FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He could explain. Obie hadn’t secretly crossed the boss just because he happened upon something on his recent expedition that he kept for himself. That particular object wasn’t what he’d been sent there to gather. It was a side interest, a little something extra just for him. The only reason he hadn’t mentioned it when he finished the job was to keep from making a whole thing about it. He was just creating less work for the boss and the handler she’d assigned to him. Sitting in his small home above his shop, the possum nervously tapped his feet, trying to will the worry away. If they hadn’t said anything about it by then, he probably got away with it - not that anything he did was something he needed to get away with. Probably.

It occurred to him eventually that he’d spent the entire evening just being anxious. He hadn’t done a single productive or fun thing since he got home. Maybe it was time to just call it a night and reset himself, and if he still felt that way he could bring it up with one of the more trustworthy gang members in the morning. It wasn’t really his usual thing to work with such blatant criminals, but they had mostly treated him well. As far as organized crime went, it was one of the friendlier empires to associate himself with. So why then was he still such a wreck?

Maybe it was [i]her[/i]. Not the boss herself, but the lead dancer at the biggest club in the city. She was always around. Obie got the sense the massive zebra was more than a performer, for the horror stories he’d heard of her. Maybe the tales of her violent side were just rumours she spread herself to give her more of a dangerous allure. Yet he couldn’t shake the way she looked at him. Her blue and brown gaze was piercing, lecherous, even hungry. Someone once told him she had a thing for soft, wide-hip boys just like him. Yet whenever he brought her up at the various gang-owned venues he sometimes dwelt in, he got one recurring piece of advice:

[i]Don’t[/i].

That all did well to explain why he so quickly picked up on the sound of heavy hooves approaching before she even reached his door. Earning the wrath of his new, temporary boss had consequences, but she didn’t always dole them out herself. Sometimes she sent someone, either to knock on a door or break it down. Obie wondered which one it was going to be. He’d never really thought himself the sort who needed a heavy lock on his door, even when people told him he really should have had that flimsy thing replaced. She probably could have broken her way in with ease, but she was polite enough to tap on it three times instead, freezing him in place as soon as the sound came.

He considered ignoring it. Maybe he could sneak into bed and turn off all the lights, pretend he was asleep, and it would all go away. She didn’t knock again. He peered around the corner and saw the shadow under his doorway. Every moment he hesitated was one he was keeping her [i]waiting[/i]. That seemed like a terrible idea. Though he was barely dressed, in just a light shirt and some underwear on that hot and humid evening, he didn’t bother to put anything else on. He wasn’t going to test her patience any longer.

Unlocking the light latch and opening the door just enough to look around it, hiding his partly clothed body as if it might protect him, he cautiously peeked out to confirm what he already knew. There stood the zebress, barely decent in an outfit that was little more than a bikini. Her gold-trimmed garments barely concealed the absolute generosity of her assets. There wasn’t much clothing that would have hid them. It was impossible not to scan her from the bottom up, taking in the ridiculous heft of her bulge foremost, but also the curve of her broad hips, the strength of her thighs and abdomen, the bounce of her massive bust. When he managed to meet her eyes for a second or two, she spoke.

“Mister Garrison.”

[i]Oh god oh no oh fuck fuck fuck -[/i]

“Oh, hi Kalypso.”

He tried to act like it was no big deal, that he was happy to have a late night visitor. She gave him a short smile that didn’t reach her mismatched eyes.

“You remembered my name.” Her tone was flat, inscrutable. “Do you know why I’m here?”

A thousand explanations competed for space in his head. He dismissed any that were lies. Speaking anything but the truth while standing in her shadow, feeling her gaze penetrating him was simply out of the question. She loomed so tall above him his face was barely higher than his waist. He swore he was shrinking. His knees were weak, and not all of it was fear. The sheen of perspiration on her exposed skin made the stripes glisten all the more, and her natural scent combined with sleek body oil clouded his thoughts with the consideration of what it’d be like to just reach out and touch, or rub, or even lick.

When he finally articulated a response, it wasn’t his first choice. It was just what came out of his mouth.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Ohh, that depends.” Her tone was slightly warmer at that, but he still flinched when she stepped ever so slightly closer. “Have you done something that needs punishing?”

“No! I did exactly what I was sent to do. Is something wrong? Did it seem like I did something wrong?”

“Maybe, maybe not. You’re sure you have nothing more to say?”

Her stare came with a growing smile. She looked at the same time flirtatious and so intense he was positively wilting under her scrutiny. His voice was a squeak.

“... Should I?”

“I’m going to be honest with you. That side of the business really isn’t my concern. What I do know is you’ve been more a mess than usual ever since you came back from your little job. The boss could tell. And I can smell your guilt. Do you know what I do with girly boys like you?”

She stepped past the threshold of his doorway, blocking his only exit, unless he was going to try to slide between her legs. That package would have made for a considerable obstacle if he did. He considered how much it would have hurt to hurl himself through a second story window. Probably less than whatever she was capable of doing to him.

“Yes. Or ... no. Not exactly.” He shifted his eyes frantically. “I’ve heard stories. Some pretty dark ones.”

“Mmmm. And those are just what you’ve heard. You are my favourite type, boy. Those hips. That pretty face. I’ve been watching you, you know. I wanted to be the one to take care of this. I wanted a [i]reason.[/i]”

Hearing that got him blushing hard enough it hurt a little. He was blazing, and a simple pair of soft boxers wasn’t doing much to hide how much she turned him on with just those words. He looked right down to her hooves, not daring to examine her any more closely, lest he completely spiral into making terrible decisions. It was in failing to meet her gaze that he noticed the bag slung over her shoulder. The contents faintly rattled as she stepped inside and closed his door behind her, leaving him to wonder what sort of terrible implements of torture she had brought with her, as if her own body wasn’t frightful enough.

She didn’t even lock the door behind herself. She wasn’t afraid of being interrupted. No matter how much noise they ended up making. The night traffic rolled by outside. Distant voices drifted in through the open window. A breathy hiss was the sound of a fan revolving, pushing some of that humid air around to at least create the impression of a breeze. Obie had already been sweating a little. It was so much worse in her presence, watching her hooves, and the perspiration gliding all the way down her stripes to meet them.

