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Soaktober 2023 Week 4

Day 22: Intercrural Sex

Today, Paisley the Pine Marten’s owner gave in to her demands. “Fine, jesus christ I’ll have sex with you if it’ll shut you up for five minutes!” he groaned. “Why can’t I sleep in on Sundays?”

The hyperactive, needy marten was bouncing off the walls, and him. She wriggled under the blankets and shoved her head in his boxer shorts. “Mmff yhhh fmmff!”

“Ow! Careful with your claws! I’m getting up!”

Ten minutes later, Paisley was standing expectantly on a desk of just the right height, with mittens on her paws to prevent any further accidents with those sharp claws. Her owner tried to prevent another type of accident as well. “You went potty beforehand, right? Paisley?”

She nodded vigorously, and bowed low on the towels covering the desk, waving her fluffy tail in the air.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see any wet spots in your litterbox.”

The marten looked back with a mischievous smile. “Oh, I didn’t pee in the litterbox!”

“Where?”

“I’m not telling you until you use me as a cum sock!”

Of course, even the most ambitious pine marten has no hope of fitting a human cock inside herself, no matter how hard she tries. It’s just not physically possible. But Paisley and her owner have found other ways to have fun. He pushed the presenting pine marten’s rump lower down, then firmly grasped her chest and shoulders. He probed gently at her crotch, then slid his erect member between the much smaller animal’s spread legs. His length slid along her belly. Paisley slid herself back against him with a giggle. Back and forth, back and forth they slid, faster and faster! She clamped her quivering thighs together and humped him rapidly. Her fur was so soft and silky that his skin glided easily between her legs. Soon sticky droplets of pre stained her fluffy tummy, but Paisley didn’t mind that at all. She wanted to get much messier than this!

Paisley rolled over onto her back, letting her owner support her shoulders with his hand. He was using her body like a fleshlight, pumping her in and out so fast the marten couldn’t speak without her voice warbling. Which didn’t stop her from doing so. “Ooowowowowow... awawwewree youyuyuyu ee-ee-ee-ven try-y-y-y-iii-ii-i-ing?”

With this treatment, it wasn’t long before Paisley’s owner burst. Despite his complaints, her fur just felt so good against his cock that he couldn’t help it. Sticky spurts of cream colored liquid covered the cream colored patch of fur on her throat, and glazed her face like icing. It went all over her face, all over her paws, and all over her stomach. But this still wasn’t enough for the messy mustelid. She lapped the last drops from the tip, waggled her butt, and pounced, grinding against him until he was hard again.

But Paisley had told her owner a little teensy lie: she hadn’t gone potty beforehand. In fact, she’d been holding her pee all night. The marten’s little bladder was bursting! His penis pressing against her overfilled bladder made her desperation even worse. Paisley trembled, and clenched her hind legs together against her owner’s dick even harder. Soon she was dancing from side to side in agitation and grinding her private parts against him, as well as letting out little whimpers of discomfort and desperation. But she was too embarrassed to admit that she’d lied because she thought she could hold it in.

“P-please!” she whined. “I can’t take it anymore!”

“Shut up. You were the one who kept asking for this,” her owner scolded her. “And I know if I stop now you’ll be complaining again in an hour.”

He pinned Paisley’s shoulders to the desk, and his erection pressed against her belly so hard her hind paws were lifted off the mat. Paisley gritted her teeth and whined, with tears running down her muzzle. Her bladder hurt so badly! She knew that she’d made a terrible mistake, but it was too late.

“Hurry up, you idiot!” she squeaked, trying to keep the distress and urgency out of her voice.

“It’s been four rounds! You’re lucky I can still get hard at all!”

Paisley didn’t respond. She tensed and clenched as her bladder spasmed from the pressure her weight was putting on it. She couldn’t make it! She had to keep holding, she had to or she was going to be in so much trouble (like she really cared), but she couldn’t! It all started to leak out, then became a flood as her little bladder gave way and involuntarily released all its contents all over her owner’s cock.

“God, you’re so wet. Hey, wait... Paisley! What the fuck?”

“Sorry!” Paisley quivered with relief. Urine was still dripping down all over her hind legs. “It’s your fault for being so rough with me! I’m a small animal!”

“This is why I told you to go potty before doing this! Damnit, how did you even hold this much?”

Paisley slid her sopping wet crotch back and forth a little. She was wetting her belly, but she didn’t care. She arched her back, rubbing her pussy against his veiny skin. “You’re still going to finish, right? We’re already wet now, so blueballing yourself won’t do anything!”

“Okay, fine. You can keep going while I think about how to punish you. God, I knew I should’ve gotten a dog.”

The feeling of relief was so blissful that Paisley started purring. “If you think I peed a lot, imagine how big a dog’s bladder is.”

Of course, she didn’t escape her punishment. Paisley’s owner decided to teach her a lesson by showing her what it was like to be on the receiving end of having your partner suddenly drench you in piss during sex. While he had his pet pinned down on her back after spattering her chest with another creamy white load, he released his bladder. Due to the size difference, a minute later the marten was soaked from head to toe. Her fur was all matted into soggy spikes, and she was dripping everywhere. She looked and smelled like she’d gone swimming in a urinal troth.

“Eww...” coughed Paisley, wiping her dripping face. “This isn’t fair. I only wet your dick.”

“You’re the one who started the pissing contest. Come on, now you’re getting a bath.”

“No! One more round!”

Her wet fur felt so good against her master’s dick that he relented and indulged his pissy pine marten, thrusting between her sodden thighs until she finished him off one more time with her tongue.

Day 23: Collaring

Today, an Alaskan Klee Klai came home from the vet wearing the Cone of Shame. The little dog hated the cone of shame. It was bulky, uncomfortable, and in addition to stopping her from licking her itchy paw which was the reason for her wearing it, it stopped her from taking care of other needs as well. All afternoon she rubbed her crotch against the floor, the furniture, and even her owner’s pant leg. She whined and pleaded, but he remained unmoved.

“No! Bad dog!” he scolded her. “I’m having a party tonight, and you’d better be on your best behavior, or you’ll have to stay in your kennel all night. Do you understand?”

The Klee Klai hung her head forlornly and slunk away, accepting that she wouldn’t be getting off until the collar came off. She was on her best behavior, but the party guests certainly weren’t. Everyone was drinking, making rude jokes, and making fun of how the dog looked in her bulky Elizabethan Collar. Her owner was drinking a lot too, and he completely forgot about letting her outside to pee. The Klee Klai whined, scratched at the door, and finally resorted to coming up to party guests and staring at them pleadingly in hope that someone would understand her desperate situation before she made a puddle on the floor.

“She looks like she stuck her head in a lampshade!” one guy joked, and took another swig of beer while watching Monday Night Football.

“She looks like a urinal!” said another guest.

“Fuck, man, you’re right. She totally does.”

The Klee Klai whimpered, and started to cry as her already fragile self esteem was damaged by the rude comments. She pawed at her owner’s leg, hoping he would come to her defense, but instead, he just stared at her.

