Soaktober 2023 Finale

Day 29: Breathplay

Today, Fox in Socks is getting a bath. But not just any bath. The vixen has already pissed her bed last night, and received a golden shower as punishment. The stupid animal gets so excited when her master tells her the good news: she actually thinks she deserves to be clean! But her heart and tail quickly sink when he pulls out the enormous jug of pure fox urine. Fox tries to slink away, but he shuts the door and traps her in the room. She can only watch in horror as her mean master pours the foul liquid into a plastic tub.

“In," he orders. Fox in Socks shakes her head as she backs into the corner. Her master grabs her and forces her into the tub anyway. She tries to brace herself with her feat, but her purple socks slip on the rim and she's pushed in with a splash. The fox starts to cry as the liquid soaks her purple socks. It seeps higher and higher up her legs. Her master warmed it up by soaking the jug in hot water, but that only makes the revolting smell of stale animal urine even worse. A gallon isn't that much in a big tub, but there's still over half an inch of yellow liquid in there. Splish, splash. The fox tries to escape, but her master threatens to wait a few hours, then tie her up and bathe her in cold fox urine instead. Her lower lip quivers as she accepts her fate.

That's when her master brings out the second jug of fox urine. The vixen whines pitiably, but receives no sympathy. He heartlessly starts pouring the warm, golden liquid all over her back. Glug, glug, glug! Dirty, dirty fox. Her fur is getting all wet. Piss is pouring down her back and flanks and raining down into the tub. The level of liquid slowly gets higher. He starts pouring it on her head. Fox flinches and squirms. She jumps out of the tub and slips off the table. Bad, bad, fox! She almost knocked the tub over, think what a mess that would make! And she's dripping all over the floor, too!

Five minutes later, Fox in Socks is tied up nice and tight to prevent any more misbehavior. Her front paws are bound together, and her back paws can only get a few inches apart. Her master holds a urine-soaked rag over her face, making the vixen's eyes water, and pours even more onto her, keeping the saturated cloth pressed against her mouth and nose until she coughs and chokes. He seizes his fox around the neck, and squeezes his fox around the neck, forcibly holding her breath for a few seconds. He lets go when the panic sets in, but before the fox can recover she gets another pint of pee poured on her face.

Soon the second jug is empty. The liquid in the tub is over an inch deep. Master grabs the fox by her collar and forces her head down into it. She coughs and blows bubbles, but she can still breathe. It's not deep enough yet. But her master prepared for that: that's why he has five more jugs.

The helpless fox stands shivering and sopping in a deepening lake of urine. Three inches or more of foul, deep yellow piss is filling the tub now. It's a noxious, foamy, scummy liquid. The fumes alone are enough to make the poor vixen choke and gag. But Fox's master grabs her by the collar again, and forces her head down, down, down! The fox strains against his might with all of hers, but her muscles give way and her muzzle is plunged beneath the stinking surface.

Poor Fox struggles and thrashes. She kicks and doesn't scream, because she's having to hold her breath. Her attempts to free herself get more panicked. Doubt creeps into the vixen's mind about whether her master will really let her up for air. She starts out confident he'd never really drown his pet, but her lungs start to burn, and Fox really isn't sure anymore. She starts to whine and plead. Bubbles are escaping from her mouth and nose. Her thrashing gets weaker. She's running out of air. The poor vixen chokes and spasms, losing all the air in her lungs.

Splash! Her master pulls her up. The soggy fox hangs limply by her scruff, hacking and choking. There's acrid urine up her nose, making her eyes and nostrils burn. The vixen gags at the awful taste, but can't help feeling aroused by the terrifying and disgusting experience. Her master gropes behind her rump with his other hand. The fox winces as he forces a finger into her, then before she can catch her breath she's shoved violently down into the lake of piss again. He holds her down until she's about to choke again. He gives her air just long enough for the squirming fox to plead for mercy, then down she goes again, muzzle held under the yellow lake. Her watery torture doesn't end until the vixen's knees buckle and she involuntarily adds one more bladder full of warm liquid to her pee bath. She rolls on her back, soaking in the disgusting liquid in the afterglow of her accident. Her master puts the sopping rag over her nose again, and waterboards her with a long shower of his own.

Eventually the bath gets cold, though, so master takes his sopping wet fox out of the tub and brings her into the shower for a real bath. She's earned it now.

Day 30: Cuddling

Today was a chilly autumnal day at the animal sanctuary where Milo and Madeline now lived, and the two minks didn't feel like frolicing in their outdoor cage. Instead, the mustelids were snuggled up in their nice, warm indoor den box, warm and cozy in a nest of blankets. Madeline woke up, stretched, yawned, then curled right back up next to her mate, enjoying the feeling of his soft fur, heartbeat, and body heat. She woke up again with Milo nibbling her ear in his sleep. She nibbled his ear back, and soon she drifted off asleep again. She felt an urge to pee, but it wasn't really urgent yet.

“Madeline?"

“Mmmff?" Madeline groaned and pawed at her face. The male mink was squirming under her. “What is it?"

“I have to pee."

