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My Gym Partner's Bro Tends The Privates

Part Three.

By Eightane

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"GAHHH", he exclaimed, stumbling over a hard rise in the Earth.

It was answered with a snicker. "Smooth, man", came the gravelly bass. "Thought you mountain goats were supposed to be sure-footed."

"We are." Snapped the grey male, his Arkansas twang spitting-peeved from beneath his horns. "Just like I'm sure I'll put this hoof up yerr ass, if you keep on." He smiled to the bear, beside him in a long, lazy procession. Fifteen soldiers, the wettest and most dingy from the march, on double-file pace to a single structure; bricked in, beneath vents pouring endless steam.

The seven feet of brown, hefty stature paid him back, with a look of unbelief... It was set low to meet the spindly billy's features. "Oh, I know. It's not like I could make your head into a football, at will." He gazed even lower, and a bit behind, to his pal's rear... Unseen, as he surveyed the fabric by that bush-of-a-tail. It was tight, packed like sardines in two curved hills; split by a long, dark, drenched line. He gritted fangs, behind his grimace. "Josh, man, I'm buying you some talc or something. That's just... That's just wrong."

The goat glanced up, as his company's disgust played out. His brow set level, miffed, familiar enough with the implication. "If sweat gits you sick, what the

hell're you doin' here?"

The bear's offense left by a chuckle, sounding his impatience. "For the twelvth time: Electives. That GI Bill's a lifesaver." Near the end, his tone waxed serious.

"Yeah, yeah, so y' told me. Still love t' see what you do with that Psych degree. Roland Grizzly, therapist..." A broad, condescending sweep of his hand. "Just sounds so-dern marketable."

"Boy, Lain's a bad enough sentence." Bear's sarcastic smirk. "Don't make me take it out on you, I might like it too much to quit."

Forty feet from their target, Josh peered over his shoulder, bony elbow knocking into Roland's side. "Hey... Check it out..."

The bear, catching that whisper's subtlety, stayed nonchalant while turning. Large pupils caught the intended, to which they winced; A two-foot prairie dog, soaked from collar to calves. So moist around his pits, you could squeeze half a bucket's worth.

No subtlety in how Roland wrenched away, whipping forward in a gag. His hand raised and laid to his stomach in reflex while Josh's did the same for his laughter.

"Thought'ch might appreciate it," Josh stated, through a barrage of chortles.

Roland's head shook firm, before it stuck with his focus on the goat. "Enjoy your last shower... You're a dead man walking."

The billy's laughs carried on, until punctuated by a soft gasp. Again, the elbow pushed into Roland, who resisted the urge to crush it like chalk in his palm.

"What," the stronger seethed. "Just tell me."

"Nah, man, y' gotta see..."

"Gotta-my-fat-ass. Just say what it is, you've spent that nickel."

Instead of an elbow, a grey fist, shoved lightly into his haunch. Faced with two choices - making mincemeat of the goat, with witnesses, or swallowing pride and simply humouring him - he took the more practical. Josh's stare skewed far to the left; his own went likewise, and met with something rather non-nauseating.

"Wow, that guy's got the right idea." He observed, while the orange, casual form closed in on them, street-clothed and hardly exhausted.

Josh, if anything, was more shocked than his friend, at the approaching stranger. When a mere five yards parted them, he gave the natural question. "Hey, you change before you git clean?"

A monkey's smile, solid and sinfully confident. "You know it..." He stared far behind them, towards the gaggle of canvas tents; the real recruits' personal space. Meantime, the proper lies came easy. "Can't stay in those duds any longer than I have to. Makes me think about the bullshit that much longer, feel me?" A simple quip... And one conveniently non-specific.

Josh's head bobbed in agreement. "They must give you th' easy work, man, y' don't even look tired."

Roland, a bit more unsure, supplied a puzzled nod of his own. The monkey's lips kept in upward turn, even while his mental wheels spun. A pause, just too short to be awkward, as he chuckled. "Blame genetics, man. We monk's are spry 'til the day we die. Plus," he gazed to the building, as a different group exited, clothed but damp on the furrier faces. His mind now the tiniest bit stressed, frantic to picture anything that wouldn't bring on premature wood; A certain lunch lady's rack did the trick, as he fought to keep his shudders at bay. "Sapped or not, the thought of losin' this grime is good motive."

"Psh," the grizzly threw, with positivity. "That's no lie." Ten feet to the doorway, for which he'd barely fit, and all three felt the rise in humidity. "Feels like I laid on a bed of lumberjacks, and just rolled around for an hour."

Jerr's eyes slammed shut, as he whispered a strong "God-damnit", made for what so-nearly poked from his pelvic fuzz. Timing was essential; but if they made a quick entrance, maybe plans could stay uncompromised. He gazed behind, to thirteen others, all mammalian menfolk. Before stepping past the threshold, blue orbs danced over each of them; porcupine, buck, lemur, tiger, buffalo, dolphin and more, each filthy, damp, with their own build and their own share of bulge. No clue, of how they'd each behave... It would be his finest challenge yet. They watched him in turn, naturally, his being the odd and unknown standout... But none could see close enough under that shirt, and what had started to grow its way out.