“Obie. That’s what you go by, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft at first, even seductive. “Look at me.”

Kalypso didn’t need to be firm to ensure he obeyed her every command. Mustering up what remained of his shattering will, he tipped his muzzle towards her gaze, doing his best not to shrink under such scrutiny.

“I can see how scared you are. And I like that. You know what it means to be alone with me, looking so cute like that. But don’t panic just yet. Be a good boy, and help me decide what to do with you.”

That spark of hope was enough to straighten his spine. He took a deep breath. It was meant to steady himself further, but instead it made him all the more aware of how good she smelled. His lungs were full of her essence, and he didn’t even want to exhale it. The more he watched her, the more he swore she simply knew every detail of all the most private thoughts he’d had about her. His mind was an open window, letting all the horny thoughts out. He thought about saying something in his defence, denying what was obvious even to the most oblivious of body language readers, but parting his lips was already enough to let a quivering whimper escape. He closed them again, and waited for her command, which she swiftly gave.

“Show me the way to your bed.”

That he could do. He was pretty sure he still remembered the way. The simple act of walking felt like traversing a tightrope in a storm, one sway away from plummeting to the ground. He felt sick and he felt more turned on than he had ever been in his entire life. For all the danger he’d ever been in, that night felt worse. With his back turned to her, his tail nervously twitched when he considered that she was thinking about whether or not to [i]end[/i] him for her own pleasure right that very moment. He was just going to have to convince her he was worth keeping, even if he had no idea where to start.

The cluttered state of his bedroom felt damning when he invited her in there. She made it look so small, filling up the room with her presence, shoulders nearly at the ceiling. With her head tipped down, she watched him. He didn’t know whether to invite her closer, or to simply splay himself out and offer his body to her whims. While he meandered, aroused and uncertain, she glanced around, nodded to herself, and began to strip off what few garments she bothered to wear to cover that legendary body in public.

It wasn’t a show meant to delight him, but she couldn’t help putting at least a little performance in the sway of her hips and the arch of her back. Emphasizing what she had just came naturally to someone of her skills. Once those dark-peaked breasts were on display, it was physically impossible for Obie to resist staring at them. He was confident no mortal could have fought such an urge. Admiring them with his slightly agape gaze might have lasted forever if not for the reveal of what was under her bulging bottoms.

Oh god. She wasn’t even [i]out[/i] yet. That considerable bulge was nothing more than the shape of her nuts, and the plump sheath that housed her huge, boy-breaking cock. He’d seen it glistening under the lights, throbbing to its full size, from afar. It looked big from across the room, but the enormous shaft slipping out over a pair of shiny, black, gargantuan balls was the lewdest thing he’d ever seen. It looked like it could have crushed him under its sheer weight alone, and there was still so much more to go until it was fully filled out.

“There. We’re almost ready to get started. But there’s one more thing. Don’t move.”

He didn’t dare. His eyes strayed to that bag of unidentified implements she’d brought with her. Indescribable relief washed over him when he saw nothing that could have been used to extract information from him, followed by confusion. What did she need a video camera for? Or several, for that matter? He stood motionless as if her sight was based on movement, observing as she stretched out a pair of collapsible tripods and affixed some solid, bulky cameras atop them. A few quick adjustments and checks to make sure they were working correctly, and she turned her head to speak to him over her shoulder.

“My fans love boys like you. You’ll put on a good show for them. I know you will.”

He took a chance at speaking. It wasn’t as squeaky as he’d feared. “What ... do they want me to do?”

“Whatever I want.”

“And what’s ... that?” He hesitated to finish, as if he might summon something into being simply by saying it.

Kalypso didn’t immediately answer that time. Instead, she stood tall, stretching her arms out wide, flexing, bending, placing her hands behind her head to roll her hips and bounce that slowly stiffening cock. Every pulse that ran through it made it jump atop her heavy balls, leaking an already visible stream of precum. She finally nodded to him.

“I want you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

It was up to him to decide where to start. He wasn’t tall enough to reach her tits without stretching his hands over his head and jumping, so that narrowed it down some. Maybe it was best to start slow. His heightened pulse rattled through his arms, right down to his fingertips, making them twitch and curl like he was typing on an invisible keyboard. He wondered if she might smite him on the spot if he gave her just one touch spot, just break him in half with her bare hands. Yet the only option was confidence, or at least the projection of such. He took a grip on one of her thick, solid thighs and squeezed deeper and deeper to truly appreciate with rising trepidation just how strong she was.

Kalypso’s slow nod of apparent approval went unnoticed. Obie was singularly fixated on his task. He massaged her and admired her with the awe usually reserved for great treasures, or perhaps living miracles. Her body was perfect in every way that mattered to him. From the athletic tone, to the exceptional curves, to her sheer size. Her sweat clung to his fingers the more he touched her. The scent enticed him to lick it clean. He tempered that urge into simply moving his attention to somewhere sweatier.

Feeling up her balls made him appreciate her body all the more. Just how did she move with such grace when she had to heft such weight around everywhere. He had to brace himself just to pick them up, cupping his palms beneath them, feeling them ever so carefully. Going beneath deep enough to touch her taint was when his gradually growing lust. A glance above saw her expression mildly amused, if still intense in her way. She was happy to let him touch her anywhere he liked, after so many nights spent secretly longing just to stand a little closer to her. The only thing that kept it from being a dream come true was thinking about the ways she was silently grading him in his adoration, weighing his every impulse to decide if he was worth punishing.

Massaging her balls thoroughly enough eventually made her dick rise up and tap against his chest. Just that small touch was enough to leave him coated in a layer of musk and precum that sank right through his shirt and into his fur and skin. She left her mark on him with that incidental smooch. He was full mast by then, completely unable to control how hard he was. Stretching the fabric of his underwear taut around his girly rump was mildly uncomfortable, but not enough to distract him. The most important thing was he kept rubbing her, hefting and examining her as if to confirm she and her great big balls were actually real.

Sometimes his touches strayed around her hips. He made sure to alternate between massaging and simply inspecting her body. Showing her the awe she deserved took effort. He rubbed her until that cock started to push him away, leaking more and more of her juices, until they were audible pattering down on his floor. The heat was rising. Her presence steamed his modest bedroom until he found himself panting just to breathe properly. Swimming in her musk until his eyes watered and blurred her silhouette, he turned his full attention upwards as soon as he heard her speak again.

