A Big, Comforted Cat

This one's a bit heavy, in a kinda emotional place, also not very horny

Contains female furry (lioness), nonspecific he/him partner, self-harm reference, cuddling in bed, darkness, comfort

The room is dark about me, not that I could see it from where I am, curled up under a duvet. I'm shaking, my gut hollow, barely avoiding tears. You wouldn't expect someone that looks like me to be so vulnerable, lean muscle on a predator's frame, a long mane spreading across the sheets. Sharp claws I'm keeping carefully tucked, so I don't hurt myself on them. I'm large, but my partner is larger, wrapping tight around his lioness and holding me tight. Soft, wordless reassurance, a grip strong enough to keep my soul in my body as his fingers gently knead the thick fur of my body. My tail coils around his leg, he won't let me go, but I'm not letting him go either.

I'm safe

It's not my fault

I'm okay

Eventually, I begin to believe it.

Don't think too hard about it, just go with what feels right:

A Pretty Stallionboi

Contains m/m, dom/sub, masc character, crossdressing, femboy, furry, anthro unicorn, chastity cage, oral sex

When you say 'stallion', people think big, broad shoulders and bulging muscles. I'm...not that. Even for a unicorn, often less bulky than other equines, I'm slim. Or at least, my upper body is slim and girlish. Further down...well, wide hips and a plump arse make for a soft silhouette. I don't dress many either, a pretty pink skirt and pretty pink collar, ready for my master's leash. Of course, that leash is only to get my horn in grabbing range, to pull my head down to his cock, pushing my arse up, my skirt lifted by my leonine tail, showing off that needy hole and the tight cage beneath it. Heavy balls that throb and pulse, but they don't get release until my master is satisfied.

I'm such a pretty boyslut.

I want to be a cute catboi. Fur soft, so, so soft, all curled and snuggled up. Wearing a pretty little skirt and a pretty little collar. Bound up tight, safe and warm, vibrating with my own purring. Hugging my own happy-twitching tail.

A Strong Snake

Contains an anthro snake nb (masc w/vagina and no penis), muscles, heavy dom/sub with a masc dom, bondage, exhibitionism, sex, petplay, ponyplay, eggs/oviposition (nbpreg/mpreg)

Today I want to be big buff snake-man, but with a needy pussy instead of a cock, ready to get filled properly. Confident, nude to get the best of the sun's warmth on my jewel-bright scales, the only clothing I wear a collar, marking me as owned, making any who look on me jealous of my master, to have such a pet, to have the will to command such a powerful beast. But he's generous, all they have to do is ask, and they can use whichever of my holes they wish, enjoying my well-practiced tongue and throat, spreading my toned arse with cocks or fingers, or riding my cunt to our mutual climax. I'm cuddly with all my partners, their body heat the best warmth.

Sometimes they write on me; adverts for my services, praise for my skill and beauty, thanks to my master for his sharing. It should be degrading, but I don't care, it's true, and if any should write meanness or lies, my master will help me wipe it away from scale and memory alike, because only his opinion matters in the end, and he will not have it mar my submission.

He likes to show me off, so maybe he'll take me out, leave me wrapped in an intricacy of ropes, tied kneeling atop a pedestal for the public's admiration. A toy in my pussy, a plug in my arse and a gag that taxes even a snake's ability to swallow. A buzz of vibration to make me squirm in the bonds, give a proper show as I drip onto the stone.

Or maybe he wants a pet of a different sort, strapping my limbs together to force me to all-fours, a crawling toy that's taken out for walks, a leash on my collar, forced to look up, instead of down, forbidden to speak, eating from bowls while the people treat me like the pet I am.

Maybe he'll want a show, and I'll dance for him, for whoever he wishes to show, perfect control, perfect precision. Only the light caressing my muscled body, at least until he can take no more, and his hands begin to grasp and grope, the touch delighting us both.

Perhaps he'll need a pony, not a snake, and my feet will be strapped into hooves, my arms into harness, and I'll pull his cart for him, letting him enjoy the beauty of the world and my body alike as my muscles strain and work.