His legs aped Roland's pace not even able to hope of being able to mimic that stride at less than half the height. Three of Jerr's footprints, for every one of the bear's; his sight darting from the ground - and such a huge pair of paws - to an indiscreet glance further up: by the bend of mighty legs, and two broad curves bouncing low in their gait. Jerr's mind flowed simple, just one track through the moment. His head cocked lazily, calmly; lips curled high on one side. "Yo, beardude."

"Roland," he was corrected, as they made entry. The auburn giant squeezed his way through, third to be bathed in beaming skylights.

"Cool. You ever watch '300', Roland?"

*********************************************************************************************

It was an oven. No less.

Sure, the captain was suffering, huge fingers sliding by his collar to loosen it. In his other hand, a maple-glazed donut, chomped down to half a ring. Semi-hunkered down in that hell-of-a-communications-building, a dull grey CD player crackling as it trilled [4] over the elephant's mumbled curses. A 90-degree day, electronics that seemed to breathe pure heat, and ventilation slits no bigger than a brick. It could still be worse; he could've been the one he stood watching, a stern raccoon kneeled by the bundle of wires; holding some in badly-scarred mitts, their disfigured canyons lifting to reveal the ports behind.

"Find it yet, Lieutenant?"

Raccoon swung the bundle higher, to the left, while he scrutinized hole-after-hole. "Think you could say that, sir. And I almost wish you couldn't." His silky tenor, in Oregon-tinted sarcasm. "W'djou wanna step over here? It's the damndest thing I've ever seen."

Jim considered, but then recalled years past, his own time in this striped under's place. "Well, that's not so good an idea, Seth", he cleared his throat, before ending the treat with one bite. "My fingers are glazed like hell." Broken syllables, in that mouthful. "I'm sure I'll get the gist, if you just lay it out for me."

Raccoon's brow furrowed, while he brought the lightest whisper. "Your eyes aren't glazed. Unlike mine, watching you pile the pounds on that sagging, wrinkly ass." He leaned forward, and took a certain blue cord to hook it in the first USB slot. His volume returned to normal. "If you told me this was a professional job, I wouldn't doubt you for a second. Every cord was pulled out, and check this shit..." He grabbed the bundle, swinging it towards the captain. "See how they're all twisted into each other?"

The captain licked at his fingers, his face brimming with confusion. "They're not always like that? I just.... *belch* ... Thought you don't clean house too well."

A second time for the raccoon to grumble, something about 'conscious detachment'. "No, I keep 'em straight and separate, like they were not three hours ago. I check it myself, every morning." He grasped a green wire, slightly shaking it as he proceeded. "Guess that shows me, for leaving to eat at the PX. Whatever assclown broke his way in, either knew what the fuck he was doing, or at least knew how to make sure it'll spend a shitty day of my time."

At last, the captain seemed to care. "... A full day?" He adjusted his posture, and formed a stiff lip. "Not acceptable, Seth, this is a full-alarm incident. If we can't regain a bridge outside-"

"I know that, sir, but I'm one man on a job for three here. Just to unwind this chaos is fifteen in itself-"

"-First Lieutenant." The captain bellowed, voice cracking and shifting to a dry cough.

The raccoon kept his sigh soft and controlled. "... Yes, sir, I'll speed it along."

"*wheeze* Good. Those hands of yours are clearly experienced. I expect nothing less."

The lieutenant's face drew in, like the first of a bitter taste. Flashing back to how his hands were 'transformed', and how a junior-high lesson to respect fireworks had nothing to do with here and now. He snatched up a yellow cord, fastening to the Ethernet port...

... As the pair jumped, at an unexpected "Well, well."

They turned to the oak door, in perfect synchronicity. It creaked open, with a seal's hand pushing it. Sergeant and 1st Lieutenant saluted and Captain returned. Neither of the broiling senior officers, noticed the spring in Lain's step, from the door to a kneel beside the tech officer.

First thing from the seal's mouth, an impressed whistle, one elbow perched on his knee. "Shit, Seth, now I know why you got that mansion on the East side." His disingenuous pat of the raccoon's back, while he gawked at the maelstrom of wires. "A real hero's station, right here."

The ringtail's face welled with disdain, still untangling the mass line-by-line. "It's a modest ranch. And it's yours for a week, if you'll switch places." The first twinge of his smirk, all morning. "Can't be that hard to scream at kids all day. Ask my daycare attendant."

"Heheh... Deal."

Lain wasted no time, all-but-pushing the raccoon away. Whether or not Seth was genuine, the invite was welcomed, while seal's tongue squirmed across his grizzled chops. "I took a few choice courses, as a young buck. Here, I'll show you the ropes like they used to do." His digits moved like lightning; raccoon watched close, enough to believe and allow him.

Few would think the sergeant could move that quick, with such an intricate task. He pulled each wire in turn, no more than two seconds spent on each before it was shoved within its rightful place. Seth's jaw dropped, simply marvelling, unaware of just how rapid he was shown up. Jim also watched, a tad more curiously; if the raccoon - their godsend tech junkie - didn't see a problem, he had no real cause to impede them. But something about this, didn't quite feel right.