“Whoa. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Your dog’s been acting like a total slut all night. I bet she’s so desperate she’d let you use her like one too!”

“Ha ha, yeah! Did you see the way she’s been looking at us?”

The Klee Klai yapped in protest. She wanted to explain that she was on her best behavior, and she only needed a potty break, but of course being a dog she couldn’t talk, which was the reason for this whole miscommunication in the first place. Instead, she sat there, trembling, and licked her lips nervously.

“Whoa, did you see that? She’s licking her lips like she’s thirsty for piss!”

“Dude, we should totally do that. I don’t want to miss any of this game because I went to the bathroom. The commercial breaks almost over and I’m bursting.”

“Yeah, it’d be way more convenient to just use your dog as a urinal!”

“Come on, guys, there’s no way she’d just let everyone pee in her collar! No dog would hold still for that!”

The Klee Klai’s owner stood up and downed the rest of his drink. “Are you saying I can’t train my dog?”

“Uh, no. I’m just saying -”

“She’s so well trained, she would let us use her as a urinal if I told her too!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it!”

The Klee Klai knew she was doomed. Her owner would never back down from a challenge when he was drunk. She tried to slink away and hide under the bed, but the cone of shame wouldn’t fit. Soon she heard him angrily calling her back to the living room. Knowing she was on her best behavior tonight, she trotted back with her tail between her legs.

“Sit!” her owner ordered. “Stay. Tip your head back. Stay like that. Good dog.”

The poor Klee Klai sat there staring up at the faces of the room full of laughing, jeering drunks. They made her sit in a big plastic tub so pee wouldn’t get on the carpet, but they had no such concern for her fur as they bragged about how much they’d drunk over the course of the evening. The dog whimpered in despair as the first party guest stepped up and unzipped.

PTPTPTTPTPTPTPTPTPTTPSSSSSSSSFFWWSHPPPTTTTT. He started pissing like a lawn sprinkler. He was so wasted that he couldn’t aim, and his stream went back and forth between loudly hitting the sides of the cone of shame and splashing the Klee Klai’s forehead and ears. The little dog winced and struggled to resist turning her head away. She was on her very best behavior. She couldn’t disobey a direct command to stay. She whined pitifully as her face was drenched. His pee smelled so bad, like stale beer and unwashed human musk.

By the time he finished, his urine was pooling in the collar, lapping at the Klee Klai’s ears. She whined pitifully, but the next man ignored her sounds and shudders of disgust. He was too busy watching the game, even though it was a truck commercial.

The lake of urine in the collar rose higher and higher. Her ears were soon submerged, muffling the party guests cheering at the football game and jeering at the urinal dog. By the time the fourth man was done with her, her eyes had gone under. She kept them closed as long as she could, but the vile, salty liquid seeped through her eyelids. The stinging only lasted a little while before her eyes got used to it. She opened them again and watched sadly from beneath the rippling golden surface as guest after guest used her.

“Drink up, pup!” laughed her owner. The Klee Klai whined pitifully. The collar was leaking piss all down her fur, but it couldn’t keep up. The stinking liquid was reaching her nose now, filling her collar to the brim.

“She’d better drink or she’s gonna drown!” pointed out one of the crowd of laughing drunks. “Better start chugging, bitch, my bladder’s real full!”

The lake of piss was reaching her nostrils now. The poor dog had no choice. She opened her jaws just a crack. Immediately a waterfall rushed into her mouth. She gagged and shuddered at the taste. It was so salty and sickly sour.

“A urinal that doesn’t flush is useless!” complained her owner. “Drink it!”

The Klee Klai choked down one gulp of foul yellow liquid, then another. It rushed into her stomach, filling her until she felt bloated, but as soon as the level of liquid started to go down somebody stepped up and unleashed a hoselike stream right into her mouth. She lapped sadly at the salty torrent.

“Good dog!” laughed her owner. He spat in her collar, just to be extra rude, then he too stood in front of his canine urinal and unzipped. “Drink up, pup.”

The little Klee Klai’s betrayed howl came out as nothing but bubbles, as she gargled the ocean of piss that was almost up to her front teeth. Her own overstretched bladder burst, a gushing stream flooding out into the puddle in the bottom of the tub. Out of nothing more than instinct she got up and squatted, revealing her shameful accident for all to see.

“God, that’s disgusting!” said someone.

“Look at it drink!”

“This is why I’m a cat person!”

“In one end and out the other!”

A waterfall of piss overflowed out of the collar. The poor Klee Klai, terrified of disappointing her owner, gulped down all she could, even though her stomach was close to bursting.

Finally the last party guest’s bladder was empty. The dog sat in an inch deep lake of warm, foamy recycled beer, with another half a gallon slowly draining out of the collar.

“Good dog,” said her owner. The sopping canine started to step out of the tub. “Hey! Stay! You’re staying in there until the end of the game!”

It went into triple overtime, and half the guests stayed to watch the postgame show.

“Man, your dog’s got a really cool party trick,” said one of the guests as he stumbled out the door.”

“I know, right?” said the Klee Klai’s owner. “I think I’ll keep that collar on her an extra week or two.”

Day 24: Sex Toys

Today, Paisley the Pine Marten was feeling bored after her owner left for work when she realized her owner had forgotten to lock up his electric toothbrush. With a naughty grin she hopped up on the counter and snatched it from the charging stand. Despite knowing she wasn’t allowed to touch it, the misbehaving mustelid carried it across the house and curled up in her bed with it. She didn’t turn it on at first, just lay in bed hugging it and thinking about what she was about to do, until her urges got too strong and she found her paw reaching downward. She turned it on, and immediately felt her whole body tingle with the rumble.

Paisley lay on her back with her legs spread, and carefully guided the toothbrush between them with her front paws. The bristles massaging her belly already felt good, but when she found the right spot the marten let out a little squeak of pleasure and curled her toes.

She moved the toothbrush slowly back and forth, massaging her most sensitive areas with the firm, vibrating bristles. Her crotch felt sort of numb, but the sensation was still getting stronger and stronger. The buzzing bristles slipped between her folds, and out again. Paisley stared up at the ceiling, imagining all sorts of indecent scenes in the patterns on the drywall. Fuck, this felt so good! Every time the bristles brushed her tiny clit, the marten yelped softly. Her hind legs tensed and relaxed, tensed and untensed, until she felt sore. She huffed and panted, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she pleasured herself.

“Ahh! Hhhnnngg!” Paisley gritted her teeth and arched her back as her arousal grew to an almost unbearable peak. Her bladder throbbed with discomfort. She’d visited the water bowl way too many times that morning, and the litterbox not at all, but she couldn’t make herself stop. This just felt so good! She moved it faster, faster, pulling it away for a second then pressing the brush right against her clit. She quivered and tensed everything below her belly. Everything around her faded but the numbing tingliness and the constant buzzing. She twitched, and a skirt of liquid sprayed the toothbrush, but Paisley was in such a state of bliss she barely noticed herself leak. She just held it there against her crotch for the whole length of her climax, squirting all over herself and the bed. Only when her orgasm faded did she feel the liquid rushing out of her, but she just sighed and curled up around the toothbrush while her bladder drained.

