." Glaceon stood up and planted her front paws against the small soap shelf at the end of the shower. She spread her hind legs wide and curled her tail up. Espeon crawled under her, staring in an almost awestruck feeling at her drenched fur. She brushed her ear against the ice-type's vulva. Almost immediately she began to pee. The frigid urine hit her already wet fur and immediately soaked through. It was uncomfortable at first, then refreshing. Then the stream hit the gem on her forehead.

“Aaahhh! Fuck! Brain freeze!" Espeon wriggled back, shuddering and pressing her muzzle down into the cold puddle. She took big, panting breaths through her mouth.

“Sorry," said Glaceon. Espeon couldn't reply. She just crawled back under Glaceon's dripping pussy. Her hips bucked as she rubbed her sex with her tail. Something dripped into her mouth. Something salty, and slightly bitter. But the part of her brain responsible for self preservation and hygiene seemed to have been short-circuited by the blast of icy liquid. She licked her lips, and nuzzled Glaceon's soggy, dripping crotch.

“Ew... are you licking? That's all wet. Stop... I still have to pee."

“Yuck, what a perv!" Flareon commented. “She's not stopping. Just go in her mouth, maybe that'll teach her a lesson."

Glaceon whimpered. A bubbling stream of cold saline filled Espeon's mouth. Ice water... so cold... she let it fill her maw and spill out over her molars, then lowered her head and let Glaceon's stream wash over her face again. She'd just had so much water. Why was she thirsty? She put her mouth to the source again. Cold and refreshing. She swallowed.

“Ugh, what the fuck? Are you seriously drinking it?" Flareon asked.

“It's... not that bad actually," Espeon gasped. Then a second, even more intense brain freeze hit her. “Aaah! So cooooold..." She crumpled and rolled on her back. Her head throbbed with the icy pain.

“Want me to warm you up?"

“Please..."

Flareon obligingly straddled her and sat down on her face. Her thighs were so warm and damp... this was blissful.

“Mmmff... your nose is so cold." Flareon grunted. “Eep, and your tongue's worse!"

A spurt of hot, salty pee splashed her in the face. Acckhghk! You scalded my tongue!" It felt numb from the heat, but the taste was even stronger than Glaceon's. “Now I know how our trainer feels when he doesn't wait for his coffee to cool down!"

“Hey, if you can't take the heat, get out of the shower!" Flareon marked her with a few more spurts. The last one hit her pussy again, making Espeon shriek and writhe in pleasure.

“You okay?"

“Yes! I'm so close! Oww! It hurts, but..."

“You seriously like the taste?" Glaceon asked.

“Yeah..."

“Okay. You've got me curious about it too." Espeon suddenly felt a cold nose snuffling at her genitals, then a wet tongue. She gasped, and involuntarily let out another spurt. Glaceon helped and pulled back, coughing.

“Wow," she said. Her face was dripping. She grimaced, then spat out now-cold liquid onto Espeon's belly. “I guess you're right. It tastes kinda... fun."

“You two are disgusting," said Flareon.

“Don't judge it 'til you've tried it." Glaceon tackled her.

“Ugh, you're dripping on me!" Flareon pawed at her, and weakly tried to push her off, but her heart clearly wasn't in it. Glaceon leaned down and licked her sister's nose. “Fuck! You are so gross!" she said, and bit her cheek... which wrung quite a bit of pee out of her fur.

“...Huh. You're right, I guess it does taste okay."

“Good, 'cuz here's some more" She turned around and sat on her sister's face. Espeon watched with some amusement as Flareon struggled, then let out a choking gurgle. A puddle spread around her head.

“Fuckglgclk!" Flareon gurgled. “Stop quenching me..."

Espeon decided to rescue her sister. It was clear from the relieved look on Glaceon's face that her bladder was still very full. “Come on, guys, I said I was close! Can't you finish me off?"

The fire-type and ice-type lapped at Espeon's privates until she soaked their faces, then marked her with their own streams. Espeon was desperate now. Starting and stopping her relief over and over was making her bladder ache even though it wasn't quite as full, and everything was so hot, and cold, and wet! She writhed in the puddle, furiously rubbing herself with her tailtips. The other two eeveelutions climbed on top of her and took turns sitting on her head and her crotch. Spurt after spurt of freezing and burning urine soaked her. Poor Espeon was shivering from cold and panting from heat at the same time. Even after the streams stopped her wet fur held the intoxicating discomfort against her skin. The pair mounted her one more time, this time face to face. Espeon whimpered at the icy touch of Glaceon's folds, and panted in the sweltering sauna between Flareon's sopping thighs. So close, so close! The two of them were licking each other's faces while they rode her.

“Ugh, your breath smells like piss!" Flareon complained, and released a scalding flood that made the previous streams look like a trickle. Glaceon followed suit with an icy torrent, drenching Espeon's crotch and tail. So hot! So cold! Her head spun. She nuzzled her face deep into Flareon's crotch and opened her mouth. That burned so good... The flow stopped and started, but she kept licking, savoring every drop of the burning hot liquid that went down her throat. Her hips bucked and shuddered. Freezing... burning...

“Mmmmgglblgggllggligglg!" Espeon gurgled. Her climax melted all the tension in her body, and soothed the heat drenching her face. Somehow being numbed by the cold made the pleasure feel even more intense, but she sobbed from the flood of emotional release. Flareon's piping hot pee filled her mouth, burned her tongue and nose, and warmed her from the inside. She released her own bladder for real, but her powers sent the torrent of liquid swirling around, pouring down on all three of their bodies like warm golden rain. Too hot down her throat, too cold flooding her crotch, just right raining down on her and running down her sisters' bodies. “Ahhglgllggglb!"

Flareon and Glaceon finally climbed off. Espeon blinked urine out of her eyes and saw her two companions standing there, dripping. All three pokemon were soaked. Flareon glared and whapped her on the cheek with a wet paw. “I thought being on top would make me safe from you pervs!" she grumbled, but then lay down in the puddle. “Do you think there's time for me to try being on the bottom before our trainer gets home? You sounded like you enjoyed being drowned."

“Sure," Espeon said, and licked her face. “As long as we drink enough."

Day 16: Public

Today, a doe went to a concert. She drank several pints of overpriced beer without a care for how soon all that liquid would have to come back out, only to find to her doeish dismay that the line for the ladies' room was, as useful for concerts, a mile long. She stood there for song after song, until her hooves ached and her bladder ached worse, but she was still far from the bathroom door. She started to dance, out of sync with the music, pressing her thighs close together. This was an emergency now. Any minute she was going to wet her panties and skinny jeans!

When she started to whimper in pain, the woman ahead of her turned around in concern. She was a punk skunk, wearing a studded collar and several piercings, as well as fraying jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt. She had a fetching bright purple streak dyed in her hair and her fluffy tail.

“You okay?" asked the skunk.

“Not really!" the doe confessed. “Umm... do you think I could go ahead of you? It's an emergency. If you really have to go too I understand, but -"

“Yeah, I can see that. Ahh, man... you can, I guess, but I don't think it'll make a difference. Look at how long the line is!"

The doe looked, and whimpered despairingly. Maybe a few others would take pity on her, but there was no way it would get her to the bathroom in time. “You're right. Thank you anyway. I guess I'll... what do I do?"

The skunk stepped closer. “I can't make the line go any faster, but here's something that might help." From her large purse she produced a pink plastic funnel with a flexible tube at the end. “You can borrow my SheWee. It lets you pee standing up without getting it all over your legs. You could use a urinal..." The skunk looked over at the line for the men's room, where a bull and a boar where arguing, shoving each other, and pawing at the ground. It was a mile long too. “Never mind. I think we'll have to find someplace else to go."

The two of them looked around for a potted plant, a trash can, or any other suitable receptacle, but there were none in sight. Well, there were a few, but all of them already had at least one and possibly several desperate furs shamelessly pissing or vomiting in them, and a long line waiting to do the same. The doe felt a little bit leak out into her panties. She bleated in distress, and pressed her hand between her legs. The skunkette's eyes widened, sparkling in the reflected light of hundreds of strobes, floodlights, and raised cell phones. “Jeez, you're really about to explode, aren't you?"

“Yes!"

To the doe's surprise and shock, the skunk crouched down in front of her. At first she thought she was going to pee on the floor, but then she sat down on it and leaned back. The venue carpet was damp with spilled booze and stains she hoped were spilled booze. The skunk handed the doe the funnel and held the other end of the SheWee to her mouth. “Here. Desperate times call for desperate measures."

“I - what?" the doe gasped.

“Don't worry, I know public urination's illegal but nobody here's gonna narc ya out! Girl code, ya know? When ya gotta go, ya gotta go!"

The doe fidgeted with her pants button. “But... in your mouth?"