“Good. Talented hands you have there. I think they’d feel better if you were oiling me up. I can always be shinier, I think you’ll agree.”

She already had a pleasant glisten to her, partly from sweat, and partly just from being so smooth all over. A quick dip down to her bag of supplies and she was up again, this time clutching a deluxe-sized bottle of fine, fragrant massage oil. Even sealed, a small sample of its hot, herbal scent clung to the glass, only adding to the sweetness filling the room. She pushed it into his chest until he took it from her.

“Take off the top and turn this upside down on me. Don’t be afraid to make a mess.”

She wasn’t going to be the one cleaning up after all. His sheets were marked as soon as she stepped past him and stretched herself out over his bed. Of course someone of her size didn’t fit, but that didn’t matter. She overtook his mattress with her form, making the frame buckle beneath her weight. With her arms behind her head and her cock rising up high, half-stiff and pouring thick globs of prejizz into the sculpted crevices of her toned middle, she was a sight very few, lucky boys ever got to see up close like that. It was time to get her positively glimmering.

Considering the mess all that oil was going to make was far from worth worrying about. If anything, imagining himself painstakingly cleaning it all up in the aftermath gave him a bit of hope to cling to. All he had to do was make sure he pleased her. If she wanted to be soaked, he could do that. Twisting the top right off and inverting the bottle made the oil flow, pouring out and coating her skin. He started at her chest. That seemed the most obvious place to splash any sort of liquid on her. From there, he continued pouring until she was slathered and scented from tits to balls. The last few drops coated his hands when he shook them out over his open palms.

It was time to rub. He was no stranger to making beautiful women feel good. It was going to have to be the best massage he’d ever given if he wanted to see another sunrise. The pressure made his hands tremble, at least until he found his spot. It wasn’t just a privilege to play with her breasts. It was an expectation. She watched him, eyes half-closed but still focused on his nervous features while he took a double handful of a single breast, pressing deep to consider just how incredible, how impossible it was for something so massive to even be real, much less something he was squishing his fingers deeply into. Getting firm with her flesh didn’t bother her. She slowly nodded with a gentle sigh once he got going. The [i]schlip-schlop[/i] of him oiling up her bust drowned out his shaky breaths.

Squeezing one breast and then the other, playing with her pierced nips, and hefting each one up to admire and oil up the sweaty underside was no small effort. Her bust was heavy enough his arms were sore just from lifting and dropping it a few times, but he wasn’t going to let a little fatigue stop him from being thorough. Only when he was absolutely [i]certain[/i] he’d given her legendary tits the attention they deserved did he begin to consider rubbing her anywhere else.

Glossing down her sides and her middle let him feel just him trim and toned she was around there. For whatever reason, he’d always assumed her visible musculature was fake somehow, maybe painted on or exaggerated with some sort of makeup. Yet there were those abs, sculpted beneath his fingertips, flexing taut under his attention. Then there was the broad swell of her hips, eventually giving way to her solid thighs. For all the strength he felt beneath the stripes there, he found himself imagining just how deadly it would have been to end up between them.

All that massaging had him dancing around the most obvious target of his attention. Her cock was standing tall the entire time, partly eclipsing his view of her face. She peered around that girth at him, waiting for him to decide when he was brave enough to touch. He kept on rubbing her legs, her hips, even sneaking a few squeezing around at as much of her ass as he could get his hands on. Eventually, she snorted her impatience, startling him.

“Don’t just look at it. Give me a nice wet stroke. I want to hear those hands gliding on some sleek black flesh.”

Enunciating those last three words with such an excess of lust and succulence, all but spitting them at him was more than convincing. As was the unspoken threat of what would come if he kept boring her. He knew that was what she meant, on some level. He’d always wanted to feel it. Just not in [i]those[/i] circumstances. But maybe, being who he was, looking how he did, there was never any way to meet her that didn’t involve the dread of his own demise, looming close, precariously balanced in some dark section of her mind.

That all went away at least to some extent when he started stroking. Two hands clasped around the base of her gigantic dick, feeling pulse within, and the rigid flex testing the strength of his grip. Such a monumental thing was worth inspecting down to every last detail, to sample all its textures, to trace an outline over every bulging vein and the rings and swells of that equine anatomy. He was fascinated, mesmerized even. Yet with her expectant gaze upon him, he knew his first job was to [i]stroke[/i]. Satisfying his obsession could come later, if she happened to tell him to do so.

A few rubs was already enough to get the precum flowing all the more thickly from her bulky tip. It had already been leaking out plentifully enough to trickle all the way down to her nuts, adding a little extra lubrication to the increasingly noisy handjob he was providing. Once he really got going, really started jerking her off, those watery juices began to outright spit and and shoot out, splashing over his face when he got too close, coating him in such a potent layer of her musk as to completely infuse him with it, to drown out his own scent. It made him pant, mouth open, swallowing even more of his essence. Her next command was one he was already considering.

“Tongue, too.”

There was plenty to clean up. Her shaft was thoroughly coated in that fragrant oil, but that wasn’t his focus. He gave all his attention to that stream of precum. Just getting it on his tongue was exciting enough, but letting it slide back so he could swallow it got him throbbing. It was all for him. All that lust, all that mess was because he turned her on so much. No matter the fear, he wasn’t going to let that thought escape. Focusing on the pride and flattery of her demandingly horny state kept him from thinking about what that cock could [i]do[/i] to him.

Kalypso seemed dormant enough that she probably wasn’t going to ram it down his throat if he opened his mouth around it. Even fitting it between his lips at all took some effort. He slipped and sucked, lapping at the tip, drinking all those fluids down. It wasn’t the most impressive thing she’d ever received, for certain, but it was devoted. Whether or not it could even be called a blowjob when he could get so little in his mouth at once didn’t matter. He was licking and kissing the absolute best he could, stroking the base of her cock the whole time, feeling it swell and flex with increasing tension. He was doing a good job. She was [i]building[/i] to something he wasn't sure he was ready for.