FWRRRR-RRRR-RRR. RRRRRRRRRRRR. WHRRR, WHRR. WHHHRK. The electric toothbrush was just as exhausted as Paisley was. After a heroic effort its batteries where completely dead. Its vibration slowed and stopped. Paisley whacked it with her paw a few times, but it only briefly came back to life. It was not wet, slippery, and reeked of animal musk. Paisley’s hindquarters and tail were soaked in warm liquid.

“Oops,” she said, feeling between her legs and withdrawing a damp paw. “Man, why can’t he buy one with a longer battery life?” She padded to her water bowl, drank her fill, and returned to the wet bed. “Oh well,” she said. “I guess I can still use it.” She picked it up and wedged it between the couch cushions with a couple inches of the head sticking out at an angle: a perfect length for a marten to sit down on.

Day 25: Edgeplay

Today, Ruby’s owner volunteered her for a focus group to try out his brother-in-law's cousin’s new business idea: a Haunted House for Dogs. He was convinced that it was going to be the next big thing. “There’s playgrounds and salons for dogs!” he’d said when he pitched it last year. “And think about all the other holiday activities for pets: there’s Christmas gifts for dogs, there’s easter egg hunts for dogs, and even trick or treating for dogs! I’m telling you guys, there’s a market! You’ll see when I make millions off this!” This year, he’d actually done it.

Her owner was convinced: after all, the investment advice about Crypto had turned out fine. (He refused to believe he’d just gotten lucky). Ruby wasn’t so convinced. She was a Brittany Spaniel, a cute red-and-white medium-sized dog with long feathery fur and an undocked tail which she tucked between her legs as she was dragged past the big sign saying: “WARNING: THIS ATTRACTION HAS NOT BEEN APPROVED BY THE ASPCA.” She got even more uneasy when she found out her owner wouldn’t be walking her through the attraction: Ruby suffered from separation anxiety. She whined and tried to go back to her owner when the haunted house worker was handed her leash, but he just ignored her.

“Hmm? Yeah, Maximum scare factor, dude. Ruby watches horror movies with me. R-rated horror movies. She’ll be fine!” Ruby, who was scared that the monsters inside the TV would brutally murder her owner if she left the room and usually spent the whole film shivering in terror, barked indignantly that she hated horror movies. But her protests went unheeded. Her owner left her along with a stranger and she was led, harnessed, muzzled, and fitted with a shock collar, into the haunted house’s most forboding path.

“GRWAWWWWRRRR!” a massive animatronic bear with snarling jaws and glowing red eyes jumped out at her. Ruby yelped in fright and ran for her life, but was stopped abruptly by the leash. She barked furiously at the fake monster until it retracted into the wall. In the next room a man in a clown costume lunged out of the shadows, backing the terrified pooch into a corner and laughing in an ear grating falsetto at her attempt to press herself through the wall. The truth was, the haunted house was more thoughtfully designed than anyone would expect from a guy like Ruby’s owner’s brother in law’s cousin, and careful attention was paid to what would be scary to dogs.

In the next room, the dog walker took off Ruby’s leash and shut the door, leaving her alone. The brittany breathed a sigh of relief, but the room reeked of fear: canine fear. There were suspicious puddles in the corners. The supply closet burst open with a horribly familiar “BBVVVRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRROOOOOOOOORRRR!” Ruby shrieked in terror as another masked man came charging out with a vacuum cleaner at full blast. Ruby was terrified of vacuum cleaners. She ran for her life, but there was nowhere to run. The haunt worker chased her around the room in circles, laughing maniacally and brandishing his diabolical instrument. Ruby slipped in the suspicious puddles and fell painfully on her side. He jammed the vacuum into her fur, tugging at her ear with the suction. Ruby howled, growled, and snapped at the hose attachment, but she was still muzzled and completely defenseless! She scrabbled at the exit door. Finally it opened, and she fled down the corridor in a panic, with the vacuum-wielding marauder stalking menacingly behind her. Ahead it smelled strongly of blood and frightened dog piss, and barks of panic played over speakers in all directions.

The next room was dark. Thunder boomed, and lightning flashed. Ruby’s shock collar went off every time she barked. She was scared to go any further, but the vacuum cleaner man was creeping up behind her. She ran into the next hallway, only to smack into a barrier of clingfilm. She tore through it and fled around a corner, only to be confronted with... a steep flight of stairs! Ruby whined and barked. She licked her lips uneasily. Not stairs! She couldn’t do it! The vacuum had stopped. Maybe she was safe! She started to walk away, only for the masked man to seize her by the collar, choking her windpipe. He dragged the struggling canine to the stairs and pushed her over the edge. The steps turned out to be soft foam, as was the landing underneath, so she wasn’t injured, but that didn’t make tumbling down the steps any less terrifying. She limped away, shaking with terror, until she came to a forboding door. “VET’S OFFICE,” read the sign above.

Ruby gulped. She balked at the door. There had to be another way out. But Vacuum Cleaner Man appeared again, and dragged her by the collar into the vet’s office.

Here was the worst torture of all for the poor pooch. Three demented men in bloodstained scrubs burst through a door. Ruby was cornered and held down while they jabbed at her with various cold metal instruments. One of them yanked her tail roughly up, and another poked between her legs with a latex gloved hand. Then another got out... a needle? No! No, not a needle! Anything but a needle! It was sized for a horse, too, not a medium-sized dog like her! Ruby shrieked in terror and thrashed in the evil vets’ iron grip. The vet jabbed it violently into her skin over and over, first in her shoulder, then her forelegs, her back, and then even her throat.

The poor spaniel limped into the next room, sobbing with pair and terror. This room had a nice comfortable dog bed. Ruby collapsed into it, hoping finally it was all over. But this was the worst room of all: the Burglar room. The floor was wet everywhere, with a few bloodstains but mostly stale, ammonia-reeking liquid.

A door crashed open. A large man in a heavy jacket, with a ski mask over his face, lurched in, lunging for the terrified dog. He caught her by the collar, then flipped her legs out from under her and dropped her heavily onto her back. “I’m gonna kill you, just like I killed your humans!” he snarled. His breath reeked of alcohol. He pulled a knife out of his jacket, and with agonizing slowness, drew it down her chest and belly, leaving a painful, bloody scratch.

Poor Ruby couldn’t take any more of this torture. Sobbing and pleading for mercy, the brittany lost all control of her bladder. She’d had to go badly even before going into the haunted house. Now it all came gushing out all over her tucked tail as she peed herself from sheer terror. The man swore in disgust and smacked her across the face, but let go. Ruby scrambled up and limped toward the door with urine still pouring down her legs and soaking her tail, but he grabbed her again and tackled her into the growing puddle, snarling threats. He ziptied Ruby’s jaws shut, then took the muzzle off so he could rub her nose in the fresh puddle and leave her overwhelmed with the stench of her own fear and shame.