“Pee's sterile, isn't it? Besides, it'll probably taste better than the beer they serve here. It's me or the floor. Just try to not to be a total fire hose, I can only chug so fast!"

The doe was too desperate to argue, but she wept at the sheer generosity this total stranger was showing her. Right there in the middle of a bathroom line in a crowded concert hall, she dropped her pants and panties to her knees, held the funnel to her groin, and opened the floodgates. Several pints of overpriced beer, quite possibly improved by being filtered through her kidneys, blasted against the funnel. There was no hope of being discrete: the noise of her stream spraying against the plastic echoed throughout the venue, and she had the bad fortune to let loose during a lull in the music and applause. Dozens of heads turned. Dozens of people were watching her publicly urinating in a stranger's mouth. The skunk gagged and gurgled. Her eyes rolled back in her head, but her throat began to pulse. The level of liquid in the funnel rose and fell, but it never quite overflowed. The doe couldn't believe it. She was actually drinking her piss. She was drinking all of it. Despite her best efforts liquid was flooding out of her at a prodigious rate, but somehow the skunk was keeping up.

“Yikes. What a couple of sluts," a cat said cattily. “Look at them. I'm totally posting this on TikTok."

“Shut up, you're just jealous your friends wouldn't do that for you," said one of her friends.

“When you gotta go you gotta go," somebody said. “Girl code, form a circle round them."

Safely surrounded by a dozen other women who understood the position she was in, the doe blissfully emptied her bladder even further, but forgot to aim, and peed all over her hand, as well as the skunk's shirt. “Oops! Sorry!" she said. The skunk was too busy gargling her inexorable flow of piss to speak, but gave her a thumbs up.

At last, her bladder emptied, and she helped her new friend to her feet. Not only had she been saved from peeing her pants, but she'd experienced the most erotic thing that had ever happened to her at a concert.

“Thank you so much!" she hugged the skunkette, heedless of the wetness of her shirt.

“Don't mention it. You really did taste better than the beer. And that's quite a view too." She giggled. “Man, you really held in a lot!"

“You really drank a lot!" giggled the doe. Then a horrible thought occurred to her. “Umm... I hope you don't want me to reciprocate. I'd do it for you if I could, but I don't think it's been long enough since my last beer. I don't think I could keep it all down."

“That's okay." The skunk tucked the funnel back into her purse. “Just hold this for a second." And to the doe's astonishment, she started pissing her pants right there in front of everyone. Her jeans were soaked, completely flooded with an endless river of liquid. “I guess I couldn't make it to the bathroom."

Without even washing their hands, the doe and the skunk abandoned the bathroom line and went back to the doe's seat, where the soggy skunk sat on the doe's lap. The doe didn't mind getting wet, because she wouldn't even have to leave her seat when she had to pee again. And they only had to buy one more beer for the rest of the show: after draining the cup, they just took turns giving each other free refills.

Day 17: Threesome or Moresome

Today, Tanner's wife finally agreed to a threesome. Well, a foursome. The rabbit had been bringing up the subject for months, but Angela's response was always vague and noncommital. “I'll think about it," or “maybe someday" was as far as it went. A month ago it became an argument, with the red panda accusing him of having a double standard where he expected her to be okay with him inviting another woman into her bedroom when he'd never let another man into his. This, Tanner vehemently denied, and insisted he was secure enough in his masculinity and in their relationship to be fine with that. She challenged him to put his money where his mouth was and compromise: they could have a threesome like he wanted, but it had to be with a guy. Tanner protested that this wasn't a fair compromise to have a threesome with someone he wasn't attracted to, and she pointed out that he was asking the same of her. She had him there. Pointing out that she'd dated a woman in college ended poorly, and Tanner found out something he'd never known about the downstairs anatomy of hyena ladies.

After a night in the guest room for her and a night on the couch for him (leaving the bedroom empty), they finally reached a compromise: they could have a foursome, but she got to pick the other participants, and he had to fulfill a fantasy of hers to be disclosed at the time of the rendezvous. After weeks of searching a swinger forum, she announced that she'd found a match, and that night, after Tanner came home from work, Angela was waiting for him in the nude. Tanner joined her in disrobing, but before anything else could happen, there was a knock at the door, and she told him to wait on the bed. She returned to the bedroom with a triumphant grin, followed by a handsome male cross-fox and a tall, curvy mountain lion who looked down at Tanner, and in particular at his crotch, with an unnervingly predatory smirk before introducing herself as Ramira Maxwell and her husband as Lucas.

It started off as everything he'd ever dreamed it would be, and more. Sure, at first it was awkward sitting there on the bed trying to make small talk while they were all completely naked, but they were hot. Tanner thought Lucas was better looking than him, and better endowed too, but far from being threatened by the fox he found himself making an exception to his heterosexuality. It helped that Ramira clearly had her husband wrapped around her little claw. He watched whimpering from the corner while Ramira pinned Tanner down and rode him, then practically held the fox down on top of Angela. And he had to admit, jacking off another male onto his wife's face, or having the reverse done to him, was a lot hotter than it sounded.

But that all changed when Tanner learned just what the fantasy Angela wanted fulfilled was.

“A marking fetish?" he repeated, astounded. “You mean, like... territory marking? With pee?"

“Yeah." Ramira looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Okay, no offense, this has been fun, but ruining the furniture's or the floor's a bit too far. If we were doing this at your place, whatever, it's your stuff, but I did say no permanent property damage... right Angela, honey? Well, I guess there's the deck chairs out back, we could wash those off afterward."

Lucas chuckled like he'd made a joke, and the cougar bared her teeth and leaned forward in his face. Her muzzle and whiskers were crusted with semen from more than one source. “Oh, I don't mean marking furniture, you silly bunny. Other than this bed, but that's already taken care of." She patted the mattress. It crinkled with the motion of a waterproof cover Tanner had almost forgotten about. It had been there ever since the romantic evening with glasses of red wine incident three years prior.

It took him a moment to process what she meant. “What the fuck? Do you mean marking each other?"

Angela nodded sweetly and caressed his cheek. “Yes."

“You've got to be kidding me! You want me to get pissed on? Or watch you get pissed on? That's your secret fantasy?"

“You didn't veto it. Your only vetos were no property damage, nothing that could get the cops called, no injury besides bruises, and no butt stuff."

“Yeah, but I didn't even think of this because I didn't think anyfur even liked it!" Tanner stood up to his unimpressive height on the mattress and declared: “This is exactly the kind of thing Meatloaf was sinking about! I would do anything for love, but..." he looked down into his wife's green eyes. She looked so beautiful. Pee? Really? On each other? “Okay, fine, I will do that. But just this once, for you." The truth was, he hated confrontation, and having an argument in front of their partners like this would just be so awkward and embarrassing that submitting to being pissed on actually seemed preferable.

But Tanner soon got cold feet as he watched Lucas take aim at Angela while she lay on her back in bed. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to this. But even if he wanted to stop what was about to happen, he couldn't: he was trapped in Ramira's lap, held firmly in place by her muscular arms. His wife lay on her stomach in bed, her long, fluffy tail swishing sultrily from side to side. The fox stood beside the bed, and gave Tanner a wink as he took aim. “Don't worry. I'll mark you after I'm done with her, then you'll both have my scent."

“That's what I was afraid of," muttered Tanner. He watched with held breath and growing horror. A spurt of yellow liquid flew from the tip of the cross fox's member and sprayed Angela's butt. Golden droplets clung to her gorgeous red fur. Lucas staked his claim on her thigh, and her fluffy tail, then moved his stream northward again. He splashed her arched back, then her shoulders. Then, he gave Tanner a smug smirk of victory and let out a stream of piss against the back of her head.

“God... Angela, you're all wet. You're really letting him do that to you?"

Angela rolled onto her back. The red panda had a blissful smile on her face. “Don't forget you're next, honey. This feels great." She rubbed herself with her fingers, then withdrew her hand as Lucas aimed the next spurt of his musky urine right at her sex. “Ahhh - I've wanted you to do this to me for years."

Lucas soaked her breasts, next, then... Tanner could barely watch. Her face? Even her face? And her mouth? Why was she opening it? This fox was using her as casually as a urinal, and Tanner felt like a guy peering over the divider. She swallowed. Tanner felt a lump in his throat. He felt a primal urge to protect his mate, and towel her off, but he also felt suddenly repulsed. All these years she'd wanted to be peed on? Had he ever really known her? No, that was stupid, it was just a kink. A weird, gross one, but he was the one who kept asking for a threesome. Now he was paying the price. Lucas climbed onto the bed and stood there, his cock still dripping. He patted Tanner's head condescendingly. “Feeling thirsty yet, Bunny Boy?"