"Bada-boom," Lain quipped on the three-minute mark, a spread of straight, untangled wires in his wake. "We're back in business." He raised up, slow as the norm for his age, and looked to the flabbergasted 'coon. "I'll be a good sport, and not expect you to lay down those keys. You'd prob'ly have the place trashed anyway, with old toys and Oriental posters." His pause was just long enough to enjoy Seth's pout-sneer. Lieutenant, Captain," His parting salute, to a speechless 'coon and elephant. "Never thought I'd say this, but nice workin' with ya. If I make myself a liar, you know where to find me."

The lieutenant, taken aback, only nodded like he'd witnessed a miracle. "I do owe you, Lain. This Friday, we'll knock back some Boilermakers, on me."

"Now that's a goddamn deal." He simply left, with the captain staring after him uncertain.

When elephant at last turned to speak, the raccoon preempted him, still in shock. "That, was... I almost feel like I don't deserve to have watched that. Sure schooled the hell out of me."

Jim twiddled his thumbs, before sneering in disgust at how they stuck together. "How closely did you watch what he did?"

"More than enough, to see they went to the correct socket. Rest easy cap', it's my station after all."

The elephant was still unconvinced, but unready to question the 'pro' any further. "*sigh* Fine, I'll go inform the Colonel. Maybe now, we canBLLACCH-"

More unannounced guests; two privates, that burst so quick through the door, its knob stamped a dent in the wall. Jim's yelp was due to one falling over him, beak driven hard to his knee. While he doubled over, the condor splayed on the floor, and the elk stood behind, just mortified. No less so than the raccoon, when he saw the bird's condition; hills of swelling bumps, beneath his feathers' sheen, gasping as he pushed himself up on both hands.

The antler-ed private shook, as his hands cupped his forehead. "C-captain sir, I'm soooo sorry, I-" He dropped to the floor, starting what came by instinct. "One, two, three-"

"Ah-hhhhh," Jim wailed, glaring to the elk. "The hell do you think you're doing-"

"-Seventy...", he gasped. "... Sir. Or do you want a hundred?"

"NO, the hell're you doing in here?" He drew a breath through clenched teeth, his question coming just before he laid eyes on the avian. "H-holy... You piss-ants start a fight club?"

Seth lay torn between pity for the condor, and protecting his territory. The latter won; he helped the bird to his feet, but practically pushed his limp form for the door. "You need the infirmary, not here. We just now got communications back."

It was all the elk had to hear, to bolt away from his push-ups, and approach the wall of lines. "Thank God, we need a real hospital. Where's the phone to dial out, or is it a speaker-thing setup?"

Seth dropped the condor, to grab the elk and try pulling him away. The bird was unprepared; so to a graceful fall, beakfirst, he dropped on Jim's other grey knee.

The raccoon was beside himself. "GET OUT of here, it doesn't 'transfer' like that!" Throughout, he cursed to himself, not strong enough to drag that elk away, as he just wound up pulling himself in. "It's like an operator's switchboard, you'd never understand-"

"Oh geez," The elk groused, with Captain Jim behind in wails in agony. "My granddad showed me somethin' like this, way back when I rocked a sippy-cup. Lessee... This looks like the grounding plug", he stated, yanking out the broadband. Seth batted his arms, absolutely not stopping them. "... And if this is a line to the Colonel," he continued, a flash of blue arcing as he yanked a black plug. The lights dimmed; the condor gasped; Jim rolled around the dusty floor.

First Lieutenant kicked at the elk, too frantic to care how he hit only thick boots. "Jesus, get the FUCK out-"

"I SEE IT!" The private yelled, fingers clasping a thick brown cord. The last Lain had touched; one of many, that Seth hadn't watched as clear as Jim hoped. Else, he might not have missed the subtle change, next to that factory-stamped '150 V'... A fresh, purposed slit in the silicone shell.

Anyone outside would have seen a strobing white glow; while two screams from within, proved how even non-lethal amperage can kick, hands-on.

****************************************************************************************************************************

Charisma alone took Jerr many places.

But when paired with the promise of action, it was magnified.

How else could he find himself like this... Face-up, laid prone on the cold steel bench, lower-lip wrapped below that cockhead. While the bear above - knees bent to both ease and respond to Jerr's work - shuddered, and gasped his thundering breaths.

Josh, and the others, circled them... Most were amazed, dumbstruck by how that short ball of orange could work. Better than expected of a male... Far better than the fortune of those who wrote home to feminine mates. Roland's knees quaked; even with the muscle genes awarded him, they flirted with buckling, beneath a shapely stomach. His large brown nipples, near as hard as his tool, though dancing on the chub that hid his pecs. Every end of his body was in motion... And he, weak at the mercy of Jerr's maw, completely unable to still them.

The monkey was quick and made every moment count, sucking down the ursine's thick tall-boy while tongue and lips teased. But he'd carefully paced it, slow and sultry; so when he'd tempted the bear, and proved just what he could offer, he'd have an audience unclothed.