Stroking and tasting, savouring her as much as he was deeply indulging himself in her musk. His eyes watered as he coated his tongue with her juices, sucking them down, even suppressing a few small moans while he worked. His head was spinning and he could barely keep his eyes open. She demanded his full attention, even at the cost of his wavering consciousness. He licked and flickered alike, working his arms to exhaustion just stroking that massive tower of black zebra flesh, jerking her off until she was making more and more of a mess every single slurp that ran along her spurting slit.

Right when he felt her flaring out, felt those nuts flexing extra tight and the tension pulsing hard through her entire shaft, she laid a hand on his head. Her touch was firm enough to ease him back right in the middle of what felt like an impending orgasm. No matter how much pleasure he’d given her, no matter how close she actually was, her expression was calm as she spoke to him.

“That’s enough. I can finish later. Time for you to do my back.”

He blinked a few times, watching her dick still pulsing near his face, until she casually turned over with just a brief glance back at him. She was every bit as intimidating from behind. Even with her hard shaft pressed down to his bed, poised between her well-oiled tits, he got a good look at that athletic, striped back, the other side of those clenching nuts, and of course the fine contours of her rump. She flicked her tufted tail at him, tickling under his chin and making him flinch, and awaited.

Playing with her dick already had him somewhere well past full mast. Yet it was laying his oiled palms on the cheeks of her ass, and watching the stripes stretch and compact under his rubbing attention that sent him even higher, even deeper into mind-numbing arousal. His cock hurt a little. It was throbbing so hard he grit his teeth a little with every pulse, but that didn’t keep him from his work. Digging his fingers deep into those rounded cheeks, feeling the squish atop the firmness, spreading them apart and squeezing them together while the zebra breathed a bit heavier than before, he told himself he was still doing a good job, that her intimidation tactics were nothing more than that. Yet he still jumped a little when she turned her attention back to him and clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“Really, Obie? Still dressed? Take those off and use your whole body to rub the oil in.”

A brief but discarded concern of his was that taking off his underwear meant she was going to see how turned on he really was. It had been obvious from the start. That bulge was all but translucent by then thanks to the oil and sweat clinging to his clothes. Then there was his own precum constantly pumping out, soaking through the fabric. He really had no choice but to bare it all to her, slipping and fumbling with the effort to get his minimal coverings completely removed for her. Then it was just him, kneeling behind her, dick absolutely trembling and spitting just by being near her, feeling her textures, breathing her scent, waiting for her approval.

“Go on. Dive in. Rub yourself on my back. Glide up and down my spine, if you want.”

Though phrased as a suggestion, he heard the command in her voice. All it was going to take was saying no to a single suggestion of hers to make her violent. He was [i]sure[/i] of that. At least her requests had been reasonable so far. The only fear was what she was going to do if he ended up cumming all over her. He twitched and trembled just looking at her, and all those glistening stripes. Nothing could have been more enticing. As strange as it felt to start rubbing himself all over until his fur carried a shiny gloss of oil, he didn’t hesitate. It was time to make a blanket of himself.

Stretching across her body made the trembling worse. It passed through his entire self, but especially his cock. It pulsed and leaked on her skin as he rubbed up against her. Only then did it occur to him that he wasn’t going to be able to follow her command without outright grinding on her. Biting his lip as he finally let his shaft touch her skin, expecting some sort of backlash for such a bold move, he breathed deep when she didn’t react. The first slow, slick slide was just to test how it felt, extending that [i]schlicccck[/i] to obscene length, glossing his shaft from the base of her spine to the middle of her shoulder blades, and back down again.

A soft hum from her lips was all the encouragement he needed. He kept going, more enthusiastically, ignoring the fatigue in his muscles. Slipping and sliding over her spine, grinding her, humping her even. His fear gave way to enthusiasm - or perhaps fuelled it, the longer he went. Each thrust sent the bed creaking all the more, giving a slight wobble to her curves. It might not have been the normal sort, but in some sloppy way, he was having sex with his huge, deadly crush, and it felt incredible just to be so near her, touching her, indulging in her, breathing her as he let his head lay beside her neck. He couldn’t hide his whimpers when he was so close to her ear.

His hips were moving all on their own. He knew only the pleasure of grinding on her oiled skin, huffing in her ear. Kalypso did nothing to discourage him. She raised her hips slightly and rolled with his thrusts, slowly nodding her head, arms still folded under her cheek. It was all part of the massage to her, or so she acted. The slickness of every stroke took its toll. Obie couldn’t hold back any longer. All the excitement, all the intimidation made that friction all the more intense, until he rubbed up against one particular contour of her muscled back he found particularly sexy and lost all remaining traces of self-control.

His satisfaction and relief was quickly drowned by horror. He was cumming [i]all over[/i] her. Those long, thick ropes were particularly impressive for a possum his size. She was making him cum like a zebra, with just the touch of her skin and her commands. He tried to squirm away, but he painted her, adding some vertical swipes of white to go with all her stripes. Emptying his twitching balls until he was left tender and writhing in the aftermath, he panted, slumping, sitting behind her ass to watch her slowly raise her head and regard him with a small smile. He couldn’t read her expression for her true intent, but she spoke without apparent anger.

“Oh, Obie. Silly creature. You realize that means it’s my turn, right?”

He watched her for a few moments, wondering exactly how she meant that. There was no chance to ask her. Like a disturbed spider, she moved from her dormant state with a sudden flash of speed. A body her size looked as if it was never even [i]meant[/i] to be moved with such coordination and haste alike. Her fingers were around his throat. He never saw her lunge, only felt the results. Down he went to the bed, clutching at her wrist but failing to pry her loose as she pounced and pinned him down, laying her weight over his naked, prone form, slapping her fat cock right atop his body to reach from his waist to his face.

When she pressed down on him, he got squished to the bed so tightly he could barely breathe. Clawing at her fingers slowly squeezing the last of the air out of his throat did nothing to help him, or dissuade her. Kalypso held him there, slowly crushing him with her sheer size as she rolled those hips again. Grinding on his trapped body meant sometimes rubbing her shaft up against his own. Aside from the humiliation that came with comparing such disparate sizes, there was the wince-worthy overstimulation of taking in that pleasure so shortly after his own orgasm. She didn’t let that stop her.