Tanner thought maybe after the amount of urine Lucas had voided all over Angela, he meant Tanner had to give him a blowjob. Which he guessed he could give a try. But instead, a deep yellow stream leapt from the cross fox's dickhole, just as vigorous as before. Hot, pungent liquid washed over Tanner's chest and rained down on his crotch. He was soaking him, totally soaking him. This should have been completely disgusting, but he was getting hard from it! He guessed he could put up with this, for Angela's sake. She was masturbating as she watched. He could be brave for her.

Lucas suddenly raised his aim, showering Tanner's face in warm piss. Fuck, never mind! The rabbit thrashed around, trying to get away from the soaking, but Ramira's grip was like iron. It stopped. Tanner coughed, and looked defiantly up at the fox. “Okay, there, you marked me. Fuck, your pee stinks, dude. Can I wash my face now?"

“I'm not done yet," the fox said. Tanner felt Ramira's clawed handpaw stroking up and down his shaft.

“Aren't you thirsty, bunny?" she said, letting the sharp tips of her claws brush his sensitive skin. “Don't worry, urine's mostly sterile.

“It tastes pretty good, actually," said Angela. She reached up and rubbed Lucas's thigh.

The stream began again, a thin, laser-straight jet of fox piss blasting against Tanner's lips. Despite his disgust, he felt some buried instinct to submit his life to the predator. He opened his mouth.

What the fuck was she talking about? This tasted horrible! No wonder they compared bad booze to piss. His tongue quickly went numb though. He shuddered, but accepted his fate and let it spill out the sides of his mouth.

Ramira finally let him go and crawled up to her husband, purring as he pushed the final few spurts out on her face. Angela, for her part, wrapped her arms around Tanner and kissed him. She was soaking wet. They both were. But he felt a little better about being marked now. It was true, they both had Lucas's foxy scent all over their fur. She pulled him down onto the bed. Ramira squatted over them, and with a sinister feline growl, said: “Now it's my turn."

The cougress released an acrid yellow waterfall that soaked Angela's head to the skin, then turned her attention to Tanner. She doused him in a torrent of foul cat piss. “Dirty boy..." she purred. “Better swallow if you know what's good for you."

“Yes! Make him swallow!" Angela laughed, kicking her legs up and down.

“I feel betrayed," Tanner groaned. The cougress straddled his face. He felt her whiskers brush against his dick and immediately tensed. Then her tongue touched him. She was so much taller she had to crane her neck, and soon switched to using her hand, but kept rubbing his dick against her breasts. Between her legs, there was no way he could stay faithful to Angela. Her sleek brown fur, the succulent curves of her ass and tail, the glistening pink folds. He began to lick. FFwwsshhh! And on came the faucet. He choked and spluttered on her salty urine. Horrible, tongue-numbing... this was for Angela. Glick! He swallowed. Her stream waxed and waned. The flow stopped, but Lucas was showering his wife in another foxy stream. “What the fuck? How big is your bladder?"

“Hers is a lot bigger," sad the cross fox. And sure enough, Ramira began to gush another flood of her acrid mark. She returned her profane attentions to Angela, drenching the panda in a geyser of cougar piss. Angela laughed and tried to cover herself against the stream. Out of husbandly instinct, Tanner tried to shield her with his body, but Ramira just laughed and shoved him down on the sodden bed. He was perhaps saved from being drowned only because Lucas distracted her with another spurt of piss right in the face. She tackled her husband, squatted over his face, and opened the floodgates, drenching every inch of the fox's body.

With all four furs now soaked in piss, the amorous encounter continued. Tanner's bladder was painfully full now, and he was about to excuse himself to the bathroom, but Angela settled down on top of him. She didn't seem comfortable: in fact, she was doing a potty dance herself, but he didn't want to ask her to move and ruin this moment, until he could take it no more.

“Sweetie, can you let me up? I have to pee!" he said.

“Oh! You do?" Angela hastily climbed off and rolled over, but when he tried to head for the bathroom she grabbed his hand.

“Not there," she said. “Aren't you going to mark me?"

Tanner sniffed her still-wet fur. It reeked of piss, bearing both feline and vulpine strong, musky scents. A primal instinct arose within him. He could not let his mate be claimed by others. He had to cover her in his own scent. It felt so wrong and degrading to just pee on his wife and treat her like a toilet, but he knew deep down it was right. Fffsss... his stream foamed and hissed against her beautiful red fur. Yellow rivulets flowed down her body. He pissed right against her vulva, making the red panda gasp in pleasure. He saw Lucas and Ramira looking expectantly at him, so he gave them each a quick shower. They were guests in his house after all. They should bare his scent too. Then he returned his stream to his made, hosing down her face in golden liquid. She caught some in her hand and splashed it in her face, then opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and let her maw fill to the brim with a foaming golden lake.

This proved to be his undoing, as Tanner's bladder was barely empty when he was tackled into the lake of piss on the mattress by a sopping wet panda. She beamed down at him, her face and hair dripping urine onto him. She licked his muzzle. God, even soaked in piss, she was as beautiful as the day they met. “I love you," he murmured, and put his arms around her. She dipped her crotch onto his, but changed her mind after a couple teasing rubs.

“I love you too," she said. “I'm glad you talked me into this." Her smile became a look of blissful relief, and a warm, gentle waterfall poured down over his erect member. “Mmm... maybe I can hold it a little longer." She crawled back and wrapped her lips around his soggy dick. “Mmm... yummy bunny."

Lucas took the opportunity to mount her while she sucked him off, and Ramira drenched her face in another yellow flood, but after that the other couple were busy with each other. Angela crawled onto him again and turned herself around until she was on top off him with his head between her legs, just where he belonged.

“You're about to get really wet," she warned. “Unless you drink it. Are you okay with that?"

“For you, I'd drink gallons of your pee," Tanner said romantically, nuzzling and sniffing her crotch.

“Good, because I really drank a lot this evening." Angela released the flood that had been brewing all night. Pale yellow pee poured from the panda's pussy like a faucet, drenching Tanner's face. He lapped, slurped, and gulped. This was so much better than the cougar or fox's. Her pee had a taste that was salty, but not really offensive. Maybe that meant they were soulmates. All he knew was that the foursome was thrilling, but it had only made him love her more than ever. He was glad to be marked by his true love. Fffwwwshhh... her golden river flowed, and flowed, and flowed, filling his mouth, running down his face, and pooling under his head. He let out a gurgling moan of ecstasy, and came in her mouth.

“Man, I'm tired," Angela groaned a minute later as the four of them lay on the piss-drenched bed. “Didn't realize how much getting tag teamed takes it out of you."

“I think I have an idea," said Tanner. “How about we wait to shower until morning."

Day 18: Spanking

Today, you finally caught one of the deer that have plagued your garden all year red-handed. Or red mouthed, since the evidence of her wanton crimes against your tomato harvest is smeared all over her lips. You're at your wits' end. You've tried fencing, you've tried bad tasting sprays, you've tried airhorns, you've tried motion-activated sprinklers, you've tried playing recordings of bears and mountain lions, and you've even borrowed taxidermy heads from your neighbor and put them on your walls in positions where they're clearly visible from outdoors. But every method of deer deterrence has failed. Sometimes you scare them away, but they just come right back as soon as you leave.

Your yard is a crime scene. They've wreaked havoc on your hostas, they've brutalized your begonias, they've decimated your daylilies, they've ruined your rosebushes, they've annhilated your azaleas, and they've vandalized your vegetable garden repeatedly, all year long. And now, just one day before you were ready to harvest your heirloom tomatoes, they've struck again. To make matters worse, they were on a screened-in patio, but the boldest of the herd, the ringleader of those hooligans, simply smashed through the screen door. The trespassing has escalated. If you don't put a stop to this now, you fear for the safety of even the ficus tree in your living room. In short, you've been driven beyond the point of reason. That damned doe had it coming!

When you witnessed the carnage on your patio, you were possessed by the fury only a man who's been wronged for months with no hope of justice from the municipal authorities can possess. You charged from the house in your underwear, swearing your vengeance to the heavens and brandishing the first object that came to hand, which happened to be a ping pong paddle from the table in your rec room. The deer, despite their boldness, bolted as usual. Most of them escape, easily clearing the 8 foot tall fence you just spent thousands of dollars on, but the ringleader went in the stupidest direction possible, knocking over planters, shattering your patio table, and making another huge hole in the screen before tearing across your yard. But she got one front leg tangled in the ruined screen, and this must have thrown her off her parkour game, because instead of vaulting the fence like normal she charged straight into it at full speed and firmly wedged herself between the metal bars.

At first, you just laugh at her misfortune. It's such a comical piece of karmic slapstick that you just stand there in your hard, guffawing. “Not so smart now, are you, you stupid animal?" you say. The doe looks back at you through the fence with an expression of sheer terror mixed with embarrassment. The rest of the herd laugh too, as they watch from a safe distance: still on your property, but beyond the fence which oh so badly failed to protect your plants. It is quite a comical position. She's bent two of the bars apart, but it seems that she's been so well-fed by the proceeds of her innumerable crimes that her hips were just too wide for the gap. Now she's trapped with her chest down in the grass and her rump held high in the air by the fencing. Her back hooves can't even touch the ground. She's completely helpless, flashing that white tailed rump at you.