Needless to say, when Ruby’s owner came to pick her up she wasn’t the same dog who’d gone into the haunted house: cowering, shaking, and stinking of her own urine. Her owner groaned and facepalmed. “Ruby!” he scolded her. “You’d better not have peed in the haunted house. I told them you were house trained!”

He’d been right before, but Ruby wasn’t house trained anymore. For months afterward she would have nightmares and pee her bed uncontrollably, not to mention puddling the carpet every time anyone knocked at the door.

Day 26: Overstimulation?

DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO BE ADULTS FOR THEIR SPECIES

Today in the Pridelands, Kion was finding out the hard way that the life of a male lion wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He was fully grown and in his second breeding season, though he’d spent the first one away on important Lion Guard business, visiting other prides. He’d found it strange when he learned that in most prides the King was the mate of every lioness there, but in the Pridelands the King took only one mate while other males could take as many partners as they were able to woo. He’d been told that it was to prevent fights over mates and leadership that meant in other lands a king never lasted long, but now, Kion knew the real reason.

Lionesses were insatiable.

“Come on, you big lump!” Tiifu purred as she waggled her hindquarters at him. “You up for Round 15?”

“Hevi Kabisa, Tiifu, we’ve been going for hours! Aren’t you ready for a break?”

“I just had one, while you were with her!”

“You and Zuri were licking each other the whole time!” protested Kion. “How was that a break?”

“Umm, duhh, that’s just to tide us over while it’s not our turn,” Zuri said snidely.

“Well when do I get a break?”

“When we feel like it,” Vitani said with an uncomfortably menacing edge to her voice. “What’s the matter, Mr. Fiercest? Can’t handle us?”

Kion’s friends Zuri, Tiifu, and Vitani had all gone into heat at the same time, and he’d snuck off with them to a secluded clearing by a small watering hole to fool around. He’d thought it would be a quick liason, but it was now past noon and they still hadn’t given him a moment’s peace. To make matters worse, they’d been caught en route to the hideout by none other than Fuli, and when Tiifu couldn’t keep her mouth shut about what they were doing the cheetah had practically invited herself along because she hadn’t found a mate either. Sure, he’d been happy to have her join the fun: in recent months Kion had found himself feeling very glad Fuli always walked in front even when she was trying not to leave the rest of the group in the dust, because seeing her from that angle, especially when she held her tail high, gave him all sorts of incredible feelings.

No, he couldn’t deny that he was having the most pleasurable day of his life. He was head-over-heels for all four females. But he hadn’t realized what he was getting himself into, trying to satisfy three lionesses in heat and one cheetah, all at once. They’d found a patch of an herb that according to Zuri would help their bodies keep up with what their hearts desired, and physically it had worked. Kion’s erection hadn’t softened for hours, and his cock never seemed to run dry. He was leaking and oozing constantly, every mating session lasted for many blissful minutes, and no matter how many times he came his seed gushed and spurted vigorously (and messily). But it hadn’t granted the rest of him the same endurance. He hadn’t had the energy to mount them for a while (hence why he was now flat on his back, panting), and the constant stimulation was just too much. The slightest brush of their fur or whiskers against his lionhood was so intense it was almost painful.

Fuli uncurled from licking her own crotch, stretched, and padded over to him, her tail swishing. She reached out one forepaw and rubbed her pads up and down the length of his shaft. She only touched him gently, but it made Kion’s eyes tear up, and the lion shuddered as the overwhelming sensation rushed up his body. Her claws, blunted from running, dragged over his sensitive skin. “Aaagh! Fuli, cut it out!” he gasped. “No claws!”

“Okay, fine, I won’t use my claws.” Fuli nuzzled his penis. Her hot breath against his skin felt so strong, and her touch... she was purring like a thundering herd of zebras. The vibration ran all through his body. Kion tensed, curling his toes and unsheathing his claws. He tried to warn her of what was coming, but nothing came out but a pleading moan. His hips bucked and spasmed, and he closed his eyes as he felt the euphoric rush of escaping liquid.

“Eww! Kion, I barely even touched you!”

Kion opened his eyes. Fuli was glaring at him, or trying to, with fresh, glistening ropes of white goo clinging to her fur and whiskers all over her face. As soon as their eyes met she cracked up. “Who’s the fastest in the Pridelands now?” She hadn’t stopped purring.

“Sorry.”

She nuzzled Kion’s face, wiping the sticky mess in his mane. He hadn’t inherited his father’s voluminous locks and it was always a little underwhelming, but right now it was scraggly and matted with both his own fluids and his friends’. They wouldn’t even take turns. Now Tiifu, impatient for her Round 15, mounted him, but Zuri wasn’t willing to wait, and the blue-eyed lioness sat on his face, wedging his muzzle between her legs. She was sopping wet down there, and covered in the congealed mess of previous rounds. The smell and taste of her heat and arousal was overpowering. Kion went to work with his tongue, slurping dutifully at her sex while Tiifu thrust her hips up and down. Now that it had started he was in no hurry for this to end. It felt so good, even though it felt like torture.

When the two lionesses clambered off him and his throbbing erection started to go down, though, Kion felt another pressing need make itself top priority in his mind. The only break he’d been allowed all day long was to stagger to the watering hole and drink. Every time he was parched, and lapped at the dirty sun-warmed water until his stomach ached. Who knew how much he’d lost to panting, tears, and of course the copious amounts of spunk he’d been forced to fill his friends’ vaginas and mouths with over and over, but lots of it was going somewhere else. His bladder ached. It was a constant distraction, no matter how aroused he was: even in the throes of passion he could feel the dull throbbing, and when he started to soften the call of nature reasserted itself with urgent pangs of discomfort. He’d been embarrassed to speak up until now, but he was starting to worry that they really did intend to make him keep going nonstop all day. What none of the felines knew was that the herb they’d all partaken in wasn’t just an aphrodisiac but a powerful diuretic as well.

Kion started to rise, but Vitani pushed him down with a feral growl. She pressed her paw down right on his bladder, making his eyes water. “Wait! Vitani!” he protested. “I need to, uh... mark my territory!”

Vitani rolled her eyes. “Your territory will still be there when I’m done with you.”

“I need to go now! I’ve had to for a while, but you haven’t given me a chance!” He fidgeted as the skinny lioness tapped her claws against the slight bulge in his lower belly. He imagined it being punctured like a balloon.

“If you’ve been waiting that long, you can handle one more round, can’t you?” Vitani said with a sly smirk that sent a chill rushing down Kion’s back and tail. Why did she have to be so sexy when she did that? “None of the rest of us have stopped to water the grass either.”

“Seriously?” Kion knew the females had been drinking at least as much as him. Even Zuri, who refused to wade into the ankle-deep muddy banks of the watering hole, relented eventually. They’d all been holding it in that long?

“We can all take a break together when everyone’s ready.” I doubt that cheetah’s going to last too much longer either.”

“I have a name, you know!” said Fuli. “But yeah, I need to go water a tree soon too.”