Eventually she let him go, only to snuff out his chance of properly gasping for air when she pressed down even more firmly over his body. Obie ended up with his muzzle wedged snugly between Kalypso’s breasts, feeling their oiled curves squishing in on both sides of his face. He was suffocating under her, slowly. She allowed him the occasional gasp in between her thrusts, but those two were becoming more aggressive. Demonstrating her power in those long, lunging strokes of her cock, grinding from his balls to his belly and chest, smearing him in even more of her juices along with plenty of the oil he hadn’t fully rubbed into her glossy skin, she left him struggling. His muffled pleas for mercy barely reached her ears, and his feeble pushing and tapping at his body were easy for her to ignore.

Her scent was especially potent the harder she worked herself to hump him deep into his own bed. Caught up in her humid cleavage, his desperate gasps gave him little more than her musk. He ended up outright drinking some of her sweat with his mouth open like that. It ran down his throat to join the precum he’d licked off her dick. That was oozing more thickly from her flexing, flaring shaft with every thrust. It splattered over the boy’s body, until she finally released him from her bust so she could shoot it right in his face. She wasn’t even cumming yet, and it already felt like he was drowning under all that mess, getting his face drenched down to the skin in a potent, soaking scent he didn’t see washing out of his fur or braided hair anytime soon.

It was only going to get stronger. He thought he was going to pass out from musk alone for a moment, but he remained conscious long enough to listen to her puffing, even snorting. Those heavier sounds gave way to her moan, a deep, seductive thing refined through practice. She knew exactly how to make the most arousing orgasmic sounds possible, even if he feared the results. That flare flexed broader, her balls bulged and swelled, then tightened. A flick of her tail and a twitch of the muscles beneath her curves, and she blew her load all over his prone body.

Sputtering and coughing his way through that full-force cumshot, tenderized by the brutal thrusts, still slowly suffocating, Obie was helpless to defend himself. She hosed him down and left him painted almost pure white, thoroughly drenched and half-drowned by the time the rest of her load started pouring over the size of his bed and splashing down to the floor. Plenty more soaked into the sheets, staining them eternally with a rich, raunchy zebra scent. His room filled with steam and her sweat rained down on him as she drained her balls, making a show of just how much she enjoyed it with those moans and shouts muffled in his ears thanks to all the zebra cum inside them.

Waterlogged and shaken, the possum slowly raised a hand to wipe his features in the aftermath. The zebra had left him nearly encased in her cum, soaked so thoroughly he felt as if he’d fallen into a great pool of pure jizz. It created a writhing panic when he realized he couldn’t breathe at all for several seconds, only to cough enough of it up to wheeze and hyperventilate himself back to life. Kalypso didn’t help him with any of it. At least she took her weight off him, leaving him to struggle for air without being crushed, but it wasn’t much. He was nowhere near fully recovered yet, but she didn’t give him a moment longer.

Seizing him under the arms, letting her own cum squish against her naked body, she shushed him when he whimpered and hauled him off from the sex-soaked room.

“Look at you. You’re a mess. A little pathetic really, but I like them that way. Let’s get you to the shower.”

For whatever reason, those were the words that truly set him panicking. He’d never sensed such dread, such [i]intent[/i] behind such a simple statement before, and yet he just knew. She’d already made up her mind, he told himself. That she spared a hand for one of the cameras, hauling it along to make sure she didn’t miss what she was going to do to him there was not a good sign. He thrashed about as best he could on the way to the bathroom, fearing what terrible thing she was going to do to him under the water. Yet when they finally got there, despite his objections, all she did was reach out and turn the water on. It was nice and cool in contrast to that blazing night, bringing him at least some relief when she hauled him in with her.

There wasn’t much room in there for the two of them. Lacking a tub, there was just the stall, and her ass was already squished against the glass as the steam rose from her sweaty, sex-coated stripes. He hardly had anywhere to go. Even as the water poured over them both and washed away her cum and sweat, he was still struggling for air. When she set him down on his feet, he slowly slipped down the solid wall until he fell to his knees, right in humping range.

Pressing her balls right into his face left him grasping at her hips, and patting her on the ass like he was trying to tap out of a fight. There was no referee to stop her from pinning his head between the solid shower wall and her big fat sack, smothering him hard enough to leave imprints of the tiles on the back of his head. A slow swing of her hips to hump his pointed muzzle and squish his nose right on that centre spot between her balls left him huffing her remaining musk in those gasps of rising panic. The water pouring down her glistening form hadn’t yet washed that away. Maybe nothing could.

“Do you have anything that doesn’t smell like trees?” she said, scoffing as she sorted through his bottles, ignoring his plight.

Of course it was making him hard again. Obie didn’t even acknowledge the thump of his cock against his middle. Bullying him with her size like that was exactly the sort of thing he found hot, no matter how much danger he was in. He struggled, but the feeling of her so effortlessly overpowering him made him harder. The water rolled down her shoulders, sticking her dyed locks and braids to her head, but doing nothing to diminish the colour. She washed herself with his soaps and didn’t let him up until she was done, letting all that sudsy water splashed down over his trapped self. Respite only came when she was finished, leaving her stripes glistening and smelling all the sweeter than ever. She inched back, as much as she could in that confined space.

“Okay. You know which way I’m leaning, at this point. But I’ll give you [i]one[/i] more chance to prove you’re worth keeping, no matter how much you deserve this.”

The way she said it was enough to almost convince him he did. He’d seen those sudden spins before, pivoting on her heavy hooves like that. Usually she was on stage when she turned with such grace. This time, it was just to give him one more good look at her thick, round ass before she backed it right into his dazed face, immersing him beneath her tail, letting the remaining sweat cling to his features. The sound of the water came muffled for how deeply enveloped in those striped cheeks he was. He didn’t need to hear any sort of command anyway to know exactly what to do.

A long, warm lick across the dark ring of that jet black donut brought a distant moan from her. Maybe she was exaggerating, just to tease him. Maybe he really was that talented with his tongue. There was no room to maneuver, nowhere to go but deeper, and so he worked, letting her all but sit on his face, smothering him in her lingering musk while he ate her out. She didn’t mind if he went in deep, nearly shoving his face inside her with the eager and perhaps desperate effort to please her before she completely suffocated him. He needed to hurry. His head was already spinning, his body slumping deeper down to the floor of the overcrowded shower stall, soaking in the accumulating water that had nowhere to drain.