“Fuck!" she bleats. “Who put that fence here? I don't think these bars meet building code!"

You look at the doe's butt. You look at the ping pong paddle still clutched in your fist. You look at her butt. You look at the ping pong paddle. An idea takes shape in your rage fueled brain. “You fucked up now!" you growl, stomping towards the stranded cervid. “I'm gonna make an example out of you!"

You immediately get kicked in the balls by a powerful hoof. You keel over, cursing in falsetto. That fucking deer has the nerve to laugh at you, too. But that only fuels your rage. As soon as you recover, you tie her hind legs together at the ankle with garden twine, and tie those to the fence.

“What are you gonna do with that paddle?" the doe seems to finally appreciate the gravity of the predicament she's landed herself in. You don't reply, only raise it to the heavens and wave it in the air, making sure the other deer get a good look. “Uh oh. Guys? Guys come on, help me out here!"

“This is for my tomatoes!" you snarl, and bring the paddle down with vengeful intent. WHAP! The doe squeals in pain, and her rump ripples with the force of the blow. “This is for my hostas!" WHAP! “This is for my roses! This is for my begonias! This is for my daylilies! And this is for my fucking patio table!" You put some extra vehemence into that swing. That table was expensive.

“Owwwwwww! Stop!" the doe pleads for mercy. “If you're gonna spank me like this, at least buy me dinner first!"

“Shut up! Who the fuck do you think paid for all those tomatoes you've been snacking on?" you bellow, and give her rump a vigorous open-palmed slap.

“Yeeooww! What the fuck is wrong with you? Who gets this mad about a few plants? Seriously, enroll in anger management classes!"

“I manage my anger by gardening!" you roar. “And you've ruined it! You've been ruining it all year! So now I'm going to ruin your ass!"

You wail on that doe's backside, venting all your pent up anger about every single indignity in your suburban life: traffic, work, HOA fees, and of course the violation of your source of inner peace. Soon the doe has run out of witty retorts and is reduced to choking sobs and pleas for mercy. The ping pong paddle breaks, but you keep spanking her with bare hands.

The commotion eventually attracts the commotion of your neighbor. A balding head rises above your side fence. Your head swivels around like The Exorcist. You leer at your neighbor with a slasher-esque grin. “Oh, hey Bill!"

There you are, drenched in sweat, wearing nothing but your tighty whities, with a wild animal stuck in your fence, grasping her hind leg while you brutally spank her white-furred bottom. Your neighbor Bill considers the situation.

“Is that a deer?"

“Yeah."

“What are you doing to it?"

“She's a naughty doe!" you snarl with a demented cackle. “A naughty doe deserves a spanking!"

“Is that one of that herd that's been terrorizing the neighborhood? My rhododendron bushes are trashed, and they even knocked my bird bath over!"

You look at the doe. “Better answer quick!" you raise your hand threateningly.

“Yes!" she blubbers. “And I smashed the garden gnomes, and did you know what to the lawn flamingos!"

Bill's face hardened. “My God..." he says. “I've got a shovel in my garage that'd be just the thing. You can borrow it if you give me a few whacks."

“Be my guest."

“Cool. You still coming to the potluck on Saturday?"

“Yup."

“What'cha bringing?"

You give the doe another slap. “Tenderized venison. Ha ha, just kidding, it's potato salad."

It's a lightweight shovel, with a wide, square blade and a sturdy fiberglass handle. It's easy on the hands and hard on the doe's ass. Bill takes his appointed swings, then returns to pruning his garden while you avenge yours. Out of neighborly consideration, you set Bill's shovel aside after a while and return to using your bare hands, but the poor doe's buttocks are so badly bruised by then that you no longer need yard equipment to bring severe pain to her tender deer rear.

“Noooooo!" she sobs. “Stooooooop! No more!" The doe starts urinating, a slow, inexorable dribble of yellow liquid soaking her tail and running down her trembling legs.

“You disgusting animal!" you shout. “Do you think pissing all over yourself's going to get you out of your spanking? Well think again!"

“I'm sorrr-rrr-rr – hic! - rrry!" she blubbers. “I didn't mean to, it's just coming out!"

You give her one more smack, then stand back and watch the doe wet herself. Your arm's getting tired, and you guess being beaten until she pees herself is a sufficiently humiliating punishment. Man, she must have really had to go. It just keeps coming, and coming, and coming. Thanks to the position she's in it runs down all over her belly and chest too. The doe gives a moan that doesn't seem quite as pained as before.

You stand there, panting from the exertion of spanking her. You come to your senses a little, and start to feel sorry for the animal.

“Have you learned your lesson?" you say sternly. “Stay out of my fucking garden, and tell all your friends to do the same."

“Y-yes s-s-sir!" the doe whimpers.

“Good." You give her rump one more, gentle pat.

“Owwwwwww!"

“Now you're just milking it."

“It's tender!" she complains.

You try to untie her legs, but find the twine is now soaked with urine and swollen. Yuck! You have to cut it off her with garden shears. Then, taking firm hold of her hips, you attempt to pull her free of the fence. You tug, and tug, and tug, but she won't budge. You try again, throwing all your weight into it. With a creak of metal and a surprised bleat the doe comes free. But after such intense spanking her hind legs are too sore to bear her weight. She stumbles backward, you both lose your balance, and you fall flat on your back. The grass cushions your fall, and your crotch cushions hers.

“Oooh... it hurts so bad!" the doe whimpers. Fwwsssss... you can feel your briefs getting soaked in warm liquid. She looks back at you with a horrified, ashamed expression. “Fuck, I'm so sorry!"

“What the fuck! Get off me now!" you try to push the doe away, but only succeed in scooting her ass forward. It rubs against you. Through the fabric of your soaked boxers, it's... stimulating. You give her another shove, but it only makes it worse.

“Stop rushing me! My legs are so weak I can't stand up!" the doe complains. The flow of urine into your lap has stopped, but now your body is doing something just as involuntary. You try to pretend it isn't happening, and hope your erection goes down before the doe stands up and sees it. But she suddenly looks back at you with a truly mortified blush.

“What the fuck? Do you have a boner right now?"

“No!" you lie. But it's hopeless to deny it now. You can feel your manhood pressing forcefully into her rump, and as tender and sensitive as that particular portion of her anatomy must be right now, you know she must be able to feel it too. With a great effort she stands up, her hindquarters dripping. She stares down at your tented boxer shorts. As wet as they are, they leave little to the imagination. You're too mortified to move a muscle. Even trying to conceal your crotch with your hands would leave them wet with her foul urine.

“Were you getting off to spanking me?"

You hastily explain yourself. “What? No, I don't even like you! This is just... blood pressure from lying down suddenly. All the blood rushes down there! This happens when I go to bed all the time!" Your face is flushed the color of your recently departed tomatoes. You have been looking at her rump, which is admittedly somewhat thicc, for a while, watching her furry cheeks ripple with each blow, but you could never confess to feeling any kind of attraction for your mortal enemy.

“You liar! I should've known!" she says haughtily, raising her white tail (now a bit yellow stained). Her vulva and anus are raw, swollen, and not far off tomato colored themselves. You wince. Maybe you went a bit too far. “My butt wasn't the only thing you were spanking, were you? You sick fuck!"

“That's not true and you know it! You've been looking back at me the whole time! This only happened because you sat on me! Now get the fuck out of my hard before I spank you even harder for pissing on me!"

“Oh don't worry, I won't let the gate hit me in the ass on the way out!" she huffs. The doe sizes up your fence. She shuffles back, preparing for a massive leap, without even climbing off you first. “Enjoy your precious garden, you pathetic manchild!" she crouches, her athletic hind legs tense, but she only makes it a few inches into the air. “Owwww! Oh fuck! Cramp!" she gasps. Her thighs quiver, and before you can do anything her knees buckle and she collapses onto you. You yell in horror as you watch her deer-ierre descending directly towards your face. Then your vision is blotted out by warm, damp fur. Thump.

“EEUURRRRMMMFFFF!" you shout, beating her backside with flailing fists. “Geddurrfff!" Unfortunately it's at this very moment that her bladder involuntarily releases another spurt of urine, right into your mouth. The horrific, acrid, salty taste makes you recoil with such strength that you dislodge the doe and send her tumbling to the ground, while you sit up, dripping and spitting. Your eyes are stinging from the foul liquid. “Goddamnit it got in my mouth!" you splutter. “That does it... you won't be able to sit down for a month when I'm done with you!"

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she bleats, crawling away in a panic. “Please have mercy! It was an accident, and my butt can't take any more!"