“Can't you wait?" she yawned. “Don't leave me here by myself, it's so chilly..."

Milo had to go pretty badly by now, but the male mink was lulled by her words. “I guess so," he said.

He woke up again a while later to a very insistent twinge from his bladder. It felt so uncomfortable. But it was so nice and warm here in their soft, clean, dry bedding, and Madeline was lying on top of him, breathing contentedly. He didn't want to disturb his mate and ruin this wonderful cuddle. He curled his toes in discomfort, but suppressed the urge. He pressed his nose into her chest fur and breathed deeply. She smelled so nice. He just wanted to nap here all day.

Madeline wanted to nap here all day too. Her bladder was trying really hard to make her get up, though. She woke up with her hind legs aching from clenching them together in their sleep. “Owww," she whimpered, putting a paw to her bladder. She had to pee so badly! She didn't want to get up, but she had to. She squirmed and wriggled, and started to rise, but Milo's paw wrapped around her chest and tugged her back down into the cozy blanket nest. He was so peaceful. She wondered if he'd gone outside and relieved himself while she slept, but he didn't feel cold at all. So nice and warm. He must not have had to go that badly after all, and they'd both peed in the middle of the night and then had a drink of water, so maybe she didn't have to go as badly as it felt like either. It didn't occur to the silly mink how long it had been since Milo had complained of the need to go.

Soon neither mink could sleep. They couldn't stop squirming and fidgeting in growing desperation, both struggling and holding one another down as they writhed in their nest. They both had to pee so badly, but neither mink wanted to be the one to get up and ruin this for them both. Madeline pretended to be asleep and hoped her squirming wouldn't wake her made, but little did she know that he was faking it as well.

Then she felt it. There was a warm, wet feeling all over her lower half, and it was spreading fast. It shocked her out of her dazed, sleepy state. “Hey! Milo!" she bit his ear. “Are you pee-?" Then Madeline blushed under her fur as she felt liquid flowing out between her legs, and understood that she was the source of the wetness. But then a very similar feeling spread across her chest and throat. She blinked sleepily, and found that it wasn't his ear she'd bitten, it was his tail. They were curled up back to front on their sides, and he was... he was peeing... he was peeing on her, and she was peeing herself. “Ing the bed? Oh no!"

“What?" Milo stirred sleepily. A burst of liquid started to soak Madeline's belly. “I'm not peeing, you're peein... uh oh. Oh god, it's all wet!" he stood up. Warm fluid splashed and dribbled down on her head.

“Yuck! Hold still, you're making it worse!"

“I'm sorry, I can't stop!"

“Then lie back down, it's getting on my face!" The two mink struggled, tangled in the blanket, until they gave up and lay gasping and whimpering in a growing puddle. Finally they regained control of their bladders, but Madeline was still completely desperate.

“Sorry," Milo said shamefully. “Maybe we should go potty now."

Madeline stretched sleepily and rolled over, keeping her mate pinned down. “It's too late now. Our bedding's already wet, and I don't want to go out in the cold while I'm all wet. Her hind legs quivered. Her bladder didn't like its emptying being interrupted at all. She hugged her mate, breathed a contented sigh of relief, and relaxed, feeling the pleasant, wet warmth spread all over her lower body again. Milo whimpered and released his bladder too, shooting a strong stream of urine up the pair's bellies and getting them all wet. He humped and rubbed against her while he peed. Madeline licked his nose affectionately.

The mink couple stayed right where they were, curled up together in their warm, soggy bedding. It reeked of animal urine now, but they didn't mind. They'd need a thorough bath later, but they didn't mind right now. They were too comfy to get up.

Day 31: Halloween Special

Today is Halloween, or rather, Hallow-Wee-n, the end of Soaktober. It's been a long, fun, and very soggy month. To mark the end of this momentous month of micturition, it's time to revisit one set of characters from each of the first four weeks, and see how they've chosen to celebrate this holiday!

Week 1:

The goat from Day 3 has gotten loose in the stable, and is going trick-or-treating in all the horse stalls. They don't have any candy to offer her, but that's not what she's after: instead, she's here for a different kind of treat.

“What are you supposed to be?" the first stallion asked, looking down skeptically at the intruder.

“I'm going as a melty Stay Puft marshmallow man!" the goat said with a girlish grin.

“You're not wearing any costume."

“I've got the bandana... now I'm hoping you boys can help me with the rest of my costume."

“That's really lame and low effort," complained the stallion.

“And your glow in the dark unicorn horn isn't?"

The stallion knew he had no counterargument, so he relented and let the goat walk into his stall and sidle her way under him. She headbutted his sheath, rubbing her horns up and down his length until his whole cock was sticking out.

“Oh, man, that feels good," said the stallion.

“Mmm..." the goat smacked her lips as she began to suck and slurp at the horse's dirty, smegma-ridden schlong. “It's no caramel apple, but I'm not a picky girl."

She slurped and shlicked greedily at his enormous flaring horsecock, barely intimidated by his size and girth, until her cheeks bulged out with a tsunami of hot, salty cum gushing into her mouth. The goat's eyes widened in shock as it came out her nose. She pulled back, coughing and spluttering, and bowed her head as heaping, gooey spurts of stallion semen splattered her forehead.