It felt like she was going to force him right through the wall or maybe just crush his head with all the weight she put on him. He rimmed her until she gave a solid snort, the kind she couldn’t hold back when something felt that damn good. His eyes were blank and his chest was aching by the time she lifted up from his features and left him a glazed mess, sputtering and struggling to recover even as she forced him to his feet, and then a little higher, pinning him to the wall so they were at face level for her to speak and him to gasp.

“Not bad, Obie. But I know boys like you. You’re all about the big finish. Taking it all. You [i]live[/i] for getting fucked by bigger, stronger women. Or are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

She slowly let him sink back down to stand, still confined with her but able to to move again. His eyes strayed briefly to the left. The shower door was closed, though that hadn’t prevented the water from flooding to the floor. It was going to be slippery out there. Yet no risk was greater than that he took every single moment he shared the room with her. She was stiff, and he could see exactly what she wanted from him in her eyes. It was more than sex. He had one chance. Only the swiftest, most sudden action could get him out of that situation anymore.

He dashed. The possum could move with plenty of speed when he wasn’t panicked into inaction. Throwing the door open and hurling himself outwards to stumble and scramble for the bathroom door almost worked. Maybe she let him think he had a chance. Yet when he made that leap for freedom, unsure where he’d go or how he’d ever hide from her and her employers, he found himself falling short. She had him, by the tip of his tail. Just in time. He screamed his way back to the shower when she started reeling him in, roughly dragging his soaked body over the floor and back into her embrace.

“No no no no no, please, wait, [i]please![/i]”

“Oh yes. Come here, boy. I’ve been thinking about doing this to you ever since I first saw you.”

She dropped all pretense of treating him with care, and he didn’t bother with obedience anymore. As soon as he was back in her clutches, she forced him against the wall, slamming his struggling body there, letting the water continue to steam up their surroundings as the camera at least partly captured the steamy scene. One shove of her cock under his tail was enough to tell him he definitely couldn’t take it. She was going to hurt him, damage him, and maybe so much worse than that, if she insisted. Yet Kalypso kept pushing, letting the beating of the water against their bodies and the glass around them drown out some of his screams.

Penetrating him with that slicked up cock, slippery oil still clinging to it, resisting the water, sent a shock through his body that silenced him for a time. He shook his head and fell deeper into her embrace, with one of her powerful arms around his throat. She gripped just tightly enough to choke him without giving him the option of passing out from lack of air. Maybe he was just going to faint anyway. That was his first instinct when he felt that enormous girth pushing, pushing, and spreading him out once she penetrated him, sinking mercilessly deeper. Playing dead wasn’t an option if she wasn’t afraid of killing him with all that cock.

Just an inch or two inside, and he was already wailing out between choked gasps. She was so much bigger than him, stretching his insides to their limit with her flared tip, driving some sensation into his prostate that hardly felt like pleasure. The stimulation was overwhelming at best, and painful all the other times. She wasn’t gentle. Maybe she knew how to fuck without completely breaking her bottom bitch, but every inch she thrust deeper inside the possum left him changed, transformed around her girth to be nothing more than a vessel for her cock. He was never going to be the same, and she was barely inside.

More than just fucking him, raping him in his own shower, in front of a camera, she pushed deeper. It wasn’t enough just to humiliate and hurt him. She risked his life a little more with every inch she gave him, stuffing him what he swore was going to be his breaking point, and then going a little deeper. His hole stretched around her, flexing desperately, but not with pleasure. She sent so much sensation to his sore prostate that he found himself uncomfortably erect, like it was coming from unnatural means and not arousal. His own dick might have throbbed for her, but each pulse only made him grit his teeth all the harder.

That was her being gentle. She was done showing that same mercy, once he hit the middle of her cock. Popping that medial ring past his resistance gave him a jolt of pain that sent him briefly slumping. He might have passed out for a few moments, but the relief of unconsciousness never fully reached him. It would have been so much better for him if he just fainted, and stayed that way. Anything was better than watching that obscene bulge of zebra cock rising higher and higher in his belly, until she was in so deep he could feel the pressure on his chest, as if slowly drowning him. She still wasn’t even close to balls-deep.

Kalypso fucked him the whole time. She didn’t just ignore his struggles. She used those jerks and spasms of pain to her advantage, following them along, incorporating them into her brutal rhythm just to make each thrust hurt more. He felt like she was smashing him apart inside. It wasn’t so much a process of ripping him apart as it felt more like he was simply breaking. Crunching and crackling under the force of her swinging hips driving that dick deeper into his backside was twisting him up in ways he never knew a body was capable of. His screams were starting to sound more like gurgles. There was blood coming up his throat.

The longer she worked him, the more furiously she pounded, throwing her weight behind every blow, holding nothing back. Her shaft was frightfully rigid inside him, spreading him out all the more with each deep, wet stroke. His heart felt like it was barely beating. Maybe he was already dying. He could feel her balls starting to slap against him with her thrusts, even if she hadn’t made it all the way inside. Those churning, potent tanks only added more impact to every motion, to every body-breaking thrust. Yet even as his body broke down internally, there was enough of him still functioning to get forced to orgasm, whether he wanted to or not.

It surged up inside of him. He was whimpering for her to stop, though he couldn’t find the words. Sometimes he swore she was shooting that prejizz right through him, leaving him to drool and choke on it when she bottomed out. All that force, all that pressure was grinding over his tender button over and over. She wasn’t paying any particular attention to his prostate, but her thrusts abused it nonetheless. He could feel himself swelling, going taut. His dick was hard enough he thought it was just going to rupture, but instead she brought a sudden, shocking, stifling orgasm out of him that left him cumming harder than he ever had, or ever would again.

From stiffly painting the shower wall with his spunk, to softening and trickling something thinner and much more watery. That orgasm kept thrumming through him, beaten out by her battering thrusts, but nothing was coming out anymore, after nearly a minute of that. His cock flopped over his balls, limp and unresponsive, broken from the inside. He was never going to use that thing again, and if that was the only lasting damage to him he would have called himself lucky. The water washed his last cumshot down the drain, mixing in with the crimson dripping down from some unspecified internal injury.