So they were, standing by with envy. As before, most were just taken by surprise; but Josh, and a seven-foot buffalo on the bench's far side, couldn't help themselves; a grey hand clasped the billy's meat, twisting gently as it slid down his length, and back up with tugging squeezes. The bison, breathing hard with strokes of his lengthy club; straight, backhand cranks of its mass, his sack the lowest-hung in the room, dangling in coarse brown curls. Both were glued to the show, as Jerr kicked his weight against the bench, propelling his jaw down Roland's meat. The brown hulk was every bit a bear, and endowed like one... a pair of fat veins, like twin brothers on each side of a ten-inch beer can, throbbing on Jerr's gums while the monkey slid soft lips down their protrusion. His maw pushed tight as a vacuum, and, as much as Roland dwarfed his fellow soldiers, there was no issue, no hitch for the monkey to work that monster. Every one of them could tell; just the reason why even the ten that weren't 'self-helping' were stiff as the bench Jerr's naked form straddled.

Josh, and his shamelessness, worked well in this position. His jaw dropped near as low as Roland's, jerking fast but precise, dick forward as he leaned slightly back. Watching his friend's huge manhood take a five-star favor... While his own stood its firmest in months. "Daaammnnnn..." He muttered, his neck craned for a better view, as Roland's gut was jostled by that blue cap. The goat leaned forward, lowered his chin, and dropped a wad of spit past his abs; it crashed to his six-point-five, and his hand skimmed over it, stretching the foam to a long, slick coat. "Th' guy's fuckin' amazing, man. Ohh." The punctuating groan for his knuckles reaching the tip, giving one instinctual thrust. "Makes it look so-damn-nat'chral."

Roland had seen the goat's 'lube', as it fell. Now distracted, shuddering deeper for disgust; but Jerr felt the change, and in his craving genius, set to rapid-fire dives to the root. So with the bear in shakes, raw sensation surged through his tool, launching him from nausea to a moaning full-body quake. "YEEAHhh," they could hear Josh shout, muscles taut as he jerked it even harder...

... And saw in his peripheral, the privates crowding closer around. Before, it was he and the buffalo; now a prairie dog joined in, huffing as he cranked it like mad, almost punishing five inches with harsh speed. Then a short wolf, leaning into his hand, and an armadillo, palm-open as he rubbed his thin prick. By the time Jerr rolled his form, knees-down and snatching bear haunches in each hand, bowing into every deep plunge - His ass in the air, his cap's fabric prodding grizzly stomach - it was a twelve-strong circle jerk around them. Most stared to his head, as it tipped each way like a metronome in slight-but-strong arcs... some instead chose to view that tiny hole. Loose for practice, but tight for anatomy; the closest to perfect they might ever see, as their groaning echoes told.

And even faced into Roland's thick fur, he knew. His most cherished sound, the wet smack of a hand cruising down a dick, was all around him. Beyond the ecstasy of throating that bear - taking it so deep, he might even awaken a long-past gag reflex - he still grinned around that giant pole he served; the center of attention, for a manly baker's dozen. Men in their prime; men with strong bodies, and stronger urges; men undoubtedly pent like priests, but far-and-away more alluring. The evidence filled his ears... And as he rolled his tongue down the bear's lower length, moans muffled as he praised every fat inch, he knew to give them what they want.

Jerr's mouth drew back; Roland doubled-over, just quaking for the feel as that monkey slid up his third leg. The orange head came free, while Jerr's rear arched high; straight, hard monkeyhood astride his swinging balls, sweaty hole exposed as he taunted the group. That impish grin, half each of ego and excitement, faced to each viewer in turn. The tail whipped, the sack swung, and his words were velvety tease. "Bet'chou all the chips in Vegas, you've never been sucked like that. And you're all dyin' to be... I fuckin' hear it in your breath." He pitched forward, gliding down to Roland's base on the ease of bear's pre. Deeper dives than before, as he throated that weapon like it gave endless life. Twenty toes curled; ten huge brown ones, as the monkey's chops torpedoed over Roland's tool, and ten smaller digits, at what seemed to be random; but was in-time with each surge of taste on Jerr's tongue. Roland's dick was massive, smooth, and held all the dinge of a day's march, from half-dried sweat to the coat of grime that always found a way into his pants. The bear himself may not enjoy the thought, of how his tool collected such earthiness... But Jerr was practically quivering, as every trace of hard-earned filth was brought from the meat to his maw.

Roland was brought to his edge, a second time, so close to release as Jerr pulled himself away. By now, the monkey's smile was strained, eyes half-open as they trained on the closest other private. The bison's dick pulsed its largest, so near to Jerr's face that his nose felt the breeze of its jacking; the soldier's palm frenetic as he took in that monkey's every feature; small, exposed and with a look of pure hunger. The purity in Jerr's coveting called out by Roland's moan, huge bear cock on the brink. It was clear as day to all; this monkey lived for the chance to do everything they'd want from him.

The orange tail's owner still in gasps, beneath the backwards cap, he ogled that brick wall of bison. "Keep it in, man. You're gonna watch me drain every drop from his heavy sack..." Monkey's eyes sank down the tall chocolate body; across model-worthy pecs, a bulging, heaving washboard; stopping at the prize, its length mere inches before his face, its head expanding as the giant hand skimmed it. "... And you're next." The bison's jade eyes shone with the growing similarity of their lust. So it rose, while Jerr sized up the circle; each private centered on him and that hiked-up rear, tail flicking like a twig in a gale. He gave it a nod, while the hardest dick in the room - four inches of pink, woof-owned maleness - throbbed beneath it. "It's a tad empty, back here... Only thing to fix that, is a good, hard brofuck, some thick meat up this hole. Hell... Make it two at once." He hunkered down, ready to pounce on Roland for the final round. "... You should know the heaven, of slidin' on another dude's dick while you stretch some prime ass... And I'll gladly clench tight as you want. Don't worry..." He faced back to buffalo, near-moaning just to watch the jaw-breaker stand in wait for him. "...You all get a turn."