“Wouldn’t you be ashamed to have less endurance than a cheetah?” Vitani sneered, climbing on top of him. She ignored Fuli’s indignant protest, and sat down on his crotch, rubbing her bony haunches back and forth. Kion quickly stiffened again, until with a wet SCHLICK, it went in. Kion winced as his bladder throbbed again. The lightest touch to his cock was unbearable, and her walls squeezing in on him was nearly agonizing. Not to mention he was worried that if he came right now, he might pee in her.

Luckily that didn’t happen, but Vitani knew how to drag mating out, and the urge to relieve himself was rapidly getting worse. The other lionesses seemed to be feeling the need now too. Zuri was fidgeting, her hind legs moving rapidly in and out, and Fuli was rocking back and forth. He didn’t know about Tiifu, because she was out of view, licking both him and Vitani under their tails out of boredom. “Will you hurry up?” the cheetah said. “I really have to go too.”

"You could just go find a bush right now,” said Kion. “You’re just sitting there.” But Vitani shook her head. There was a big glob of dried cum stuck in her topknot of head fur.

“Don’t you want to prove me wrong about cheetahs’ stamina?” she taunted Fuli. Kion groaned. It took an overly competitive lioness to know how to get under an overly competitive cheetah’s skin.

Finally Kion’s hips bucked, and he exploded into Vitani. She turned around and let him lick the fresh mess off her crotch, but instead of letting him up like she’d promised, after getting off him she started playing with his penis. Her tail twitched and tapped idly while she rubbed him with his paws, not letting him soften. Every touch was so much... her paw pads felt as rough as gravel, her fur so silky smooth. Kion squirmed and shuddered, trying to keep his knees apart. She licked, raking her barbed tongue up his length. He grimaced in pain, knowing that if he complained he’d get another lecture about how his own barbs felt (it couldn’t have been that bad if they kept demanding round after round).

She rubbed her nose right against the tip, then tickled him with her sticky whiskers, and pinched his penis between two toe beans, rubbing with unbearable gentleness. It was such a strong feeling, and so close to the relief of releasing his bladder.

“Let’s see how high it goes,” Vitani teased. “I bet I can get it on his face.”

She soon won her bet, and got a sticky paw too, but the cruel outlander just kept rubbing, brushing the tender inside edge of her paw pad right against Kion’s urethra. He grit his teeth, feeling like more liquid was going to come out. Too late he realized what it was. The constant stimulation had completely overpowered his body, and his muscles just accepted what was inevitable. A powerful spurt drenched Vitani’s paw.

“Hey!” Kion stammered. “Stop! I’m -”

“Ssshh,” Vitani rumbled. “Give in.”

With a defeated whimper Kion did give in. His legs were too sore for him to even think of trying to get up. He could only watch in horror, yet also pleasure and relief, as pale golden liquid began to spurt from his dick, getting more powerful and longer with every stroke of Vitani’s paw, until it became a nonstop stream. The others soon noticed.

“Ewwwwww!” said Zuri. “Gross! Kion! What the hell?”

“Looks like the only thing you’re marking today is yourself, Pridelander,” Vitani purred. The overstimulated lion could only watch it happen. His body twitched out of his control, his loins pulsating, pumping out wave after wave of pungent urine. He was still at half mast, spurting a golden fountain into the air. Vitani pushed his cock down at an angle.

“Ackgkk!” Kion choked as he sprayed himself right in the face. Vitani pressed down on his bladder, making it gush out with even more force. His entire bladder, enough to mark more than a mile of territorial borders, drained all over him, leaving him choking and sneezing, his belly fur soaked.

“Wow,” said Fuli. She was staring at him not with disgust, but astonishment. “That was... a lot. Anyway, I’m going to go water the bushes. You guys better not let him wash himself off in that water, I’m still thirsty.”

“I’m not touching him again while he’s like that!” Zuri complained. She had never outgrown her neat freak tendencies, even as an adult, but Kion agreed with her this time. If he was anyone else he wouldn’t want to be within five paces of him, or anywhere downwind, let alone make love to him. But maybe this had a bright side, he thought. This would be the end of their affections for the day. Possibly for good.

Tiifu sniffed cautiously, keeping her nose a good distance away from his wet fur. “It does smell kind of good,” she admitted. “Wow, before I just had to pee, but seeing that really makes me want to mark my territory for some reason. Maybe we should just go on the grass here.”

She was about to squat, and Fuli about to stagger off into the savanna underbrush, when Vitani smirked and said: “I have a better idea. Back in the Outlands it was customary for lionesses to mark their mates. I’ve always kind of wanted to try it, and, well, Kion stinks now anyway.”

“Wait, what?” Kion sat bolt upright. “You mean Outlanders p-pee on their mates?”

“That’s totally disgusting!” said Zuri.

“You’re kidding, right?” Fuli looked grossed out too.

“Nope. It was a way of letting other lionesses know who a guy’d been with. Males can’t tell you they’re your only true love if you can smell the lie all over them.”

“We’re not in the Outlands,” said Kion. “And I don’t think it’s tradition here. Besides, you all know who I’ve mated with because you’ve all been here the whole time.”

“I know. But I’ve had so much fun with you today I don’t wanna take any chances,” said Vitani with her cruel smirk. “But since I’m a Pridelander now, I’m compromising but letting us all share our claim on you. Think about it: the fearless leader of the Lion Guard, wearing all our scent!”

Kion expected Fuli to be the voice of reason, and explain the many reasons why that was a terrible idea. But there was a thrilled, hungry look in the cheetah’s eyes. “That makes sense,” she said. “What do you girls think?”

“I don’t know about this...” Zuri looked uncomfortable. But Tiifu replied happily:

“It sounds kind of fun!”

Kion groaned. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this. He struggled to rise, but Vitani had slammed her weight down on him and forced his hind legs open so hard he was too sore to move, and the outlander was already turning her back on him. She raised her tail high, giving him a chance to admire her wet feminine parts and winking tailhole while he contemplated his fate. Then she looked back with an evil grin, and sprayed him with a pulsing jet of yellow droplets. Kion sneezed and coughed at the acrid scent of her, but he could smell her heat so strongly that he was aroused in spite of himself.

He’d already gotten a good spraying, from head to toe sprinkled with urine. It was enough for a thorough marking of any tree, rock, or bush, but Vitani wasn’t stopping there. Her spraying became a strong, steady, stream, and the lioness breathed a small sigh of relief. She must have really had to go, Kion thought.

She cut off her stream and stepped away, kicking sand on him with her hindpaws. Fuli sniffed at Kion, wrinkled her nose, and turned around. “Sorry, Kion.” A jet of urine burst from between her legs, spraying him as casually as any landmark a cheetah could mark. She paid special attention to his face, giggling as she soaked him in her acrid stream. She walked away, still clenching her hind legs together.

Tiifu wasn’t nearly as practiced at marking things accurately, and she was so desperate she could barely control herself. She just pointed her butt in the right general direction and let loose, getting half of it on the ground, but the sheer volume that flooded out of the green-eyed lioness’s private parts more than made up for it. She sank until a grateful squat, gushing a foaming torrent onto Kion’s crotch. To his great shame, Kion felt, and saw, his rod harden again, stimulated by the blast of hot liquid.