“Thank you!" she giggled gurglily as she tottered away to the next stall, her stubby tail wagging.

The second stallion mounted her, stretching her tight gussy to the limit. His pullout game was weak, but his orgasm was so enduring that despite his lateness he still spouted spunk all over her back. The third she simple rubbed against until her flank was glazed in yet a third load. The fourth railed her backside, and pumped her rump full of his sticky male juices. But the goat, still unsatisfied, waddled to the fifth stall with her holes sore and leaking glistening white puddles of “ectoplasm" onto the barn floor. And so her night of trick or treating went on and on, until she looked a lot like her costume after all. The goat was a ghastly and grotesque sight, lumbering from stall to stall with her fur completely coated in congealing cum, sticky, icky, and dripping all over.

“Hey, didn't you come by here already?" asked a stallion.

“What if I did? I don't see a “please take ONE" sign anywhere, do you?" gurgled the goat. She waddled behind him and began to lick his nasty scrotum.

After three rounds of being slimed, the stallions had had enough, even if the goat hadn't. They began to release their bladders onto and into the slutty animal instead, completely ruining her costume and drenching her from head to toe.

“Dude, I already pissed on you!" snorted a tired stallion. “Fuck off and go bother someone else!"

That was how the goat found her way to the pigsty.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?" grunted a boar.

“A melty stay puft marshmallow man, but those naughty horses over in the stable ruined my costume. Do you think you can help me fix it?"

“Oh, sure." The boar grinned lecherously as he sniffed the air. “Me and the boys would be glad to help, as long as you say Trick Or Treat first!"

“Trick or Treat!" the goat giggled, and hopped over the fence into the sty. She was soon surrounded by swine, swaying sultrily as she begged to be slimed.

But the goat quickly realized she'd made a mistake. Her hooves were slowly sinking into the floor, because the floor was in fact nothing but thick, partially dried mud. When the first hog mounded her, his weight began to push the goat down deeper and deeper. She sank up to her knees, her belly pressing into the mud.

The hog was easily pleasured. He squirted soupy goats of cum for over five minutes, filling her to the brim. The next one mounted her the other direction, making her suck his dirty, muddy pork sausage until he flooded her with punk, filling her stomach to bursting with swine fluid. Pig after pig lined up to use the goat, glazing her back, but the pervy pigs also enjoyed peeing on her, and boy did they have big bladders. So much yellow liquid flooded over her that it was pooling around her body, soaking into the mud and making it more liquid. She continued to sink deeper.

“Meh-eh-maybe I should go now," she bleated nervously, and tried to make her exit, but found that she was stuck! She scooted forward just an inch, then was sucked back with a grotesque squelch. “Well, fuck."

“The farmer warned you to stay away from the pigsty," observed a female barn cat.

“Silly me." The goat thought about her predicament: trapped in a stay with over half a dozen randy hogs. “Oh, well. While I'm stuck here, you boys might as well have some fun."

“Ugh! You're so nasty!" the cat strutted away, leaving the goat to her fate. The largest and fattest of the pigs stirred from his swinish slumber and lumbered up to her, wading through the mud. He presented his dirty, unwashed scrotum and taint for her to lick, then mounted her. His weight would have hurt her knees on dry land, but here in the mud, it just pushed her down deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“Uh oh! Blehh-eh-ehh! I'm up to my shoulders here!" bleated the goat. “Maybe I should be on top! I'm sinking!"

The pig took no notice. Snorting and oinking, he humped her balls-deep even as her hips were forced beneath the sty's swampy surface. He pulled out, spurting profusely against her back, then grunted in relieve and released a steady, endless stream of warmth. When he finally climbed off her with a squelch, mud rushed into the space he'd left behind, pouring over the goat's back.

It was only then that she realized the true direness of her predicament. She was up to her neck in mud, surrounded by a bunch of boorish boars. As each visited her over and over, contributing gallons of spunk pint after pint of piggy piss, whatever she didn't gulp down joined the mud around her, turning out it into a reeking, gooey, ammonia-laden swamp.

“You'd make a good sow, girl!" the largest boar bellowed. He planted a hoof on her head and shoved her face down into the foul, foamy lake of mud, cum, and piss that she was now neck deep in. She blew mournful bubbles until her lungs nearly burst. He let her up, and she spluttered and choked.

“Change... of plans..." she gurgled. “I'm not the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man this Halloween... I'm Gloppy the Molasses Monster."

“And don't you forget it!" laughed a pig. He climbed onto her, stuffing her mouth with his slimy sausage and forcing her head down again.

“Oh well..." the goat blew contented bubbles in the mire. “If you can't beat em, join em." She released her own achingly full bladder into the mud, despite knowing she'd be stewing in it all Halloween night. “Looks like the trick was on me after all."

Week 2:

Today, Paisley the Pine Marten got her owner to take her trick or treating in a cute little devil costume complete with horns, fake bat wings, and a red onesie that covered her legs and body. To keep her on her best behavior, he made a rule that she would only get to keep her treats and prizes if she went the entire evening without doing or saying anything inappropriate and kept her costume clean and dry.