All thirteen caught what wasn't far from a roar as Jerr's digits clamped down on Roland's haunches to plant his lips even harder on that weapon. The pause Jerr took to tempt the others hardly mattered; his work was so model and his words so hot and honest, Roland stayed fast on the brink, right up to the moment Jerr's throat retook him with all the power he could guide through that jaw. No more taunting speech, or teasing pause; it was a race to see how fast and grand the monkey could finish him, long pink tongue swinging wild behind his lips and on every side of the bear's sausage, the primate sucking so hard it put any pump to shame. A streak of pre-borne dampness on the twin corners of his maw, Roland heaving and wobbling with every groaning bellow. And while it got serious, another blob from Josh, more bubbled lube falling to slick down his rod. Grey goatee wisped, as he spoke up. "I call dibs, man, If you take it under that tail half as good as y'rr givin'." His horns seemed in fervent favor of the motion as he swung sights across the troop. "You heard 'im. Who's got the balls to pair up?"

An answer would have to wait; Roland couldn't hope to last through the practice. While the chimp's throat was pushed, punished by an overly thick head, suction only strengthened; no space within, to keep the oral slut from feeling that power, that first rise of a climax surging through the gigantic beast. As he bobbed like a lure - toes and tail beyond his control, lung-height wails with how he pleaded for its load - he took a single hard thrust; a crash of bear's belly on his scalp, and the meat's tip scraping his gullet. Roland's shout was intense, ear-splitting, removing any chance to hear all else; the whoosh of Jerr's prehensile limb, atop his dilated passage; the steps of many feet drawing ever closer and the goat's in position to join... Or the thud of a plastic bottle, on the green tile beneath. Its curved mass dropped through a vent, sliding up to nudge Josh's heel. Perhaps it wasn't meant to make contact; which would explain the lock of hair, bolting away from that vent, as the goat peered down to assess. He smirked, as the shape was unmistakable; but fast-rejoined the show, not to miss a single hot moment.

Never had that bear's body shook any harder. The first jet was so quick and strong Jerr's stomach felt the shock as it raced down deep alone under the bear's raging scream that had half their audience wincing... and Jerr alone knew why. It must've been weeks, or more, to get a man this pent-up, and the load was insane; felt like a solid quart, a pressure-wash of cream down his throat. But the second was the real money, and Roland's hips rolled like pistons in one great motion to force-feed a load bigger than Jerr had ever taken.

And it was so welcome. He needed it, begged for it in the hum of his groan on bear's dick, but never thought he'd be so richly rewarded. Rich, like the taste on his tongue, speeding past while he toiled to swallow; brow flexing like mad, against the soft flesh below bear's navel, both their cores shivering in ecstasy. Roland was the one amid the strongest peak of his life... But if anything, Jerr was the one in bliss, pumped full of his most-beloved meal, what had to be gallons of hot bear seeds still coming; and nothing more than his own work had earned it. Two hairless ears took the sound of many hard-cranked rods, between the roaring yawps of his subject. He'd have a go at them all and earn every trace of what lay within those plump sacks... Each man with his own tool, his own taste; all so different, yet commonly delectable.

His four uncut inches now pained him; straight on his undercarriage, so hard and unrequited, it may have just exploded on its own. There was more and more chance, while he took shots six and seven from the burly ursid. His gut swelled, like results of Thanksgiving, while twelve soldiers waited to dominate him. The one reason his dick stood un-served, was his own two hands, clasped on either buttock, pulling gently afield to tease them with the family blessing... A perfect circle, just as choice and inviting as the supple cheeks surrounding it. Roland's shots gave strong to the tenth, and barely faltered, still leaking so fast down that monkey's throat it was no less a steady pour. Jerr's brow kept a peak between his eyes, now gulping his reward with some degree of ease. So gratified, a full-body shudder bounced his dick between each thigh, while the bear's quaking steadied. His cap lifted, and the grin was back, eyes fixed above to watch that manful tank draw calm; even chuckling, with lips still planted in dives, for the time Roland took to catch his breath. Sweat-draped nipples tremored, with the bear's groaning sigh, all the more for Jerr to relish the Valhalla he'd brought that monster's owner.

Another twenty seconds, just nursing it for pleasure, greedy slurps down to the root... And slowly, with suction at its hardest, he pulled away, head swiveling to draw one last barrage of moans from the grizzly. The ending smack rose over echoes of hands, and their self-directed friction. But one had gone louder, in its clammy vibes... The grey goat's rod, slicked with spit, and pre, and what came from that tiny bottle which sat in Josh's left hand as Jerr craned his neck to view his rearward stance. While the monkey's palms slipped from his cheeks, one steadied him beneath. The other clutched Roland's cock, slapping it on his face and broad smile; its sheer weight softened just so to swing freely as it stamped his hide in wide marks. The billy groaned, impatient like the others, as Jerr watched in amusement. Selfish chimp-chuckles for the heavy meat striking him and a gaping grey jaw, telling just how hot he'd made his audience.