“Don’t let it all out at once,” said Vitani. “We should take turns.”

Tiifu still peed for a long time before she could even stop the waterfall, and she dripped all over her legs as she stood up.

“Yuck,” commented Zuri. “I’m not licking you anymore.” She sniffed at Kion’s piss-soaked mane. “I still think this is gross,” she said. "But I... want to do it, and I don’t know why. I want you.” She didn’t bother with spraying him: she just straddled Kion awkwardly, and squatted. FFFSSSSHHHHHHH. She just started peeing like a river in full flood, drenching his chest fur. She looked back at him, blushed, and raised her stance higher, splashing his face with the golden fountain. Then she looked down. “What the heck?” she growled. “Did you seriously get hard from this?”

“No!” gulped Kion. Another spurt of pee splashed into his mouth. He hacked and choked, his nostrils flaring as her scent overwhelmed him. It was... not bad, actually. His hips bucked involuntarily. Luckily, he was spared from her wrath when Vitani did something even more offensive to the neat-freak lioness’s sensibilities. She lifted her tail and sprayed not just him, but Zuri with a golden fountain.

“Hey! What the – yuck!” Zuri jumped up. She swiped at Vitani, but the outlander laughed and bounded out of reach. Kion knew what was coming. A panic attack. Zuri started hyperventilating. She looked wildly from side to side. “You stupid – I have to get clean, I’ve got to get clean now.” She sprinted to the watering hole and flung herself into it with a splash. Kion got up and watched with sympathy as his friend writhed in the dirty water. When she stood up, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was covered in mud, but Tiifu broke the news bluntly.

Zuri took it surprisingly well. She burst into tears at first, but then her reaction turned to anger. She stalked towards Vitani with an icy glare, but instead of striking her she abruptly turned tail and sprayed a jet of urine right in the outlander’s smug face. By her standards that was taking it well. Vitani spluttered, growled, and tackled Zuri, bowling her over back into the mud. Tiifu and Kion tried to break up the fight, but only got dragged into it, and soon all five felines were a mess.

“This is your fault,” Zuri told Kion. “You and your – if you hadn’t peed yourself this wouldn’t have happened!” She pinned him down, squatted over his face, and unleashed a vengeful cataract of golden urine. She pawed at his crotch, making the male lion gasp, and instantly get a frothing mouthful of her warm, pungent fluids. Kion’s lion loins shuddered. Another touch, and her spurted an unknown liquid violently up into her chest and face. “Ack! Yuck! You really are disgusting!” she sobbed. “Fine, pee on me, I don’t care! I’m already – hey, I didn’t mean you! Quit it!”

Vitani was shamelessly pressure washing her flank with a jet of piss. “I was aiming for Kion. You were in the way.”

“I don’t believe you, but... whatever.” Zuri gulped. She sniffed Kion’s muddy, piss-soaked cock, pawed at it, and then, to Kion’s astonishment, licked. Her hindquarters hovered over him, plastered with soupy lake mud and dripping with urine. “I guess this does feel kind of good.”

“I hate to admit it, but you’re right.” Kion licked her right back. Zuri quivered, and splashed him with another golden spurt, then staggered way. Tiifu took her place, beaming down at Kion with her mud-spattered face and dripping whiskers. She soaked his shaft in another foaming waterfall, and Kion was still so overstimulated that the slightest touch was enough. His hips bucked and spasmed, making him blow his load all over himself and the peeing lioness.

“Wow,” she said. “You really made a mess. So, ready for round 18?”

“Yeah, but I think you lost count.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon that day in the Pridelands, Kion found himself flat on his back underneath Fuli. The cheetah’s coat was splotched with brown river muck, as was his own. Kion was squirming in discomfort, and Fuli’s slender cheetah hips quivered. Kion still hadn’t had a single break from his insatiable harem, except to drink copious amounts of water. His bladder was full to bursting. His face was between Fuli’s legs, and he slurped loyally at his fellow lion guard member’s pussy. Fuli, purring like a herd of stampeding wildebeest despite her desperation, pawed at Kion’s crotch, kneaded her forepaws on his aching bladder, and nuzzled his shaft, wiping the perpetually oozing globs of pre all over her face. The merest touch was enough to drive Kion mad. He moaned, begging for release. Fuli obliged, taking him into her mouth. All she had to do was hold him there and Kion began to spurt: first cum, then an acrid yellow drinking fountain. “Mmmrrr...” Fuli purred, gulping his stream down, and released her own. Her golden mark drenched his mane and flooded his mouth with her delicious cheetah scent and taste. Another stream of pee splashed onto Fuli’s head as Tiifu released her own perilously full bladder.

Fuli lifted her head, letting her friend’s stream soak her, and lapped at the cascading salty liquid. Vitani, for her part, stalked around the trio, marking them with powerful spurts of her acrid piss, then did her best to drown poor Zuri. She stuck her head under Tiifu’s stream too, licking Fuli’s face and Kion’s crotch, then hosed the Cheetah’s rump down with a powerful, gushing stream, sending sheets of urine cascading down her legs onto Kion.

Needless to say, the lions didn’t sleep a wink tonight.

Day 27: S&M

Today, Michelle the red squirrel sat huddled and quivering in the corner of the sex dungeon, with her fluffy tail curled up between her legs, wondering if she should see a doctor tomorrow. She parted her fur and looked at the bloody parallel scratches on her arm, and on her breasts. Asking her dom, a tall and powerfully built tiger named Andre, to use his claws on her had seemed sexy at the time. She hadn’t thought about the difference in size between her own claws, which were sharp but dainty, and the hooked knives on his massive hands. She’d gotten such a thrill of joy and terror at seeing drops of her own blood stain her fur, and at him licking it from his paw, but she hadn’t thought about how much it would endure compared to the pain from regular spanking, or even ear tweaking or tail pulling.

The squirrel hurt all over. Her wrists and ankles were chafed and sore from being strapped down to a breeding stool, her back and rump were scratched and bloody from being whipped with a riding crop and gouged with his claws, and between her legs... dear god, the barbs! It felt like she’d been fucked with a cheese grater. Even the tiger’s tongue, no less adorned with wicked hooks than his tongue, was an instrument of torture: they pierced right through the squirrel’s fur and broke the skin in the most sensitive of places. He’d broken the delicate skin on her nose, her ears, her footpaws, her nipples, and the vulnerable flesh between her sex and her tailhole. She was sitting on open wounds right now, and even though she was sure the dungeon had been thoroughly sterilized and both she and her partner had gone through a medical screening as a safety precaution, she was worried that she was going to get infected. Also, it fucking stung.

The door swung open with a creak, and the tiger returned. He dragged the squirrel lady to her feet, tugging roughly on her collar. “Stand up, slut, while you still can.”

“Owwwie! Fuck!” she gasped. Her legs were all stiff and sore. Andre smacked her, keeping his claws sheathed this time, but the blow still made the lacerations more painful. Michelle winced and groaned as she was bent double over the breeding stool once again. Her pulse quickened, and her muzzle flushed as she felt her tail instinctively raise, making her body available for her master. “S-s-Sir?” she stammered.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you’ve had enough yet.”