“Mercy?" you say with a mocking sneer. “You destroy my garden... you destroy my patio table... you destroy my porch screen... you piss on my face, and you think you deserve mercy?" You consider the pitiful sight. She wets herself a little more from fear. She does have a point. Her ass has already been so badly bruised she can barely walk. Further spankings wouldn't make it much worse, and you'd rather just wash the doe piss off your face and have her out of your life and yard for good. Fine. Just leave. I'll open the fucking gate, just get out. I never want to see your face in my yard again."

The doe gulps. She blushes, and her ears fold flat. “Um, about that... I have some bad news."

“What?"

“When a buck tastes a doe's urine during breeding season, under deer law that makes them legally married. And it started last week."

“What the fuck?" You wring the life out of thin air with your hands. “No way. You're fucking lying."

“You can look it up if you want."

“Then I want a divorce. Or an annulment."

“Deer law doesn't have divorces or annulments."

“I'm not a fucking deer."

“It doesn't matter. Deer law covers interspecies marriage. You're stuck with me now. I legally have free reign over your entire yard, including eating whatever plants I want."

“Oh, no."

“And your house." She staggers to her feet and limps towards the destroyed porch. You can only watch in abject dismay as she hobbles through the sliding glass door, which you left wide open in your hasty pursuit.

“What are you doing? Get the fuck out of my house!"

The doe hikes her tail up again with a haughty glare. “It's our house now, dumbass." She releases a dribbling golden stream that patters onto your rec room carpet. You gawk, speechless, at the spreading dark stain. “Oh, and as soon as my butt feels better, you're going to have some stagly duties to take care of."

“What are you doing to my floor? You naughty doe! Don't think you're getting out of being punished for that!" You storm into the house and brandish the other ping pong paddle, then throw it back onto the table. But instead of cringing away, the doe smiles and presents her aching backside, showing you the raw, bruised state of it. You curse and throw the paddle back down on the table. “No, it won't do anything now."

“Well, I wouldn't mind another spanking later, just as long as you're not quite as rough," says the doe. There's a liquid more clear and viscous than her urine dripping from her bruised pussy. “Right now... I suppose I have doe-ly duties as well." She staggers towards you, pushing you down onto the cough, and prods at your tented, wet boxers with a hoof. She licks her lips, which are still stained with tomato juice, making it a little disconcerting. “I have to help you take care of this, don't I?"

Day 19: Exhibitionism and Voyeurism

Today, Kevin tried to catch a girl with her pants down. He'd made the ill-advised bet last night with his friends, and now that he was sober (well, more sober, he'd already had four beers this morning) the ground squirrel was having second thoughts as he lay down in the bushes on the grounds of the music festival, perfectly hidden from view.

He knew this was wrong. It was disgusting, perverted, immoral behavior to creep around in the bushes like this. It was a 21-and-up only event, but even so. Sure, he'd often imagined himself in similar positions of sexual espionage, watching old romantic comedy movies back in his teenage days: he'd long fantasized about elaborate underwear heists and peeping tom missions. But it would never have crossed the shy young chipmunk's mind to actually try anything like that: the ladies' locker rooms and dorms at his college remained sacrosanct from his prying eyes. But last night, after an argument had turned into a fistfight, he and his friends had sworn a drunken pact, and Kevin, as the most spineless and easy to manipulate of the group, had been chosen to undertake the top secret mission to settle the matter once and for all:

Did girls pee out of their vaginas?

Kevin thought it was only logical, after all, dudes peed and cummed from the same place, and he would know, being one himself. Tod and Brian maintained that they peed out their butts, while Brendan hypothesized the existence of a “third hole." Dennis claimed that females of most species peed out of their nipples, but everyone knew he was just fucking with them.

So, that morning, after imbibing several cups of overpriced liquid courage, Kevin made his way to the venue restrooms, and the line of portapotties beside. As usual, there was a long, line, and Kevin, in an effort to get in the mindset of his prey, had intentionally held in his morning pee. Where would a desperate fur go? He followed his instincts into the woods beyond the plastic restrooms. He'd never try to sneak a peek inside a real bathroom stall or plant a hidden camera, but anyone going in the woods was, he rationalized, committing public urination, and so could hardly complain about him observing them from a place he had every right to be. With that in mind he thoroughly watered a tree and found his hiding spot: he commando-crawled through the bushes and peered out from the edge.

Sure enough, as the activity at the festival picked up and the restrooms and portapotties proved inadequate, numerous furs resorted to desperate measures and snuck out into the woods to pee. Kevin watched several females stumble past, legs pressed tight together, and several males either passed by or relieved themselves against the same tree he had used. But no female fur had picked the one spot he could see! His own bladder was refilling quickly. It began to throb and ache, making the ground squirrel fidget in his vigil. If this went on longer than he could hold it in, he resolved, he'd abandon his quest, admit defeat, and return to his friends in shame.

But then, a cheetah staggered out of the bushes in obvious distress. She was early twenties like him, he judged, wearing a t-shirt and short cutoff jeans, as well as a backwards ball cap. She was dancing from side to side with each step, and not to the beat of the distant, blaring music. Her hands were pressed to her crotch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she muttered. She looked around, checking the coast was clear, and fumbled with her zipper. “Why did I have to drink so much!"

Kevin couldn't believe his luck. The desperate and, he couldn't deny, very attractive cheetah tugged her pants down and squatted right in front of him! She suddenly stood up again, but only to pull down her panties, which she'd missed in her hurry before. She barely made it in time. A thick, powerful stream of pale yellow liquid gushed from between her legs, sweeping dead leaves and pine needles aside where it struck the ground and making a growing, foaming puddle. Kevin gasped in astonishment. This was really happening. She was peeing, right there in front of him! His heart pounded against the soil under him. His bladder also gave a sympathetic throb. All that liquid leaving her reminded him of his own pressing need. But he'd succeeded... nearly. Fuck, she wasn't at quite the right angle, he couldn't see! The direction and location the stream was coming out clearly proved Tod and Brian wrong (and Dennis, but everyone know he was making it up), but Brendan was still in the running. Was it coming out her vagina, or not? No! He couldn't lose this golden opportunity: he might not get another chance to see!

Carefully, gingerly, holding his breath, the ground squirrel scooted forward on his belly. Another inch, just another inch, and the truth would be revealed to him!

Then a twig snapped, just the slightest rustle, but the cheetah's ears twitched. She glanced to the side, right at Kevin!

“Hey, what the fuck!" the cheetah shouted. She stood up and yanked her pants up in one smooth motion, but only got them up partway. Her hands had reacted faster than her bladder muscles, too: a final spurt soaked her shorts and panties. “Argh! Shit!" She stumbled back, tripped over her pants, and fell on her butt in the puddle. “Fuck!" she hissed, and glared right at Kevin. “You!"

“Uh, I can explain!" Kevin stammered. He tried to run for it, but his hoodie caught on a branch, stopping his escape and dropping him flat on his face again. He couldn't explain, of course. He tried to think of an excuse, like he'd had too much to drink last night and passed out there, but the furious feline didn't give him a chance.

“So, you like watching girls take a piss, do you you little creep?" she snarled.

“Nn... no! This is all a misunderstanding. I, uhh, lost my wallet in these bushes!"

“Well here, how about I give you a closer look?"

Kevin could only stare in horror as the cheetah pulled her now dripping pants down again and squatted right in front of him with them around her ankles. Before he could even scream, she opened the floodgates again, dousing his face in a torrent of acrid feline fluids. It gushed out like a faucet, totally soaking his fur and splashing the ground around him.

“Acckphth! Fuck! Stop!"

“You like that you fuckin' perv?" the cheetah stopped the flow.

Kevin coughed and choked. “No more! I'm sorry, don't -"

“More? Okay!" she pressure-washed him for another ten seconds. It was horrible, stinging his eyes and nose, and fuck, it was in his mouth! It tasted faintly of cheap beer, but also repulsively salty.

He finally thrashed his way free of the branches and crawled for safety, his eyes still closed due to the stinging liquid that had drenched his face.

“Where do you think you're going?" the cheetah seized him and rolled him onto his back, then straddled the unfortunate chipmunk.

“Hel -"

“Shut up." She covered his mouth with her shoe. “If you make too much noise, we both go down: me for public urination, you for spying on me. Got it?"

“Mmm-hmmm!" Kevin whimpered.

“Good. I'll let you off with this warning if you tell me where you hid whatever camera you've got. Gimme your phone."

“I left it in my tent! You can check my pockets and see. I wasn't filming, I just wanted to settle a bet!"

“A bet?"

Kevin blubbered out the full explanation. He tried to keep his eyes on the cheetah's face, and not her boobs or her naked pussy, but her glare was just so intimidating.

“Really?" she hissed incredulously. “That's basic women's anatomy! What the fuck were you doing in health class?"

“Laughing and putting condoms over bananas."