Jerr's gaze skewed down from Josh's own - narrowed, a blaze of ardor behind them - and traced the lean muscle behind his silvery peach fuzz. It rolled from neck to hips, the lowest still leaning to his hand as he jerked those rigid inches. Monkey's tongue poked out, just enough to show them all it was glazed like his chops; bathed in wet and white. While he spoke, smooth and low-pitched, his eyes stuck fast to that half-a-foot of pleasure.

"Damn, goat man's got it goin' on," he quipped, joy in every word. "Beat that dick, man, think about how it'll feel crammed into me."

"Unnghhyehh," came the drawl, nuts trembling in their cream-hue prison. "I... Never thought I'd see a guy like this. Can't fuckin' believe... how I want you. Want that tiny li'l knot t' take this tubesteak."

Jerr just toyed with Roland's giant, suckling the head to bring on spasmic yelps, the bear's show of sensitivity. "Heheh, nothin' I don't know. Guys in your position want fun, options are slim. First one you see, you hop the bandwagon... Whether or not they pack this." The last sentence was said while his 'steadying' hand leapt to glide between cock and stomach, pushing down, wiggling by the base to shake his rigid mass. It still ached with need, coaxing pursed lips and a wincing "Ooooo" to complement. His hand left to again give balance; the billy's gasp fluttered while he just continued wearing them down. "But that makes it even better. Got somethin' to grab 'n' hold onto..." His ass protruded, far as it could ever be exposed. "...While you make this your bitch."

"Gawd-DAMN..." Josh bellowed, inching forward to straddle the cold bench. Knees bent to line himself up; a slick, hard shaft, right to that monkey's hole, quivering with its own implied hunger. In every way, Jerr lived for men; no surprise, even his body would chase them.

The jizz-drenched smile guided sighs, warm and relaxed; he could only dwell on Josh, so soon to be shoved into him... and one other point. "... Fuck, man... With that missile, I don't even need a second plug..."

Josh bent further, launching forward to snatch the primate's shoulders. Moans from the both of them, pure anticipation...

"-Well you're getting one anyway."

... And all four eyes looked behind, to the source of such a devious tone. He'd been less than visible, standing back in the circle, but with a hand on Josh's haunch, the seven-foot dolphin made his move; even stealing the focus of the ten non-active. They'd seen him clothed, taller than all but Roland, his black eyes eternally narrow. They'd seen him shirtless, tattooed to suit his brooding, from his shoulder's purple rose to the Mayan canvas of his pecs and abs, Quetzalcoatl bulging in his brawn. But intimidation kept them at bay; never before having guts to look on him, in this dingy room. Josh seized up, in the strength of his grip; but neither he, nor Jerr, gave time to hide their stare.

Not as big as Roland's, barely more than the buffalo, below an inked blue arrow from his navel; but smooth as silk, seven tapered inches, the tip barely more than its own thick pisshole. If he was any indication, dolphin men came long and thin... And pliable, from how his other mitt shook the tool, swinging it next to Josh's abs. He was such a presence, sleek but huge and daunting, each step seemed to thunder, right up to the wide-eyed monkey.

"You want a deep double. Well..." He gazed down, to the cock he held up, "Goat brings the girth, but I'll go deeper. Boy's got spirit..." He smirked to the billy, more of a put-down than it translated, "... But you want experience."

Jerr's prick, ignored, throbbed in agony. "Close enough, sea stud..." Even confidence couldn't stave the aching tremble. "... It's both I want."

Josh was already positioned, so close to that hole he could feel its radiating heat. But he stayed bent, to line himself up; the dolphin only kneeled, the perfect height on his knees. Josh still straddled the bench by Jerr's tail; and seeing the problem, he began to lift one leg, meaning to rest it on the bench and better-accomodate the second dom.

The cetacean stopped him, grabbing at femur-height. Not quite catching on, Josh lowered his limb, about to explain his courtesy. The beefcake beat him to it.

"You'll be comfy there. Besides, it's ages since I did this..." He leaned up, muscled hip rubbing on Josh's, while the goat could only stare at his dick in that aquatic hand. Jerr watched as well, until it disappeared behind his cheek; and became a point of pressure; topped off by the dolphin's bass. "... Hit that shit from the side."

The monkey's balance-hand clenched, a half-fist on the bench; his neck bent with head's upward crane, and an all-out howl escaped him; the dolphin's tool was shaped perfect to poke the very middle of his sphincter. Jerr's other palm, once busied with Roland, slammed to the bench; the bear too absorbed in the show to lament it; satisfied, his huffs dying down. It was a cakewalk for the buffalo to nudge him away, and move into the space for prime oral... once Jerr could collect himself. Meantime, with his orange-ringed chops in an "Oooo" for what taunted his rear, the bison circled them, chocolate glans teasing the ring of collagen. And in that moment - with the monkey's hole prodded, Josh poised to edge forward and double the push on Jerr's mancave, frotting against his beefy co-pilot - instinct came through, guiding Jerr's tongue to whip over the head and reward the bison's patience.