Michelle meekly explained her concerns. “I think I need some neosporin or something,” she said. “And a shower, to wash the cuts out.”

The tiger laughed cruelly, and slapped her sore rump, making the squirrel wail in pain. “Don’t worry, slut! I’ll give you a good shower after this next round... as long as you behave! Don’t make too much noise, or I’ll gag you again!”

The gag was just as spiny as Andre’s dick, and dug painfully into Michelle’s tongue and gums, so she bit her tongue as he peeled her lips open with a claw. The tiniest pinprick against her clitoris made her yelp in pain through gritted teeth. The safe word was on the tip of her tongue, but she choked it back. There was just one more round. She soon got lost in the pain and the sick thrill of feeling sorry for her poor, abused self. He mounted her, digging his claws into her shoulders, and once he was done with her he revealed that one more round made licking his cock clean, too.

Andre unstrapped her one more time, and led her to a barred off part of the room with a drain in the floor. Michelle looked hopefully at a tap and shower hose on the wall as he bound her hands over her head with a bungee cord that would let her kneel but not get any lower. Then she thought of another way he could torment her. “You’re not going to use freezing cold water, are you?”

“Nah, don’t worry, slut. It’s gonna be nice and warm...”

The tiger started to stroke his flaccid cock. He gripped it, stepping closer to Michelle, and nowhere near the showerhead. At first she thought he was going to force her to give him one last blowjob before he cleaned her up. But then the final torture began.

He started pissing on her. Michelle was so shocked by the cruel audacity of this obscene act that she froze up when the stream first hit her fur, then let out a shriek of pain when the liquid hit one of her numerous cuts and scrapes.

“Yeeeeeeeeerk! Owowowww! Dude! What the fuck? What is wrong with you?”

“Shut up. You wanted a shower, you’re getting a shower.”

“I said I didn’t want them getting infected!”

“Don’t worry, urine’s sterile. And the salt’ll kill any germs. They recommend doing this to wash out jellyfish stings.” He hit her left breast with a powerful spurt.

“Yeeeoww! It stings!” Michelle thought she’d read something online about that, but she was in too much pain to remember whether it had said to do it or not to do it. Holy shit, it burned! The squirrel squealed and yelped as her raw flesh was doused in deeply golden liquid. He was literally spraying salt in her open wounds. He moved around behind her, pissing all over her butt and back. Michelle wailed in pain, and stumbled forward. Lucky for her the bungee cord was gentler on her wrists than a hard rope, but the liquid hurt so bad! He tugged her tail firmly up, and washed the area under it with his stream. Even after twelve rounds strapped down on the breeding stool, she’d never felt so violated.

The sodden squirrel sank to her knees, breathlessly weeping. “Stop it!” she yowled as another burst of liquid hit her shoulders. “You asshole! It hurts!” The flow stopped, but the dripping continued. She shut her eyes, trying to blot out the stench of his musk and the throbbing stinging. She opened them to find herself staring down the barrel of the big cats cock. “Don’t you dare!”

Andre looked down at her with a cruel grin, and blasted her right in the face with a geyser of hot, stinking, stinging cat piss. “Aaaarrgh! My eyes – fuck, my mouth!” she choked and hacked. Her raw nose, her eyes, and even her tongue were stinging. She sobbed in pain and humiliation as his urine continued to wash over her. All knowledge of the safe word had fled her mind: she was fully immersed in this moment of total powerlessness. She was being treated like a urinal.

His stream finally abated, leaving the poor squirrel sobbing, spitting, and begging for clean water. But Andre insisted that she still needed her cuts to be washed out more, and slid a plastic jug under her stinging, burning private parts. Michelle tearfully submitted. She hadn’t been allowed to use the bathroom in many hours. The tiger tyrant watched her gratefully let go and fill the jug almost to the brim, then held it up for her to see. “Look at that. You really held in a lot, girl!”

Michelle could only nod despairingly, and brace herself for the burning agony of her own warm pee being poured over her battered body, stinging every last scrape and laceration. Her bladder wasn’t quite empty yet, and the pain made her lose control again, releasing a pattering stream into the puddle on the floor.

After that, she didn’t mind at all when her real shower was ice cold.

Day 28: Calling / Body Worship

Tonight is the Full Moon, but more importantly, it’s your first anniversary: two facts which you completely forgot about until it’s too late. You sleep in, play video games until 3:30 PM, and only realize at the last minute that you’ve fucked up big time. There’s no text from your girlfriend. Are you blocked? Ghosted? My God, she’s going to kill you, or dump you. You don’t know which is worse: you know she’s the one, but you’re such an idiot. You run out to the store in a panic, buying flowers, chocolates, and even a reasonably priced necklace. As soon as you get home, you summon up your courage and dial her number. This is much more important than a text.

The phone rings until you’re sure it’s about to go to voicemail. When she finally picks up, she sounds stressed. Probably waiting for you to call, you dumbass.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hey, honey, it’s me! Happy anniversary!”

“Huh? Hey! Oh, yeah, that... it’s... yeah, happy anniversary!”

“I know today is a big deal, which is why I totally remembered it like a devoted, loving boyfriend. I’ve been keeping this secret for a few weeks now, because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I was thinking we could go out to eat, see a movie, and then... a candlelit evening at my place.”

There’s a long, awkward silence.

“Or we could do your place. If you, you know, have something planned, I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Fuck,” she breathes. “Anon, it’s... not really a good time right now.”

You swallow hard. “Oh, shit, do you already have plans? I’m sorry, I didn’t want to give things away, I should have checked with you...”

“No, no, it’s not that! Things are just... a little complicated at the moment!”

Your heart sinks. “Complicated how?” God, not complicated meaning she’s seeing someone else? How cruel would that be, to be dumped on your anniversary! Could it be that she already has an anniversary date planned? No, she couldn’t, unless her other relationship started on the same day, and what are the odds of that? No, you’re overthinking it.

“It’s just a personal thing. I...” there’s the sound of heavy breathing, and a muttered: “Shit, shit, why did he have to call now?” then an almost panicked: “Sweetie, I love you, but this is seriously a bad time to talk. Can I call you back tomorrow? Or in a few days?”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, picking up the urgency in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she snaps, her voice taking on a low growl you’ve never heard. She coughs and clears her throat, but still sounds hoarse and gravelly.

“Fuck. It’s not COVID, is it?”

“No! Honey, I’m fine, it’s just... something that I promise I’ll explain later, when I’m in a better state of mind. Just -” a pained gasp blows out the phone’s mic. “Shit. Not now, come on!” She sounds practically terrified. She gives another groan.

“Megan, this is scaring me. Do you need me to come over and drive you to the hospital? Or call an ambulance?”

“No! Don’t come over! I’ll be fine, I just... AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”

The scream that blasts out of your speakers is truly bloodcurdling. You take the phone from your ear, and listen in shock as you hear crashing, the sound of heavy objects, falling, something, tearing. There’s another feminine scream, then a furious roar, followed by broken glass.