You can't just take a wild animal trick or treating anywhere, of course. He had to drive her all the way to a special exotic pet halloween expo two hours away. Paisley was a good girl for once and went potty before leaving, but by the time they got there she had to pee.

“I'm not taking your costume off and back on," said her owner. “Just hold it in."

It turned out to be crowded, and it took a long time to get through all the booths. There were iguanas and lizards with dragon costumes, a serval in a homemade Catwoman suit, and a very embarrassed looking fennec fox dressed as a baby elephant with the outline of a puffy diaper clearly visible under its costume. Paisley soon wished she'd been wearing a diaper, no matter how stupid it looked. She'd drank way too much water before leaving, and kept visiting the water bowl at every booth they passed to make up for the lack of treats. Now her bladder was bursting! But she didn't want to leave early and miss out on any loot, so she persevered, pressing her hind legs together the whole time.

Three hours later, the pine marten was tired, hungry, and completely desperate. She begged her master to let her relieve herself before they started the long car ride home, but he didn't trust her.

“Did you pee before we left?"

“Yes!" Paisley whined, dancing her hindquarters from paw to paw.

“You've lied about it so many times I don't believe you. And you growled at that poor chinchilla, and made fun of that kinkajou's costume. You promised me you'd be on your best behavior or you wouldn't get any of the treats." He held up the bag and shook it. Paisley's stomach growled.

“I was, I was! I'm sorry! I tried really hard!"

“Okay, fine... I'll give you a second chance. But you have to wear your costume all the way home, because I don't trust you not to pee in your carrier as soon as you don't have to be on your best behavior, or pee on my shoes if I take your costume off."

“I swear I won't pee on your shoes! Just let me go potty or I'll pee in my carrier anyway! It's two hours!"

“Exactly. I'm taking four hours to drive you to and from this because you wanted to go trick or treating. I'm not spending two of them in wet shoes, or in a car that smells like marten piss, because I trusted you again after how you behaved this evening."

Paisley had no choice but to agree to this rule. She squirmed and whimpered the entire ride home. Her bladder ached and throbbed with agonizing desperation. She'd almost made it when the first drops leaked into her costume. She wanted to give up and let it all flood out so badly, but the devilish marten had to behave like an angel or all her Halloween treats were going straight in the trash. But she'd just drunk too much water, and what her owner released from the carrier was a soggy, whimpering animal. The crotch and leggings of her cute red onesie were damp and stained dark, and Paisley was sniffling and crying from disappointment.

“I'm sorry!" she sobbed. “I just couldn't make it... I hate Halloween!"

Her owner realized he'd gone a little too far in disciplining his pet. He didn't want to completely ruin the holiday for her, just make her stop pissing herself on purpose for one day. “Are you sure it was a real accident?" he asked.

“Yes!" Paisley sniffled. “I've been trying to hold it in the whole time!" Her bladder was still desperately, painfully full. “Can you take it off me so I can pee? I promise I'll use the litterbox this time!"

“Are you sure? Your costume's already all wet." Her owner tried to stay firm in the face of his bratty pet, but she really did look adorable with those little devil horns. “And I guess I should have let you go before we left the expo. Seven hours is a long time for a little noodle like you, isn't it? You can finish wetting it if you want to."

Paisley's tail started to wag, then she tucked it under her damp crotch as another drop escaped. “Can you put a diaper on me instead? There was a fennec there wearing one and I didn't even encourage her to have an accident."

Her master agreed, and rolled the wet animal on her back to change her on a puppy pad. “Ugh! You really soaked it," he complained as he had to touch her piss-soaked costume. He opened the velcro on her back and tail, but it was still hard to take off a squirmy mustelid, and he accidentally pressed down on Paisley's aching bladder. The marten let out a squeak of discomfort and mortification, but she knew her struggle was over. Ssssssss... “Ew! Paisley!" he shouted as the costume flooded with fresh liquid. She gasped as she felt the warm dampness spread all over her lower half. The costume was drenched, and so were her owner's hands as he tried to get it off his pet mid-accident. Spurts of warm pee kept liking out of her. Paisley whimpered and gritted her teeth, trying to stop the flow, but her bladder couldn't take any more. He pressed his thumb against her privates, making her shiver in delight. It felt so good, but it wasn't worth forfeiting her Halloween haul.

“Sorry!" she whined, tearing up again. She finally got the flow to stop. “

Her owner sighed. “I can't take you anywhere," he said. “It's too late for the diaper now. You'll be empty by the time I get it on you."

Paisley let out a startled squeak, as well as another spurt of urine, as her owner lifted her hind paws up until she was upside down. She was still half in and half out of her costume, with the soggy back half bunched up on her chest, close enough to sniff. It smelled so good... the silly marten succumbed to the urge and released her bladder completely. She panted and gasped in relieved pleasure as a yellow waterfall poured down her body. There was still so much... her master aimed for her, pushing her hips further and further until the stream rained down on her face. Paisley closed her eyes and let the acrid liquid soak her, then opened her mouth, and happily emptied her bladder all over herself.