When his cock was completely soft, fully ruined, she went off. Maybe it was knowing she’d done such permanent damage to him that made her cum so hard. Maybe she was just tired of teasing him, all pent up like that. With his insides raked and damaged, the rush of her hot cum flowing into him on that first powerful shot only made everything sting all the worse. She didn’t stop to drain her balls inside him, either. She fucked that spunk inside him, squeezing it back out with the force of her slams and lunges. He ended up battered against that wall so hard he swore he was going to cave in. Something bent and cracked in a way it wasn’t supposed to, adding to the numbing pain all through his body while she flooded him to overflowing.

He wasn’t meant to take that much cock, nor that much cum either. His belly swelled, and not to a pleasantly round, bred size. He was obscenely bloated until he swore he was going to burst, to explode from the sheer volume of zebra cum getting dumped deep into his body. The possum couldn’t thrash anymore. He let his arms drop and his head droop to his chest, defeated, until he started coughing. That cum needed somewhere to go, and he hacked it up until he could breathe again once her murderous dick finally stopped pulsing inside of him.

Kalypso didn’t soften. Not for a second. She pulled him away from the wet wall and let him dangle there, impaled on most of her cock. With how deep she was inside of him, she didn’t even need to hold him up with her hands. Her cock supported his entire weight, minuscule compared to her own. His own shaft flopped about, shrunken and soft, never to feel another orgasm except for the watery squirts she allowed him. Displaying her prize to the camera, the zebra stepped out and carelessly towelled off, still dripping on the way back to the bedroom with her victim helpless to stop her.

She didn’t bother to pull her cock out of him to reposition him. Instead, she grabbed him by the arms and harshly twisted him around on her cock. The inner damage only got worse, even with all the extra lubrication of her cum. Worse was the sheer harshness of her grip, bending his arms to a breaking point. A pop told him she’d probably dislocated one of his arms, at least. The [i]CRUNCH[/i] that followed was much less ambiguous. It wasn’t worth wailing about when he was already in a world of pain. His eyes watered a little more, at most, as he struggled to meet her unflinching gaze.

The deadly zebra was all focus as she forced him against another wall. That one was harder, and the position was all the worse for him. She lifted his legs and draped them over her shoulders to get a better angle at his ass, driving into him deeper and deeper while his naked tail drooped down to the floor, lifeless as the rest of him was on its way to being. Yet he still endured, faintly writhing, with the occasional burst of struggles easily suppressed by her grip when his second, third, and fourth winds all hit in close succession. Technically he was still fighting her, but that didn’t stop her from raping him in his bedroom with the cameras capturing her flexing ass going into every horrible thrust.

This time he could get a better look at the bulge travelling up and down his body, pressing into his chest, further spreading out those partly shattered ribs. The way she was bending him in half like that brought his hips further and further out of joint. She smacked into him until she was nearly three quarters of the way inside him, swinging her nuts to spank him with every motion. Her thrusts drove his spine into the wall, adding further numbness to his legs once his hips were out of place. Which was only the start of the damage she did to his pelvis.

Popping out those joints was one thing. The harder she fucked, sweating again, huffing in his face, gritting her teeth in a flat snarl of sorts, the more she shattered him. She was demolishing him from the hips down, bending his legs so far back they started to splinter, smashing his hips to shards. His soft cock bobbed up and down with every thrust she gave him, still soft, still unresponsive. That burst of pleasure when she popped his prostate was the last one he was going to get. Everything else was just pain, pain, pain as she unmade his body a little more with her killer fuck.

He knew the damage was serious when he got a faint, blurred glimpse of her blood-coated cock, gliding back and forth on that natural crimson lubrication. It was more than just his bones. She was ruining him, gravely wounding him with every stroke. The sheer amount pooling in the crease between her balls made him wonder why he hadn’t bled out yet. His sheer resilience kept his pulse going, and pushed back the temptation of passing out, no matter how it hurt to feel her fucking the blood out of him, drilling a hole through his body with the power of her desires.

“Keep going,” she told him, as if encouraging him in the haze of misery. “Don’t die yet.”

[i]Yet[/i]. He knew on some level she was going to kill him from the moment she entered his home. Yet it felt worse to have that last glimpse of hope snuffed out by her mere words. She’d already done enough damage to him to likely prove fatal anyway. He didn’t know why he was disappointed. Some part of him endured anyway, too stubborn to let her kill him just yet, or maybe it was still some small shred of obedience within his ruined body that wanted to do exactly as she told him, even as she murdered him with his cock, fucking the life right out of him.

This time, she didn’t finish inside him. Instead, she pulled him away from the wall, letting his body fall back and dangle, arms above his head. Another spin of him on her cock, screwing him deeper down her dick further opened those inner wounds and mangled everything from his stretched and ruined hole to the deepest depths of his backside. He swore she had her dick all the way in his belly by then, jostling it around with the rest of her cum. There were no screams left to muffle when she planted him face down on his own bed once more and got on top of him.

The sheets were still stained in her sweat and scent, one he found himself intimately acquainted with all the more when she pushed him down to the mattress and got on top of him. From there, her weight was slowly crushing him, serving to test and slowly snap his ribs one by one. Her heft alone was enough to squeeze all the more blood out of him as if from a sponge. It flowed from his mouth, or even from his eyes when she put enough pressure on, to say nothing of the rampant bleeding that came from his overstretched, demolished hole. She painted her balls a little more red with every ruthless plap.

Yet the most damage of all came from her cock. His insides were all rearranged around it, throbbing in concerning ways. They weren’t so much tearing as they were being simply shredded, as if she was working to completely hollow him out, to core him like an apple. His breathing was shallow and his heart was beating weakly, and yet he lived on. When he entertained the thought of just closing his eyes and trying to die, she slapped him from behind.

“No. Stay awake, Obie. You’ve proven you’re a tough boy. I’m not letting you out of this until I’m done with you.”