“Megan? Megan?” you say. “What the fuck?”

There’s no reply. Fearing the worst, a medical emergency or some methhead breaking in, you call emergency services, then leap in your car and race towards Megan’s house. But you get stuck in traffic on the freeway: a six car pileup involving two big rigs and some guy with a boat trailer traps you for nearly an hour. You get called back by the police department, saying they drove by the address and everything seems fine, but don’t realize that the address they said is the wrong one.

You get to her house, and find the front door wide open and a window busted in. It’s dark out, and all the lights are off. “Megan?” you tiptoe into the house, holding the wine bottle you bought a few hours earlier. You creep deeper in. There’s an end table knocked over, and strange gouge marks on the wall.

Then, behind you, you hear a low animal growl. You spin around in the darkened room, and shriek in terror as you see the thing coming out from behind the kitchen counter. It walks on all fours, staring at you with bright, inhuman eyes. Then it rears up on its hind legs, and you see the shape of it: lanky, half human and half canine, covered in dark, scraggly fur.

“What the fuck?” you stammer, backing away from the beast. You drop the wine bottle, which crashes loudly to the floor. “Is that?”

With a feral snarl the monster charges. It’s so fast you don’t have time to even think of running: you stumble back into Megan’s coffee table, and the thing pounces, bowling you backwards onto the sofa, which tips over from the momentum. You end up flat on your back with your legs in the air, pinned down under the clawed hand of the beast. Its slavering jaws drip spittle onto you. You blubber in terror, sure you’re about to be mauled to death. But the beast suddenly blinks at you, folding on ear and tilting its head in what can only be recognition.

“Megan?” you say, astonished. The beast’s musky scent is powerful, but you catch a slight hint of her favorite floral moisturizing body wash. “You’re... you’re... a werewolf?”

The werewolf snarls again, then licks your face with a long, slobbery tongue. Her breath reeks of dog. You try to push her off, but she snaps at you, pins your arms down, and continues her lupine greeting. She must still have something of her former mind, but the slavering beast that was once your girlfriend is a bit too happy to see you on your anniversary night. Her elongated, clawed hands grope at your clothing, and tear your shirt open. She snuffles at your crotch, and hooks a finger into the waistband of your pants. There’s nothing left of the gentle woman you fell in love with, only a lustful, aggressive beast. “Wait!” you say. “This isn’t a good time! Maybe we can do this tomorrow. You’re not... really yourself tonight, you’re not in your right mind! It’d be wrong to do anything while you’re like this – aaaaaggh!”

Megan rolls her eyes as if to say that she’s not the one being taken advantage of tonight, and rips your pants open, but your underwear prove surprisingly resilient, resulting in a nasty wedgie. “Ow! Fuck!” you kick at the werewolf’s belly, but your struggles are feeble: you’re pinned down under her weight, and maybe a little concussed from the sofa falling over. After a brief struggle you end up helping her pull your pants down. She needs no such assistance: whether it’s from her transformation or she had the foresight to disrobe beforehand, she’s completely naked, without even a scrap of clothing clinging to her elongated limbs and torso. Every change to her anatomy is on full display, including the several extra pairs of nipples, and a downstairs region that isn’t quite humanoid anymore: dark, triangular, canine-looking folds drip milky discharge onto your groin as she kneels over you. She lowers her hairy crotch down against yours, rubbing back and forth with her teeth still bared. The message is clear: you’d better get hard if you know what’s good for you.

You’re terrified of what she’ll do if you can’t get it up, but luckily you get a raging fear boner, and the werewolf has her way with you right there on the living room carpet. Something about the look in her eye tells you that part of her still remembers your phone conversation, and knows damn well you forgot the anniversary. She might also remember the time you came first and then fell asleep. Now, with all constraints of humanity and civilization gone from her mind, she’s driven by nothing more than feral, primal, animalistic lust, and she has no qualms about getting exactly what she wants out of you. It’s all too obvious who the alpha wolf is: not you.

And yet, you find the experience as arousing as it is traumatizing. Maybe those romance novel covers have a point after all: being dominated and subjugated by a horny, sex-crazed, stinky, musky werewolf hellbent on squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of you is pretty hot. You fall more and more in love with her in this new form with every fresh violation. When she presents her distorted body to be worshipped and fawned over, you obey without hesitation: kissing, caressing, and licking every inch of her: her face, her nipples, her paw pads, her sloppy mess of a vagina, and even her anus. Your mouth is full of wolf fur. You constantly taste her feminine musk. But you could get used to this, you think.

It’s not until the she-wolf demonstrates another wild and uncivilized instinct that you understand that dating a werewolf does have its disadvantages. With a toothy, feral grin, the beast cocks its leg and starts marking its territory on you. You shout in surprise as hot, golden liquid splashes against your body. You try to scoot out from under her, but she holds you done.

Mine, says the look in her inhuman amber eyes.

“I’m yours,” you whimper, and accept your fate. She moves her stream back and forth, turning around, squatting, drenching you in her musky odor. Acrid yellow liquid flows from between her legs like a faucet, washing over your skin, puddling under you and ruining the carpet. She moves the golden waterfall to your face. Fuck, there’s so much... she just won’t stop! You thrash your head from side to side, but the foul liquid gets up your nose, making you gag and choke.

With you fully anointed with her pungent piss, Megan seems satisfied. She sniffs your sopping body, then to your horror and disgust, licks. Then, to your terror, she bites. The wolfess sinks her teeth right into your forearm. You scream in pain and tear away from her jaws. There’s blood on her muzzle. There’s two rows of bloody tooth marks on your arm. Fuck, that hurts. Your pulse pounds in your head.

Was your arm always this hairy?

“Oh, shit.” You look up at the full moon, now fully visible through the broken window. Megan has an evil, triumphant smirk on her wolven face.

The transformation isn’t the fun part. It hurts having your limbs lengthen, your face change shape, and fur erupt from every pore of your skin. But it feels a lot better once you stop resisting. For tonight, your human worries fade away, replaced by the bestial instincts of a wolf alone with his mate. She rolls on her back for you now. Knowing that you’re still not the alpha wolf, you obediently mount her.

In this form, you have two urges. To mate... and to mark. You snuffle around the trashed living room, thinking of places to lift your leg, but you know deep in your heart the most important priority is to make sure your mate wears your scent. You push her to the ground, mount her, and cock your leg. Your bladder is achingly full. A strong, wavering stream splashes down on her fur. She groans, rolling on her back and writhing, with her tail wagging. She puts a hand to your stream, rubs it against your chest, then wets it again and wipes her face with it. You give a growl of understanding, and begin to drench her face as well, but there’s plenty of piss in you to mark every inch of her fur.

The next morning, you wake up sprawled on the overturned couch, your girlfriend by your side. You’re both naked, and you both reek of animal urine. You’re a little dismayed to realize you remember exactly what transpired this fateful night, and you make shameful eye contact with Megan as she too stirs.

“Fuck,” you say. “I guess I’ll have to return those silver earrings I got you.”