From there, it could only grow hotter. Jerr's every muscle froze tight as the pair of doms broke in, testing just how wide he could go, his prick now in constant contractions while that agile tongue tickled brown meat, teasing from slit to base. All over him, fur wisped in the currents of air brought from bare soldiers' cranking. A prairie dog's moan trilled high... control had failed the rodent, and he quickly stepped up by Jerr's shoulder. Chin low, he shot three hard in succession, Jerr rejoicing with a laugh of pure thrill, taking his inaugural pearl necklace. The billy shoved deep, his southern twang strong in the echoes... He was rough on that chimp, but the dolphin even rougher, with that astounding weapon. The curve in its length wrapped tight on that pucker, next to Josh... barely less than pain, and only thanks to that bottle. The tattooed male brought even more than was obvious; being longer than the goat, he slid on the dickhead within, which only drove Josh wild, quickening his pace. Jerr's maw reached the bison's root, running lips through the dense brown curls... But the sack was too tempting, as he lustingly noticed. Roland's balls had been plump, inviting... but maybe too plump, at least to fit anything by his lips. The buffalo's were lower, but manageable... still large, but the perfect size to serve. While his head sank, the cap's bill hit that chocolate cock, lifting from his scalp. By the time it lost hold, and fell to the tile by the bench's leg, half the sack was hidden, its sphere behind Jerr's teeth and his gums gently suckling the mass.

Prairie dog had sank to the floor, hands down to anchor as afterglow brought home the day's exhaustion, showing even soldiers had their limit... but the rest were long away from breaking. Jerr flirted with a wail on the ball he affectionately gummed, and few could blame him. Two rods at his face: one caressed in-hand, the other's sack taken by oral finesse. Nine stood tall to relish the show, their edging self-pleasure only growing how much they'd shoot... either down his gullet or up his bantam pucker. No one else could more have earned a spot as the center of attention. The thought alone had his cock in tormented pangs, as if he hadn't released in months, instead of the mere hours in reality. Contractions slowly melded, until they were as one; his dick never resting, glued by pre and spasms to the fur of his treasure trail. Neither Josh nor the dolphin showed tenderness, ramming his tiny cave like jackhammers, lube trailing paths down his taint. Simply overcome, his only conscious act was the bow of his hips against their own; just to make their thrusts that much harder. Josh's chinfuzz quivered in his bellowing "Ohhhh"... The inked seabeef beside him, grunting through the grit of his teeth... Even now, Jerr could feel the difference in how aggressive that cetacean plunged in; less basal pleasure than tyranny for its own manly sake. Josh and the others were just getting rocks off... This ocean stud owned him.

As that primate's lips let go, the bison twitched, with his sack wide-swung in lengthy weight. Jerr's maw would be right back to it no later than it took to cast his dual tops the eye. In his face, sopped with sweat and pre, shone the slit-eye grin of a manwhore years in the making. "Fuck... Yeah... Man... I want your fuckin' cream... Every goddamn drop..." That look, swung around to them all. "... N'that goes for... Unnghh... ALL you studs. Ohh-hhhdamn, effin' guys, man..." He could feel it all through that trembling sack; the telltale pins 'n' needles. No chance of stopping it; and just enough time for one last phrase. "... Fuckin' HOT HARD DICKS, YEEEAHHHHH!!!"

A full-on explosion; splattering the bench so hard, it rang like a tuning fork. Spurts of white splashed out, split away from the sheer force of impact, beading on his forelegs and down the bison's tan calves. His prick was a machine gun, draining him so quick he could feel the flow within... Or maybe just the dual, larger cocks up his rear. No reason to care which; it was heaven, and his whining burst was constant to its end, the moment he returned to sucking brown cock. Its owner responded, by gripping his own low sack, the seven-inch tool disappearing as he helped to cram it down Jerr's throat. The monkey's loads endured a stunning half-minute, his final cries muffled in service of the bison, with orange-root prick dribbling ropes. His hole seized, as it wrapped the cocks within; sensitive enough to catch how their cadence leapt up. Both goat and dolphin were hot on his heels, and their gruff audio just further affirmed it.

Spit, sweat and mancream lay slick and warm on an orange jaw that stormed the air with gasps, between each plunge on the dark brown pipe. His sound was nothing compared with Josh, the twang loud enough to prove himself a screamer. Combined, it was thirteen inches pounding Jerr raw, harder with each passing second... and the buffalo's hips began to knock his form on the monkey's nose. Jerr's cackle barely stayed within; a bellow from above, high shouts and lower grunts from behind. This man-addict had pitched himself a triple-header; something he well-knew, as he drew off the bison's rod with a slurp, to nibble that sack.

Josh barely led, slim abs rolling while his root all-but-punched the monkey's hole. Goatee was out and level with his chin's rise, and the force he put in brought Jerr to flinch, and his shallow gut to tighten. The billy gave more than expected; strong thrusts begat a battery of shots, filling that cavity; his thick loads, firing straight by the longer dolphin's tip, spurring him to an even quicker follow. Josh's peak was brutal, and the orange slut had just the time to adjust before his other dom pushed in, slower but harder.