“Oh my God, Paisley, this was supposed to be a punishment! I'm leaving 20% of your candy out for the squirrels! You little pervert!"

“Worth it..." she gurgled.

Week 3:

Kevin, the ground squirrel from Day 20, went to a Halloween party at a mutual friend's house and got totally smashed, with predictable effects on his bladder from half a dozen beers and several glasses of blood colored punch. But every time he went to one of the bathrooms, there was a line, and often suspiciously sex like noises coming from under the door. After hours of discomfort, he gave up and stumbled out the door to the traditional partygoer's restroom of last resort: the bushes in the backyard.

He found a conveniently sheltered set of shrubs, and hurriedly unzipped, only to hear an indignant: “Hey!" He squinted through his beer goggles to see... a familiar looking cheetah lady, in a rather skimpy witch costume, frozen midway through the process of hiking up her skirt and squatting.

“What the fuck? You can't just whip it out in public, you fucking pervert!"

“Oh shit! It's you! From the concert! I'm so sorry, I wasn't peeping this time I swear! I was just looking for somewhere to take a piss!" Kevin zipped up and turned around to go back inside, but she spun him around by his shoulder.

“You think I believe that? This is the second time I've caught you red handed creeping on me!" she slurred, breathing breath that smelled like punch in his hand. She was clutching an empty solo cup.

“I didn't even know you were at this party, I swear! I'll just – I'll wait for the bathroom!"

“Hold on! You're not going anywhere. There's only two reasons to piss in the bushes at someone else's house: you can't wait for the bathroom, or you're a pee pervert who gets off two doing it in public! Which is it?"

Kevin whimpered and tucked his tail under, but his sole remaining functional brain cell at this point in the party took control of his mouth. “Then what are you doing out here in the bushes?"

The cheetah blushed right through her fur. “Umm... shut up!" she dug her claws into his shoulder. “I've just had soooo much beer and punch, it's going right through me!"

“So have I! I'm innocent, I swear!"

“Then prove it. Let's see how badly you really have to go." The cheetah's hand moved down to Kevin's zipper.

“Huh?"

“You're going to pee with me watching, to make sure you weren't lying about having to go. What's wrong? It's not like I haven't seen it before."

Kevin knew that all too well. He was having flashbacks to watching his stream gush all over the cheetah's face. He'd proved that guys could pee without being hard, but at what cost?

“Okay, fine..." he helped her undo his zipper, tugged his boxers down, and swatted her hand away from his cock. “Hey! I'm not so drunk I can't aim by myself!"

The cheetah knelt down on the grass and held up the solo cup.

“What the fuck? Are you giving me a drug test?"

“I'm going to see how many times you fill it! That'll prove how full your bladder was!"

Kevin's sole remaining functional brain cell gave up and accepted the drunken logic of this. He sighed, forced his muscles to relax, and let go. A thin but forceful stream of pee spattered noisily against the plastic cup. He sighed in relief. Man, he really needed this. He might have pissed his pants if he waited inside much longer, he'd just been hoping the cheetah would finish her business and he could sneak back out. Instead, she could probably feel the warmth of his urine through the thin plastic right now. His stream was getting stronger. The liquid in the cup was rising fast. It was getting fuller, and fuller. It was about to overflow!

The cheetah suddenly pinched off the flow, causing Kevin to wince and curse in distress. The cheetah looked at the cup, brimming with golden liquid. She poured it out... right down her dress. What the fuck? She held it out under his dick again, but when she released the pinch, the pent up pressure made it spray out way more strongly than it had before, blasting her right in the face!

“Ack! Fuck!" the cheetah spluttered. Kevin's stream returned to normal, and he quickly began to fill up the second cup. The dripping cheetah glared at him the whole time. He was so distracted he didn't think about how full the cup was getting until he noticed it overflowing badly, pouring down her arm.

“Uh oh! It's full!" he pointed it out. The cheetah swore. She leaned forward, slurping at the cup like it was a foaming over glass of beer, and catching his stream right in the face. Her eyes widened as she caught her mistake, but instead of recoiling in disgust, she doubled down. Kevin could only watch in horror as the cheetah slowly chugged the massive glass of piss. His piss. And he couldn't stop the flow either, it was showering her face! She drained the glass with a sigh, and held the cup out again. A third time it filled to the brim, but once it overflowed, the cheetah poured it over her face and threw it aside. She lunged, wrapping her mouth around his cock.

“What the fuck?" Kevin gasped. His knees quaked, but he couldn't stop pissing. Right in her mouth. She was just letting him do it. She was making him do it. She gulped down swallow after swallow, then pulled back with a gasp and a belch. She wiped her mouth, but her hand was on his dick now, aiming for him and directing his stream in her face again. It started to peter out, but she pinched it off again and let it go, blasting herself with another spurt of pressurized pee. She repeated the move ten times before he was just dribbling, then lapped the last drops from his tip.

“Holy shit..." Kevin moaned, staring aghast at the soaking wet, purring feline, then down at his rising boner. He quickly stuffed it back in his undies, which gained a big dark spot from a few last sneaky drops.