The spotted cat rolled her eyes in disgust. “That's the most pathetic excuse for spying I've ever heard of! Here! You wanna see so bad, then look!"

She spread her lower lips wide. Kevin stared down the barrel of the stranger's super-soaker. “There's... two holes?"

FWWSSSSHHHHH... another jet of hot urine blasted his face, then the cheetah began to soak his hoodie in her gushing stream.

“Fuck! I'm sorry I spied on you! Please stop peeing on me!"

The cheetah lashed her tail distastefully. “Okay, fine. I'll let you off with a warning for being a creep. I don't really mind that much anyway."

“Oh. Thank you, you're very gracious. Can you let me go now?"

“If you'd just asked I'd have been happy to let you watch me pee. But you startled me and made me completely soak my pants, so I'm punishing you for that anyway. You're thirsty after waiting in those bushes for hours, right?"

“No! I drank four beers first, I'm not thirsty I swear! Please don't! Aaarglglbglglk! Gaaack! Fuucklglllk!"

Even after all that, the cheetah's bladder was nowhere near empty, and she did her best to drown Kevin in a foul flood of recycled festival beer for another thirty seconds. Despite his protests his mouth was parched since all the beer was going right through him, and without knowing what he was doing he swallowed several mouthfuls of the appalling liquid. When her stream ran dry at last, and the sound of running water faded, he heard... purring? He rubbed his stinging eyes. The cheetah was kneeling over him, blushing right through her fur. They made eye contact, and she hurriedly stood and pulled up her wet shorts.

“By the way, nice hoodie," she said. “That band's awesome."

“So's the one on your t-shirt," Kevin rose meekly. His bladder twinged, making him cross his legs. “Fuck," he muttered. “I forgot I had to pee too." He looked at the portapotties. No, he was completely soaked in piss. He took a stance in front of the tree he'd used before, and tried to unbutton his soggy jeans, only to remember that the cheetah was still standing right there.

“Umm, aren't you going back to the festival?" he asked. “Or to change your pants?"

“Oh, so you can watch me pee, but you need privacy? Is that how it works?"

“I thought you said you didn't mind me watching."

“I don't, but I hate hypocrisy. Besides, if you're going to take a piss in public, you don't get to complain about having an audience, right?"

Kevin squirmed in discomfort. He'd been desperate before but now that gravity was acting on his beer-swollen bladder, he was on the verge of pissing his pants. He unbuttoned them and tugged his underwear down, trying to turn away from prying feline eyes. The cheetah looked hungrily at him.

“Please stop staring – hey, wait, do you like watching this?"

“Umm... no? What the fuck? Creep."

Kevin found some shred of courage. “Your hand is down your shorts!"

The cheetah hastily withdrew it. “Shit. Okay, this all his a totally innocent explanation."

“What?"

The cheetah blushed even harder. “The truth is... my friends and I made a bet last night. They said guys could aim their pee standing up even without a boner, and they challenged me to prove it. I've been camped out here hiding in the bushes since 5 AM trying to catch some guy in the act. I saw you peeing on this tree when I got here actually."

“What?" Kevin yelped louder. “That's... creepy! I feel violated!"

“Well, now you know how it feels. It doesn't matter though, you were facing the wrong way so I couldn't see. I was hiding all morning, and I couldn't hold it in anymore! I was about to pee myself, and I thought you were just some random dude who came out here, pissed, and went back to the concert!"

“That's the same thing I was doing, and you're calling me a hypocrite? And by the way, guys pee without a boner all the time! If you try to pee with one it goes everywhere!"

The cheetah put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Prove it."

“If you want to make things fair, then go back to your hiding spot and I'll pretend you aren't watching me!"

“Fine." The cheetah went to another patch of bushes a ways away and crawled under them, then poked her head out. Kevin prepared to inundate the tree trunk. “Wait, not that way, I can't see! Stand somewhere closer!"

Kevin obeyed.

“Closer. And turn so I can see you."

“Is this good?"

“I guess it'll have to do," the cheetah said with a scowl. “Although, if you really want to make things fair, I guess I overreacted a little by drenching you. So you can give me a closer look, if you want."

Day 20: Watersports

Today, you attended a boat party hosted by the East Bladderton Watersports Club at a local marina. You're not a member of yourself, but you were invited by a rich friend (though not quite as rich as the guy who owns the boat). You tried swimming and a pickup game of water polo, but the party didn't really get underway until you and the other attendees motored out on the lake in a yacht that proudly bore the club's name on a banner. It had almost everything: obnoxiously loud music, large quantities of complimentary booze, and over a dozen overgrown frat boys in board shorts and sunglasses. There were just two things missing. One was a bathroom. There was none on the boat, and while pissing into the lake was a possibility, the vibe at this party was that the first dude to unzip would be the subject of endless ridicule. Your bladder ached with the need to release over half a dozen beers and cocktails, plus a couple of water bottles from a cooler sponsored by the East Bladderton HydroHomies Association, which was trying to recruit at the party with some success. The other...

“Man, I was told there were gonna be chicks at this party!" complained someone you didn't know, with his hair in bleached spikes. “This is a sausage fest. It totally blows!" You didn't want to say anything, but you agree with the sentiment.

“Maybe nobody wanted to come get stranded in the middle of a lake with you guys because of the implications," said your friend who invited you, the lone voice of reason.

“Whatever, it still bums me out!" slouched the original complainant, and several others voiced their agreement. “The only reason to go to boat parties is to get laid."

“Hey man, if you're that desperate I got an extra large pool noodle right here," someone said.

“Fuck off, Brendan!"

“I'm just saying, we could give each other handjobs!"

“He's got a point. That's how they handle being cooped up on a ship full of seamen for months in the Navy."

“You know there's women in the Navy too, right? Don't be so sexist!"

“Yeah, but you know, back in old days."

“I would, but there's seventeen guys here, and if even one of us forgets to say No Homo, it'd be catastrophic."

“Forget the handjobs, I gotta take a piss!"

The arguments continued while you sat awkwardly on a bench with a drink in your hand. Then, suddenly, a feminine voice spoke up, bringing the conversation to a halt.

“Hey, fellas!" Every head turned to see a wet, furry head poking out of the water and two paws grasping the ladder at the stern. A bright-eyed otter beamed at the collection of dudebros. With a beat of her powerful rudder the animal leapt out of the water and onto the deck. Water dripped off her fur, making a puddle on the plastic. The otter stood up on her hind legs. “I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and I think I can help you out!"

“Unless you know any girls who wanna come hang out here in their bikinis, I doubt it," someone said gloomily. Everyone was too buzzed to question the fact that a wild animal was talking to them.

The otter grinned. “You're bummed out because your boat party's a sausage fest. You all want some tail, and I've got a rudder right here!" she turned around, chin to the deck and stern in the air. She slapped her rump, which you had to admit was admirably curvy, with a paw and waggled her rudder in the air. “I may not have a bikini, but... I'm not wearing a bikini. I'm wearing nothing at all!"

Your face flushed with heat. You couldn't help staring at the otter's assets.

“What the fuck," someone said. The music came to a stop. “You're a wild animal. That's totally bestiality, man."

“You can be a prude about it if you want," said the otter with a pout. “Go ahead and miss out on all the fun. I'm here, and I'm DTF. Can your nonexistent girlfriend who isn't here on this boat today say the same? What's the matter, too scared to try otter pussy?"

“She's got a point," said your friend. “But it's a really high dude to chick ratio."

The otter rolled on her back, spreading her legs. “That's okay, I don't mind. You can share me, take turns, whatever floats your boat." Then the animal spotted the bulge in your board shorts. “Uh oh, what's this? It looks like somebody's hoisting the mast!" She hopped up onto the bench beside you and placed a paw on your thigh. You whimpered and tried to scoot away, but your retreat was blocked by the cooler, and the otter sniffed your crotch. Then she hopped onto your lap, standing tall enough to reach your face. She licked you. Her breath was unpleasantly fishy, but on the other hand, you were being seduced in broad daylight by a sexy otter. Your mast brushed against her crotch, and with a gleeful giggle she sat down on you. Her wet fur soaked through your shorts. Her paws toyed with the collar of your shirt. The rest of the partygoers laughed.

“Hey bro, I think she likes you!"

“Ha ha, nice!"

“Man, that's actually kinda hot."

“Yeah. I'm down to take a turn with her if you are."

You took a firm hold of the otter's hips. You tried to push her off, but with your hands resting there, it felt so good. She ground against your shorts, and by the time you were able to get up, all you could think of was taking them off. The otter immediately had her cold, wet paws all over your dick. She mouthed your balls and scrotum, biting and pinching the skin just enough to make it hurt, and to your astonishment got your mast all the way down her throat! She gagged and gulped, and pulled out just in time for you to finish messily all over her face!