One blow was to get his attention. The rest was simply to rough him up a little more, striking him with a fist a few times. It felt like he’d been struck by a moving vehicle. Stunned and battered, already bruising from her knocking him around, disoriented by the ache inside his skull, he didn’t have much fight left in him when she started up her hurtful rhythm once more. That position was the worst one yet. It let her put all her power into every thrust, somehow getting another inch inside of him, then another. She was going to go all the way, and he wasn’t going to last.

He was collapsing. His body was getting all the blood squeezed out of it by the pressure of her weight on his back. He couldn’t breathe. Yet that was still not as catastrophic as the seam spreading up from his taint. Like a great crevice in the planet, she was splitting him in two under all that pressure. She didn’t stop. Nothing would stop her. She fucked him until his orgasms were almost entirely pulped, and yet there was still enough left him to keep that heart beating and those lungs drawing the bare minimum amount of breath he needed to sustain himself a little longer. He was a stubborn possum, even as she unmade his entire being with the power of her cock.

No matter how much damage she did to him, no matter how much he was bleeding internally, no matter how mangled his body was, twisted and mashed down into the bed, crushed into obscene shapes by her weight coming down on him again and again, Obie wasn’t going to just die. She had to kill him herself. All she had to do was to keep doing what she was doing, fucking his twitching body while he fought to cling onto the last torturous seconds of his existence, for some reason. It would have been so much easier to just give in. Yet he held on even as she ripped him in half, splitting him up the middle, spreading his legs wider and wider until he finally erupted, and not in orgasm.

That seam ripped all the way to his throat, exposing him, leaving all his efforts in vein when he started rapidly bleeding out. His body had finally given in, even if he hadn’t. Twitching and choking, coughing up buckets of blood, he was left to endure the continued pounding from the zebra while his thoughts started to blacken. Kalypso snorted, gnashed her teeth, even drooled for a moment in the sheer ferocity of her rising pace. Finishing him off got her more worked up than anything he could have ever done for her with his hands or tongue.

The climax pulsed through her body with that wreckage of a possum on her cock, almost completely torn in half by her splitting thrusts, like driving a maul through nice soft wood. She leaned close to snort and huff in his ear, listening to his dying gasps. He was almost gone, almost murdered by her massive, boy-breaking zebra dick, and it made her flare out, made her flag her tail and toss her head, flipping her hair about. It all came to a finish in a braying cry of bliss and one more huge lunge forward, somehow even harsher than anything before, to truly end that pretty boy.

There was still some last trace of resistance, something inside him she hadn’t fully ruined. Her cock was coming up his throat by then, pushing against some solid flesh that tore under the pressure of her driving lust. She was out of control by then. Fucking as hard as she could meant she was ruining the bed as much as his body, collapsing its legs, sagging is springs, and smashing its owner into little more than fleshy dust. Her rhythm was manic, furious, but she brought it all to a finish with one more powerful lunge forth, with every last trace of her power. The result was the wet noise of flesh tearing and bones breaking all at once.

[i]SCRNNNCH[/i]

That last thrust into the mangled, shredded, half-crushed body of the helpless possum let her finally punch right through to the other side. Kalypso didn’t end up finishing her last cumshot inside of him after all. Her flared tip pushed up his throat out his open mouth, turning him into a fountain, fully impaled, dying on her cock while she erupted all over his bloodied bedroom. Slamming all her weight into what remained of him helped her crush the last remaining life out of his body in the middle of her orgasm. There was no final scream, barely more than a gurgle while he twitched his last, mashed to mush, pulped inside and out, squeezed into a bloodied sack of broken bones and ruined organs by the time she finally stopped thrusting.

When there was no more damage to be done, no more misery to milk from her victim, Kalypso quickly pulled her shaft back out of his ruined hole. It was easy when there were no remaining inner muscles to give her any resistance. She shed him like a second skin, letting the few solid pieces of his mutilated corpse fall to the floor, pooling in the crimson he hadn’t already bled out while she murdered him with her cock. Her orgasm wasn’t finished. He might have been fully dead, but she had an audience to please, and she knew precisely how ravenous they were for the sight of her disrespecting the stupid, dead femboy she’d just fucked to death.

First, she simply stroked her dick, aiming the continued pulses of another immense cumshot all over his remains. She painted the floor pink when all that zebra jizz mixed with his blood, almost completely washing him away with the musky torrent. A snort and a huff escaped her in the midst of that climax. It might have been her best, most productive one of the night. Delivering the fatal blow had a way of doing that. She flexed and stretched an arm behind her head, swung her hips, and [i]performed[/i] in a way she hadn’t since the sheer bloodlust had taken over. The camera loved her, and she loved to tease all those sadistic viewers who were sure to find such a video.

Once she had painted the dead boy with jizz and her cock finally started softening, she made absolutely certain he was really dead and ruined beyond recognition. That involved her hooves. She had to admit, feeling his skull [i]crunch[/i] under her weight made her dick twitch a little more. She walked over his body, pressing his broken limbs down flat, mashing his torso to the floor, stomping a few times on some particularly stubborn bones that were still intact.

Yet she knew she could go further. Her cock was soft. Fucking him for hours meant she hadn’t had time for a piss break. The room was already ruined, painted with its owner's blood and his killer’s cum. And she knew her audience. Taking her red-stained shaft in both hands, swinging it into position, she gave a deep sigh and released that tension, spraying the flattened shreds of Obie’s body with a hot, golden stream, nearly flooding his bedroom once that high-pressure jet of zebra piss really got going. She defiled him until she was satisfied, and took the moment, looming over his disrespected corpse to spit on what little was left of him just to really drive her point home.

Looming above her kill, and what little was left recognizable of what had been a fine, soft boy, she gave him a sendoff that was only for the forthcoming audience.

“Maybe you deserved that. Maybe not. It really doesn’t matter to me. Your greatest crime in my eyes was being such a cute, fuckable boy and getting my attention.” She looked right at the camera. “Who should I kill next?”

She felt that was an adequate stopping point. Kaly could edit out the part where she walked over and turned off the camera. She didn’t bother hiding her tracks, of course. There were hoofprints in the blood, all the way back down the stairs she climbed up to meet her victim, and evidence of her misdeeds on the camera, soon to be ready for distribution in the darkest corners of the web. There were many who knew precisely what she did, and none who stopped her.