The cheetah looked up at him with a sadistic smirk. “Ha ha ha! I can't believe you agreed to take a leak with me watching you! I knew you were a perv!" She stood up and poked him in the chest with a wet finger.

“What? That's not fair, I filled that cup three times! And that doesn't even count all that I..." peed all over her, and in her mouth, he thought. “Missed the cup with," he said. “I told you I had to go!" The sole remaining functional brain cell came to life again. “Wait a minute! How do I know you weren't hiding in the bushes trying to watch people peeing? Maybe you're the pervert! You're the one who keeps grabbing my dick, and sucking it and drinking it!"

“Excuse me? I was about to piss myself! I only stopped because you barged out here and interrupted me! Do you want proof of how bad I have to go?"

“Not really," said Kevin, but the cheetah still pushed him down and shoved the solo cup into his hand. He was sitting in his own puddle. The wet grass was soaking through his pants.

The cheetah hiked up her skirt, too late as pale golden liquid dribbled from between her legs. Another spurt escaped into her very revealing black panties. Fuck... that was hot. Kevin held the cup up in self defense as she pushed him aside, just in time. Her stream hit the plastic with a thunderous roar. So warm... wow, she really did have to go, it was like a faucet. Shit, the cup was overflowing already! It was getting all over his hands! He lowered it to pour it out, but girls had nothing to pinch off to stop the flow, and as Kevin had learned at that fateful concert, even if he was brave enough to try to cork her vagina it would have been useless. His face was drenched in a firehose of warm, acrid pee. It was soaking his fur, stinging his eyes, pouring down his body.

The cheetah pushed him down onto his back with a feral growl. She shuffled forward, kneeling over him. He could see right up her skirt, and the view of her beautiful legs clad in sheer black stockings that didn't hide the spots on her fur was a good one. Pee was dripping down her legs. She let her panties go and flooded them with another torrent, then pulled them aside again. Her stream gushed over his face, getting her musky stench up his nose. He opened his mouth and let it fill with the acrid, salty recycled beer and punch. She was grabbing his ear, holding him in place under the waterfall. He swallowed. It wasn't bad, actually. He reached his head upward, questing with his tongue until he found the source of the fountain. The cheetah giggled and purred. Kevin licked, and slurped, worshipping the cheetah's folds even though they were still gushing warm piss. This was what he deserved for looking up a girl's skirt while she took a leak. Maybe she was right: he must be a pee pervert for letting her do this to him.

Her stream eventually ran dry, but their clothes were soaked. Naturally, they had to take them off. And then, back there in the bushes, rolling around on the wet grass with their bodies completely exposed, Kevin did what came naturally.

He woke up on November First with a massive hangover, and a soft, slender arm draped over him. He was in his own bed, naked, with the cheetah snuggled up next to him, also naked. He pushed her off. Her eyes opened. They stared at each other, and blushed.

“Oh, fuck, what did we just do last night?" Kevin groaned in horror.

The cheetah rubbed her eyes. She squinted at the window and Kevin's alarm clock. “You don't remember? You got us kicked out of the party by perving on me, and one of your friends drove us to your place. I hope you don't mind me crashing here, my roommate's a bitch and gets mad when I come home late. I don't remember much after that."

Kevin didn't know what had happened after they got home either, but he was sore all over, had a few suspicious clawmarks, and the cheetah's whiskers and muzzle were crusty. They also both utterly reeked of piss. The sheets felt suspiciously damp and clammy too. His bladder was bursting. “Shit. I need to take a shower, but if you want to go first, you can."

He started to get up, but the cheetah pressed her weight down on his chest, pinning him to the bed. She pushed the blanket off him, and her hand slide down to the ground squirrel's morning wood. “What's the rush? We're already both late for work, right? Let's enjoy the morning."

“I'm also about to piss myself."

She licked her lips and slowly turned around, straddling him. Her paw stroked up and down the helpless rodent's length, then her whiskers brushed against it, then her nose and lips. “Don't worry, at least one of us already pissed your bed." She licked him, her barbed feline tongue surprisingly gentle on his shaft. She slid back, kneeling on all fours and thrusting her crotch into his face. “And I'm about to make it a lot wetter anyway. Also I'm thirsty, so just let it out whenever." She slurped and suckled on his shaft. Her snatch smelled horrible, and her pubic fur was all crusty too, but Kevin automatically started licking out of arousal and chivalry. Warm, salty liquid began to wash over his face, soaking him and his pillow, and pouring into his mouth. His moans of protest were drowned out by the rush of her stream, and his attempts to get up quickly ceased. “See? There's no point showering until we're done peeing?" she purred. “And then... why take turns? What are you gonna see that you haven't already seen, you little pervert?"

Week 4:

Michelle, the Red Squirrel from Day 27, is participating in a roleplay of a horror movie scenario. She, an innocent but careless hiker, has gotten lost in the backwoods and captured by a cult of depraved sex fiends. Four masked furs accosted her on the trail, chased her down and beat her with sticks until the squirrel was bruised and begging for mercy. They dragged her back to their compound, and threw her in a run down shack, bound hand and foot, to await her fate. Like any wise hiker Michelle had made sure to stay hydrated, but she'd conveniently forgotten a funnel to help her pee in the woods, so when she was captured she already had to go pretty badly. After two hours of writhing on the shack's dirt floor, the squirrel lost control of her bladder. A warm, damp feeling spread rapidly from her crotch all over her legs as she slowly leaked into her jeans, soaking herself with her own piss.