You being first to take the plunge emboldened the rest of the partygoers, and the boat party soon became an orgy. At times the naughty otter had one dick inside her, another in her mouth, and was stroking two more off with each paw. Load after load of cum filled her or splattered her damp fur. Your turn came around again, and you mounted the animal on your knees on the deck with only a towel under you. Man your knees were going to hurt in the morning, but the primal urge to mate was more important. Otter pussy hit different. She was completely filthy, covered in cum from nose to rudder. But you didn't care.

The action was only brought to an end because the other deficiency of the boat became a bigger problem as time went on. Your bladder ached and throbbed, and some of the other guys were looking uncomfortable too.

“Fuck, man, I gotta take a leak!" the guy with the spiky bleached hair said after disentangling himself from the amorous otter again. “We should head back to shore."

“Yeah!" said another guy. “There's no bathroom on this boat, and I've been drinking all day."

The otter's tail wagged with delight, beating against the side of a bench. “There's no bathroom on this boat?" she asked. “You poor boys, you must be so pent up!"

“Yeah, we are..." you groaned.

“Good thing I'm here. I think I can help you with that problem, too!"

“What do you mean?"

“I'm an otter of many talents. I can deepthroat any man, alive, I can take a dicking all day, and if you need a urinal, I'm your girl. Us aquatic animals don't mind getting wet, and all this dicking down is making me thirsty!"

Ten seconds later, her mood had soured. “What do you mean you don't want to pee on me?" the otter growled. “Isn't this the East Bladderton watersports club?"

“Yeah," said your friend, always the voice of reason. “Watersports. We do waterskiing, swimming, boating, water polo, boating... what does that have to do with peeing on you?"

“Uh, dude," somebody tapped him on the shoulder. “Watersports means golden showers. Just check UrbanDictionary. I tried to get Mike to change the club name, but I got outvoted."

The otter pouted. You felt a little bad for her. She was now experiencing the same disappointment you felt when you realized what a sausagefest the boat party was. Besides, you reasoned, there weren't any other options. If you all peed in the water, she could just swim under your streams, and if you peed on the deck, it would be really weird. Unless there was a willing, slutty otter to serve as a target. You explained your logic to the others, and to your surprise, found yourself listened too.

“Fuck, dude, I can't wait another minute!" one guy, one of the drunker ones on the boat, stepped up. “Besides, this party would've sucked without her. If she wants our piss, that's a small price to pay."

With that, he heroically began draining his bladder in the general direction of the otter. His aim was terrible, but she rolled under his stream, writhing and fondling herself. “Ohhh, yeah," she moaned. “Soak me..."

Two more partygoers stepped up to the plate. The otter eagerly stood on her hind legs, tipped her head back, and opened wide. Her mouth was a much smaller target than the average urinal or toilet, but the men rose to the challenge, flooding her mouth with strong yellow streams and drenching her body. “HRgglrlglgglgbglug!" she was gargling their piss, and taking big gulps of the nasty liquid. When they were done the mustelid lapped their liquids from the puddle on the deck. Your friend shrugged, stepped up, and with exquisite aim directed his stream directly onto your pussy, making the otter writhe and shriek with pleasure.

“God, she's nasty!" someone commented.

“Look at it drink! She wasn't kidding about being thirsty!"

The sopping otter belched. Ten full bladders had been emptied on her or down her throat. Ten soon became sixteen, leaving only you, sitting there with your legs crossed.

“Come on," the otter said. “I know you have to go."

“I have a shy bladder!" you confessed. “I can't pee with everyone watching!"

The otter splashed up to you and wrapped her mouth around the tip of your penis. “Here. No nobody can see what you're doing."

The logic was unsound, but with her tongue lapping eagerly at the very tip, right on your pee hole, your bladder couldn't hold out another minute. Your face flushed, and you began to piss right into the lutrine latrine's mouth. “Mmmblblbl!" she gazed up adoringly at you. Urine spilled out the sides of her mouth. Glug glug glug glug glug! She was committed to chugging your entire bladder, but she was such a messy drinker.

It took forever for you to empty under the circumstances. The otter pulled back and wiped her mouth. She was drenched! Every inch of her coat was absolutely sopping with urine, and she stank like a bar urinal.

“Okay, boys, who's ready for another round?"

“Eww! What the fuck!"

“You're soaked in piss! Go wash it off in the lake first!"

The otter refused. “If I don't have any volunteers, I'll pick someone. How about... you!"

You gulped. She was staring right at you. “M-m-me?" The dirty otter was already climbing onto the bench. “Hey! Stop that! Get off me! Guys? Someone, help me out here!"

“Better you than us," said spikey hair guy.

“Just keep her entertained while we head for the docks," said the owner of the boat. “We owe you, right guys?"

“Fuck all of you." You tried to keep the over-eager otter away, but she was too wet and squirmy. She soon ended up in your lap, riding you and dripping piss all over you, not to mention licking your face. Luckily you convinced her to suck you off instead.

The boat pulled into the dock with a thump. “Wait, before you boys go, it's my turn!" said the otter. “My bladder's so full! Who wants to volunteer to try some real watersports?" You knew her words to be true. The otter had chugged four HydroHomies bottles, not to mention vast quantities of piss. The animal's lower belly was swollen to unbelievable size. It looked like she'd shoved a small watermelon up her snatch.

“Everybody off!" cried the owner. The entire party vacated the boat with surprising speed, though most of them had gotten their clothes back on. You weren't so lucky. The otter was on your lap again, hugging you in the after glow. You knew you needed the element of surprise. When she turned and voiced her annoyance at everyone leaving so soon, you roughly shoved her off you, grabbed your shorts, and made for the dock as you tried to pull them up. But this was a risky stunt at any time, much less after so many drinks. You tripped and fell hard on the dock with your pants around your knees.

“Oww, fuck!" you rolled over, groaning. The otter climbed on top of you.

“Looks like you're the only one who stayed. Lucky boy."

“Mmmf! Please, just go in the water!" You wrinkled your nose at the animal's hot, piss-reeking breath. She turned around, waggling her rudder and curvy lutrine hips. Despite the dire circumstances the sight was so alluring you couldn't make yourself move to push her off. She sat down on your face, enveloping your mouth and nose in her saturated fur. Her thighs quivered with desperation as she rose into a squat.

“In the water? That's so uncivilized. You weren't willing to, why should I?" the otter laughed. A squirt of liquid splashed your face. “Ahh - I can't hold it – ohhhhhh, wow..."

A flood of hot, golden pee gushed from between her legs, drenching your face. Her stream blasted against your lips so forcefully it sprayed up your nose and made you choke and cough. You opened your mouth in the process, and immediately got it flooded by salty, slightly fishy-tasting liquid. The otter panted with relief. Without thinking you patted her rump. Man, she must have had to go so badly, the poor girl! “Mgglgln! Yglgluu mgglst'vglve rlgglly had -" you tried to speak while gargling otter piss, then choked. “Flgglk!" She was practically drowning you in the torrent flowing from her nethers, but that was kind of hot, in a dominance-asserting way. And you were curious why she enjoyed it so much. You choked down a swallow, then another. But the taste was horrible, and she just wasn't stopping. Fuck, how big was her bladder? You gave the mustelid's muff a careful lick. The otter moaned.

“Yeah... fill yourself up so you can soak me again!"

“No! The party's over! I'm letting you do this one time but that's it!" Filled with renewed strength, you shoved the creature off you and sat up, spluttering and choking.

“Hey!" the otter complained. “I barely broke the seal!"

“Too bad. If you want to get peed on again, why don't you do it on yourself?" you said. But that gave you an idea. That sounded hot, actually. You grabbed the animal's rudder and pulled her towards you, then yanked her butt in the air by her ankles until she was upside down. You pressed your fingers against her taut, still bulging bladder. The otter squirmed in discomfort, but then looked up at you and grinned.

“You think an otter's afraid of getting wet? Think again." Yellow liquid began to bubble from her pussy, making a waterfall down her sopping belly. The flow soon strengthened into a fountain. Golden liquid rained down on the otter, her desperately full bladder emptying all over her. She had her mouth open. God, she was drinking it. That was so nasty. Her wet rudder slapped you in the face. Her flow waxed and wanes, pulsed and spurted, showering her body in urine. Her mouth was overflowing with golden liquid. That was so hot...

The otter's bladder emptied at least, but she happily remained in that position while you tickled her paws and between her legs. She slumped down onto the wet planks of the dock, completely soggy.

“Okay, fine," you said, defeated by her sheer shameless naughtiness. “I'll pee on you one more time, and you can do what you want with me until I have to go again. But that's final."

“Okay," the otter says happily. “While we wait, how about we slip off this dock, and I'll show you how long an otter can hold her breath!"

Day 21: Panties & Lingerie

Today, Eric came home from grocery shopping to a welcome surprise: his girlfriend, Laila, sitting on his couch in her underwear with her legs crossed. The human started back when he walked in the door at first, and almost dropped his grocery bags.