Jerr's mind did its own speechless double-take... that limber weapon seemed almost to vibrate, as the tattooed stud shot off. Josh himself was midway, no further... and the monkey'd never known a better ten seconds, as told in the buckle of his balance arm's elbow. Two young studs, not a flaw between their differing traits, crashing on his cheeks as they filled him. He felt more than their tools, or the swing of their hips; pressure, on the depths of his core, a tingle in his own spent cock for the same. And the pair's rhythm staggered. The shots of each crowded the other's meat, and drove their peak to rise, louder and firmer in turn. Like an involuntary contest, for which none was more winning than the slut who took it all. The only downside was how his full-body shudders would stray the gentle means of his throat on bison's nuts. He had to slow himself, steady neck and jaw to nurse its contents... also a chore for the chocolate male's approach, a hair behind the others. But the challenge was a brief one... His fingers clutching brown hips, he heard the telltale rasp of groans, just when the loads poured forth. Not so much a shot, as a thick stream, straight down to his stomach like milk. The pair of doms settled, and gave their last in shallower nudges... a flow of white from two vocal men, seeping out his hole, tickling his taint while the bison's did the same down his chest. His eyes could halfway open, but only looked 'past' the chocolate fur in front, or the dribbling meat at his cheek... just deep in thought, enraptured by the rawness of his hole, the smell of man and crotch, the rivers of jizz that traced him on both ends. Every nerve in his body, crying out in pleasure... Those eyes slowly shut, and he took the bison's tool with more affection than ever. Simultane, his sphincter tensed, while goat and dolphin raked on each other pulling out.

There was teeming discipline in this lot of soldiers-- at least to keep control -- in all but one case. Josh's knees moved loose, barely helping him stand while a drop hung on his still-rigid pole. The dolphin came off as more collected with a simple sigh, his member half-straight as he cleaned it. The privates who were eldest by a few years, honed in on this sight a bit more; knowing what it meant for the inked male's staying power. The rest fixed to Josh, who calmly smirked as he ran a lazy hand up his cock, collecting the coat of cream. For the shortest moment, he considered a taste... But knowing where it had been, settled for strolling up, pomade-ing Jerr's cheek with a chuckle.

The monkey knew on instant what it was... and stifled a laugh of his own, with bison's meat spent, his tail flicking while he playfully pulled against the rod. Not a moment longer than it took to drain that male, and his head whipped back to flash the billy gratitude. "Damn, s'all I can say. You goats fuck like you ram, if you get me." A few gasps, while he stared back to the dolphin, who didn't share the billy's reticence; gulping down the musky swirl of his and Josh's loads. On this sight, Jerr's words held a warm quiver. "If style's half the show, you stole it. Vive la difference. Add in the view..." His blue orbs scanned those tats, to every naked corner. "And I'm thinkin' round two."

The dolphin's lips curled; not surprised, but still charmed.

Josh's hand, upon its leaving Jerr's cheek, had shot back to his meat... It never softened, and in his palm, wouldn't have a chance to. "Man, I... I can't ev'n say what that was... Might be straight, but ain't never had a bitch buck f'rr me like that."

Jerr's smirk far-outdid his own, in scale and deviance. "Get used to it. They don't live like that, man, don't treasure the gift." He took his time, to appreciate the billy and what all was revealed. The muscle on that svelte frame, a drenched and fragrant coat of silvery fur... And the epiphany, that came of its own accord. "Dude, you're more than alright... S'a good mind in that hard-plated head. I think we have some times ahead of us."

It was then, he caught onto the impatience around him... His face lazily each way, to relish and compare the contenders. One last peer on Josh's likewise horniness. "Not to keep 'em waiting, eh?"

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Helmets, white and hard. Rifles, black and harder. A mirror image in the twin lemurs, with broad trunks of brawn beneath the "MP" on their jackets. Their stern looks affixed straight ahead, not unlike the sentinels of Buckingham, while a body one-third their height paced left and right before them. Built even heavier, countenance more stern, but with a stroke of fear sketched on the marmoset's scowl.

"Damn-sure don't have to explain any more, it's pretty clear-cut what to do. One single delinquent, who's got no ties or 'pull' here to shelter him. You take care of it however you'd like... Serves the shithead right, for nearly killing me." He looked to one of them, still frozen and hopefully listening. "Rough 'im up a bit, like you did those pricks at the brawl last Easter. I wanna see blood when they carry him off. I wanna see proof he'll think twice about returning, if he still can think beyond then-"

So focused was he on the pair, he missed the tiptoe beside them... And saw too late the flask whizzing through the air from ten feet out. Its glass shape was perfectly tossed, to land equidistant by all six feet. The first crack in that brawny pair's resolve, to widen eyes and swing around by whence it came.

They had only the time to recognize him, and Marmoset the time to sputter "WHAT the fuuuhhhh-"; then the green gas took effect. Three bodies went limp, falling gently unconscious to the sun-warmed dirt. Lemurs draped over one another, Lieutenant lay supine... While the figure mocked them from safe distance, jowls flapping with his every laugh. He strolled away with pride; the seal's work was criminally easy.

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To persist, part four...