Her accident finished just in time for a hulking bear to burst in and find her sobbing and writhing in the puddle. He grabbed her bound wrists and dragged her roughly out of the shack, where other furs were waiting. The bear, a buck, a male dog and a mean looking wolverine woman stood masked and smeared with fake blood, but otherwise naked. Beside them, three already broken initiates knelt in chains: a vixen, a dappled grey mare, and a skinny rat man who Michelle recognized because he worked at the local hardware store. She'd keep his hobby a secret, but it was going to be really awkward buying zip ties and rolls of duct tape now.

The bear led Michelle to an alter post, where she was tied and paddled with a wooden board until her buttocks ached. The cultists stripped her clothed off, and stuffed her urine-soaked panties in her mouth as a gag, while the buck, dog, and bear roughly had their way with her. So did the wolverine, with the help of a strap on. She spat in the helpless squirrels face and slapped her for moaning too loudly. They let her drink her fill of water after that, but night was falling, and it was time for the dark ritual to begin.

Michelle was bound on an altar, flat on her back with her legs and arms spread. They lit candles in a circle around her, and the broken furs took turns picking them up and tipping them over her, dripping painful hot wax into her fur while they stared with vacant, glassy eyes at the buck, who was reading passages from a book with an inverted pentagram on the cover. He called one of the faithful flock to him, and made the mare kneel before him. Michelle couldn't see, but she could guess from the slurping sounds what the horse had to do. The dog, meanwhile, mounted the bound squirrel and fucked her violently, until his knot stretched her poor, abused hole. The bear, when it was his turn, brought his throbbing member to her face, and the fawning vixen stroked his cock until he spooged all over Michelle's face and whiskers. The wolverine, now free of her strapon, sat on her face. Michelle licked obediently, savoring the taste of the domme's juices leaking all over her.

They all took turns in the horrific orgy, with Michelle and the three broken slaves forced to suck off the male cultists or go down on the wolverine, but from time to time the squirrel felt noses and tongues snuffle and slurp between her legs too. She was dripping with arousal, especially at the thought that not only did they have to lick up their masters' sloppy seconds, but she'd peed her pants and not been cleaned up at all.

It was fully dark now, and the profane ritual reached its climax. The buck lead his congregation in a solemn, guttural prayer. Still chanting, he approached Michelle, penis in hand. The squirrel squirmed in her bonds and couldn't hold back a smile. Her heart raced knowing what was about to happen.

The buck began to urinate on her, a wavering stream of pungent golden deer piss raining down on the squirrel's stomach. He moved it back and forth, showering her chest, then her crotch. It wasn't the warmest of Halloween nights, and the liquid steamed in the air. The cultists whooped and howled.

Michelle was dripping wet from the shoulders down. The squirrel's bladder had refilled quickly, and she tried to close her sore legs to reduce the urgency. The wolverine dragged the vixen by the chain around her neck, and pushed her onto Michelle. The fox stumbled, and ended up on top of her. With her eyes still seemingly vacant, the fox sniffed the squirrels urine-soaked breasts, shoving her nose into her wet, fluffy cleavage, then licked her nipples mechanically. Michelle heard a whine of pleasure deep in the vulpine's throat, but she played her part well as she crawled further up to kiss her on the lips. She sat up, straddling the squirrel, as the bear prepared to empty his bladder.

He let loose with a powerful jet that splashed the vixen's stomach and rained down on Michelle. He grunted, lowered his aim, and began to soak her tits again, then lowered it even further to her face, glowering evilly through the eye slits in his mask. The squirrel writhed and coughed, trying to keep the foul liquid from getting in her eyes and mouth. So nasty... his mark was turning her into something, something that was less than anthropomorphic. The vixen leaned forward, and the cruel bear showered her face and back, leaving her fur dripping with piss. She massaged Michelle's shoulders, then gripped her head and leaned in for another kiss. The bear was soaking her back, but he returned his stream to the pair's heads, peeing full force all over the vixen's face and making the warm liquid pour down on the squirrel. She tasted it seeping past their lips. So salty, but she needed salt after that hike. She couldn't drink... eww! Why would she drink piss? She tried to convince herself of the disgust any sane fur should have been feeling.

The bear finally ran dry. The wolverine shoved the vixen aside and off the altar with a yelp, leaving her sprawled on the dirt. She clambered up herself and stood straddling Michelle. The squirrel's heart thudded in her chest. She wanted to beg for it now. No, she wasn't supposed to be broken yet!