“What the fuck? Oh, it's you. Why are you – what the fuck? I said 7:30 for our date night!"

“You gave me a spare key, remember?" The fennec vixen smiled.

“For emergencies!" Eric took a deep breath and crossed the threshold a third time. “Listen, it's not like I'm not happy to see you, but if you're gonna come over early can you at least text me? There's eggs and glass jars here and I almost dropped them!"

“Oh. Fuck, sorry." Laila folded her ears back contritely. “But this is an emergency."

Eric hurried into the kitchen and thunked the grocery bags down on the table. “Serious emergency or joking emergency? Your face says joking, but -"

Laila pointed at her crossed legs. “Bathroom emergency. My bathroom's, uh... I decided to repaint it so obviously it's out of commission all day because of the fumes, and I've been drinking water, Power-Ade, and Mountain Dew all day, and I had to pee so badly!"

“Painted? Since when can you paint your bathroom? Does your lease allow that?"

“Umm..."

Eric smirked at the squirming fox. “How long have you been sitting here waiting for me to get home without coming up with a better excuse?"

Laila flipped him off. “You're missing the important part. I came over to use your bathroom, but your doorknob has these stupid round handles, and I can't open the door with my paws! You got here just in time!"

Eric knew the anthro fennec had just as much manual dexterity as any human, but he could take a hint. His girlfriend was sitting there, on his couch, in her underwear. More than that even: fun underwear, or Funderwear, as they called it. She had on a pair of pale pink panties with a lacy fringe, a set of translucent stockings that came up to mid-thigh with a wide band at the top, suspended by a frilly garter belt, and a top that only covered her top pair of nipples with opaque fabric, leaving the lower pairs covered only by see-through mesh. The ensemble didn't quite match in color, but what kind of boyfriend would be stupid enough to point that out? (Him, two weeks ago, but only to follow it with a comment that if she took off the mismatching panties she'd be better coordinated, which Laila admitted was pretty smooth) Let alone to question the legitimacy of a vixen's bathroom emergency. “Oh. Well, I've got more groceries to bring in and put away before they go bad. You'll have to wait a little. Do you want me to get you a drink while you wait?"

Eric took his time bringing the rest of the groceries in, one bag at a time, up and down the apartment elevator which was so slow that most residents took the stairs. Then he made sure to take his time putting them away, and reorganizing the fridge while his desperate girlfriend squirmed in discomfort and sipped at a glass of water.

“You're going to have a wet couch in a few minutes!" she warned.

Deciding he'd teased her enough, Eric led her to the bathroom. He jiggled the handle. “Uh oh." He made a big show of straining against it. “Looks like it's stuck. It must be the humidity, it always makes this door stick." He looked down at her with a smirk. She was hopping from paw to paw. “It usually gets better in a couple hours, though."

“I don't have a couple hours!" Laila whimpered.

“That's not my problem." Eric headed back to the living room, with the vixen following trembling in his wake. “Maybe I'll think of something if you give me an honest answer to one question."

“What?"

“Did you come here early because you wanted to surprise me... or because somebody's a silly little vixen who drank too much and couldn't pace herself so she could hold it until it was time for our date?"

Laila blushed through her fur. “I couldn't pace myself. I... may have had an extra can of Mountain Dew this afternoon." An extra can was a lot for a fur who was only about 3'6" and lightly built. It was obvious from her body language that the caffeine had given her the jitters, and had its other main effect of going right through her. She could have been playing up her inability to stand still without crossing her legs, but in this outfit the bulge in her lower belly was all too obvious. Eric smiled and caressed his girlfriend's full bladder.

“I thought so. That reminds me, I still have one more thing to put away..." He got one last item out of the grocery bags. A pack of puppy training pads. He opened it and spread one out on the floor. “I bought these for you because I know you're a silly fox who isn't potty trained."

“So I can pee there?" Laila's tail was already wagging furiously.

“No. That's gross, you still can't pee in my living room! You have to stand there, so if you have an accident it won't ruin my floor."

Laila waddled onto the potty pad, clutching her bladder. She stood in the middle, and walked her paws apart a little. She didn't even make it ten seconds before a wet spot appeared on her panties. It widened to a large damp patch, and spurts of liquid dripped onto the potty pad before becoming a stream. “Ahh... oops. Sorry, I really couldn't make it!"

“Wow, I guess not. It's a good thing you came over early." Eric watched, breathless, as his girlfriend wet herself. “Going right in your clothes, too. Naughty fox." He'd already stripped down to his briefs, and there was a small wet patch of his own at the apex of his tented crotch. No matter how many times she did this it would always be incredible. Laila's furry, stocking'd legs trembled as a wavering yellow waterfall poured through her panties and splashed onto the puppy pad. Droplets darkened the paws of her stockings.

“I can't help it!" Laila whined. She was already standing in her puddle. Eric was glad he'd bought extra large pee pads, or she'd probably overflow it. She brought her legs together, still peeing herself. Spidering fingers of wetness streaked down her stockings until they were soaked from top to bottom. Eric couldn't take his eyes off her. “Oh, fuck, I'm all wet! This feels so good..."

“Don't you want some privacy? If you'd made it to the bathroom, you could've had some, but instead you have to pee right out in the public part of the apartment."

“You don't let me pee unsupervised anyway." Laila spread her legs apart again. Pee cascaded down her sopping stockings. She tucked her bushy, fluffy tail under, letting it get soaked in the stream, then put her hand to her crotch as if she was trying to stem the flow. “Hnnghh... it won't stop!"

“God, how much did you drink, Sweetie?" Eric couldn't help himself. He knelt next to her and helped her fondle the source of the river. Warm liquid gushed over his hand. He rubbed her fuzzy belly with his dripping palm and reached up under her top.

“Too much," Laila admitted.

“That's right." Eric patted her head, still with his wet hand. He stood up and retrieved the glass she'd just emptied from the end table with his dry one. Laila had finally stopped the flow, but she was dripping, and clearly still desperate. “Here. You're going to flood that pad."

He held it to her crotch. The fennec sighed in relief and unleashed a flood through her saturated panties, dribbling liquid into and all over the glass and her own legs.

“Damn it, it won't go in!" she tugged them aside, and sprayed the container with a golden flood, filling it most of the way with straw-colored liquid in a matter of seconds. He held it up to her face for her to sniff. She wrinkled her nose. “Aren't I wet enough already?"

“No, your top's still pretty much dry. Besides, I don't think this potty pad can even hold it all if you don't drink some of it."

“You could always drink it."

“What kind of punishment would that be? Come on, I know you're thirsty." Eric held the glass to her lips and tipped his girlfriend's head back. He was right: She was thirsty, but she drank messily, spilling piss all down her front.

“Mmmf! Glck! I can hold it myself!"

“Clearly not, messy fox." Eric poured the last half on her head, and returned the glass to her still leaking crotch. “How does it taste?"

“There's still a hint of Baja Blast."

“Seriously?"

“There's only one way to find out if I'm lying," she said with a grin, and put her wet hand on his face.

“True."

The liquid in the glass was rising fast, as the hissing stream leaked through her panties. Eric was so caught up in the pleasure of watching her pee herself that he forgot about it until it was overflowing warm urine all over his hand. He raised it, said “Cheers," and took a sip. “Whoa. Holy shit, you're right. How much did you drink?"

“Four cans."

“Fuck, I'm surprised it's not green." Eric took another swig, savoring the salty, very slightly lime-hinted taste of his girlfriend's nectar. “You're going to be hyperactive and pissy all night, aren't you?"

“It's date night. What did you expect?" Laila took the glass from him with jittering hands, drank deeply, and poured it all over her head. “Ahh... fuck... hurp! Oh, God..."

She was completely soaked now, her fur flattened down and her lingerie darkened with beautiful wetness. Her stream started again. She tried to pull her panties down, but her stockings got in the way, and the sopping fennec stumbled into her boyfriend's arms, still releasing the rest of her bladder. Sssss...

“Fuck, I love you..." Eric hugged her, kissed her, and wrang a little piss out of her ear.

“Do you love me enough to forgive me for peeing on the floor?"

“What? That's I bought the potty pad... wait, god damnit." He wasn't on the potty pad. There was a puddle on the faux hardwood. “Yes," he sighed, “I forgive you. Sit right there and I'll clean it up. Then maybe I can help you out of those wet panties."

“Pizza tonight?" she asked, happily sitting down in the lake of piss.

“Sure."

“Can I get the two liter soda? I promise I'll try really hard to not have an accident in your lap."

“Only if you promise you'll fail. I was going to put on a couch protector if you didn't show up two hours early." He patted her damp head, took off his now pee-soaked briefs and gave them to her to sniff, and went to the kitchen for some paper towels.