Liquid began to dribble from the wolverine's crotch. She growled, and spread her lips wide with her claws, then unleashed a violent firehose of acrid piss that blasted into poor Michelle's face. The squirrel squealed and choked. Right in her eyes! Fuck, it stung! She shook herself and blinked, only to see the cruel mustelid squatting lower over her, to spray her with another geyser. She took it on the cheek at first, but she knew what she had to do. She opened her mouth. The torrent of hot, foaming liquid surged against her molars and the back of her throat, filling her maw to the brim with bubbling yellow. She had a powerful, musky flavor. Michelle spat once, and moaned pathetically as the wolverine brought her hairy, dripping snatch right up to the squirrel's lips.

“Drink, slave."

She started peeing like a faucet, flooding Michelle's mouth with a golden lake. Michelle clenched her fists in discomfort and strained against the ropes as she took the first gulp of urine. It burned the back of her throat, but she had no choice but to keep drinking. More... more... more... her rodent cheek pouches bulged out with liquid. Fuck, why wasn't it stopping? How big was her bladder? This was insane! She couldn't expect her to drink this much? How much had she drunk already? So much...

The squirrel's eyes rolled back in her head. She spluttered and gurgled helplessly, nearly drowning in the raging cataract of pee surging from the wolverine's crotch. Ugh, mustelid pee always tasted so bad! It was the perfect flavor to make a slutty squirrel who'd learned to enjoy the taste of urine to feel the fear and horror of being treated like a urinal for the first time, though.

When she finally finished, and Michelle licked the last drops from the wolverine's rancid folds, the squirrel's stomach felt like it would burst. So much... at least there was just the dog left, and the vixen climbed back up to share it with her. She ground her nether regions against Michelle's, which were exposed and laid bare by the ropes spreading her legs.

The dog really had to go, too. Another warm, golden fountain flooded the vixen's mouth and poured down her slender body onto Michelle. She struggled beneath the cult-slave's weight, then the stream was aimed down and inundated her face again. She opened her mouth. She just wanted the taste of that wolverine's rancid piss out of it. Glug, glug, glug... okay, maybe she was still thirsty. He gave the vixen a drink too, which she gladly lapped up, then dipped his cock down right into Michelle's mouth, filling her cheeks again and letting yellow, salty liquid spill into her nose and eyes.

Thank God it was over, Michelle thought. Had she withstood... no, no what was happening! The mare was being led onto the altar. She stood over her, chanted a series of meaningless syllables, and began to shower Michelle in even more pee. The rat from the hardware store was dragged up to the altar too. The snarling wolverine held his cock for him and forced him to contribute his own offering. Two showers at once poured down on Michelle. There was a slender tongue licking between her legs. Fuck, it felt so good... the rat started peeing in her mouth. The squirrel gagged and convulsed. The innocent hiker, she thought, existed no more. She was lost forever to the depraved piss worshippers that stalked these woods. Her hips bucked and quivered as she started squirting uncontrollably in the vixen's face. Someone held a container to her crotch, but she barely even noticed as streams poured down on her tits and face.

When she came too, the vixen was kneeling prostrate, holding a vase filled with a huge amount of yellow liquid. Wow, Michelle thought, blushing. I peed that much? The mare held up a big bowl, and at the instructions of the buck the vixen poured the golden fluid into it. Then the cultists took off their masks, and each of them in turn chanted something and knelt down to lap and sip at it. Most of it was still left over. The buck took the bowl and gently poured some of its contents over the vixen's head, then the mare, then the rat. There was still a lot left. He stepped up to Michelle, and began to drizzle her with it, anointing her with her own pee, pouring the last of it back onto her pussy from whence it came.

Well, now it was over... no, wait? The vixen hadn't peed yet! The chanting began again. Michelle found herself chanting along even though she didn't know the lyrics. Her sight blurred as the vixen was led onto the alter. She straddled the squirrel and sat down on her face. The squirrel, now the cult's latest urinal slave, obediently lapped at the dirty fox's private parts, even teasing right underneath her dripping, fluffy tail. She kept going, even as a gentle but foul and pungent river of fox urine started to pour into her mouth, drenching her face once more. Her stomach was so full, but she let it run down her throat anyway. Ahh... it was what she deserved for carelessly walking into the woods alone without telling anyone where she was going. No one would look for her, and if anyone found her... they'd be the next victim. Maybe next Halloween.

The squirrel, her stomach taut and bloated with piss, was led in chains with the other slaves to a dark and dismal basement, where they were thrown in a closet sized cell with no room to lie anywhere but on top of each other. It reeked of stale urine. They were given a bucket of dirty water to drink from, but nothing to use as a toilet. Thanks to some diuretics the cult leader buck had cunningly laced his congregation's water drinking water with, they peed on each other all night long, and since the compound didn't have running water, in the morning each of the cultists had a massive bucket of foul, scummy, stale piss to throw in the slaves' faces.

“Last hurrah before No Nut November," commented the buck as he helped the cultists shower later, after they'd been unchained and gotten to stretch their sore muscles. In the perfectly working running water the cabin in the center of the compound had. “Any of you guys participating?"

“I never like that event," said the dog. “Sounds kind of cultish."

“I want nuts! All over my face!" Michelle blurted out, then blushed from ear to ear. The anonymous rat tried to cover a boner, but it was too late. She was never going to that hardware store again.