Of course, such a sculpted body requires maintenance, even beyond the tasks my master assigns, so I spent much time in a gym, still nude, of course, and it's hard work. Hard work my master loves to watch, seeing the strain so rarely applicable to me, the tension of effort. And when it's done, and I soak under warm water, he gently massages the strain away.

Sometimes, of course, my womb will be filled with more than cum, bloating me out with eggs, leaving my skin taut and hard, adding more weight to the heft of my body, a weight I bear with grace. Even the laying is just another exercise for a different set of muscles, a straining labour that I perform with pride as the pearly globes slip free.

A Former Foxboy

Contains flashbacks of male-to-female transformation of an anthropomorphic fox, anthropomorphic wasp, dom/sub, petplay, light dehumanisation, piercings, oral sex

I'm a vixen, a foxgirl, fluffy-tailed and sleekly soft. I wasn't always, well, I was always a fox, but I was a foxboy, miserable like that, until I met my master, who gave me more than I knew I wanted.

The door opens behind me, and my waspish lover enters. His lower arms wrap around my waist an echo of when he pushed it in, making it femininely narrow, slenderly toned, his tight grip both causing and suppressing my delighted shiver. His upper arms grip my chest, the bars of his fingers a prison for the soft flesh, they did that before, a natural consequence of clutching my chest as it swelled from masculine flatness to proper globes, modest, perhaps, but perfect for us.

"My pretty pet."

I want to speak, to agree, but a pet doesn't use words, and I'm a good pet, so I only let out a pleased chuff, followed by a gasp as he flicks the rings in my nipples they hurt at first, as a piercing will, but only at first, and my master knows his craft well, knew how to make me good. His long tongue snakes out, coiling around my neck. He pauses a moment, wrapping my throat, not tight enough to choke, but enough to be firmly felt. I'm held for only a moment before he shows mercy, and the muscle lets me go, and slithers higher. He teases up my cheek, up the softness of my ears. There's piercings here too; even I must sometimes pretend to personhood, wear people-clothes, but these marks in my flesh are indelible reminders of whose I am.

The hands on my belly move lower, sliding over the curve of my hips and arse hours spent kneading and moulding, coaxing the swell to ideal curvaceousness, to meet his exacting standards, then move forwards, a long finger teasing my clit the bliss and pleasure as my cock throbbed and shrank away to the tiny nub and I tremble. It's only a brief touch, before he moves on to spread the cleft beneath a delightful sensation as he tucks away my balls into the forming space, a heat as they reform, using that sensitive place to clutch me close as my knees buckle. He bends down, one long finger hooking into my collar, and whispers.

"I bid to you kneel"

I exhale as I slide to my knees, my fur gliding across his chitin, guided by that thin finger all the way down. His finger slides up my neck, along the veins that pulse harder and harder at his touch, to the tip of my chin. The lightest pressure tips my head, to meet his gaze so far above me. His lanky form towers over me when I stand it always did, but the memory of watching that gap grow as I lost inches still gives me shivers, and when I kneel like this...he might as well be a giant, and I the insect.

"Good girl"

I purr as he moves around me, his fingers trailing across my body, leaving lines in my fur. A gentle nudge and I'm pulled forward to him, snuggling against his chitinous legs, burying my head in his crotch. My tongue slips out, tasting his sweetness, and he chuckles indulgently.

"This is where you belo ng, just a dumb pretty pet to decorate me." His scent grows stronger as his excitement builds to match mine, and his stiff cock rubs against my cheek. I whine, desperate, but don't move towards it, his good girl is not greedy, and he chuckles.

"Have my blessing"

I do not wait, my tongue and lips guiding that shaft into my mouth, letting it sink deep into my throat. He thrusts gently, petting me as I suck him off, his perfect, pretty pet.

A Pretty Pony

Contains ponyplay, bondage, anal sex, mild exhibitionism. Equine furry, ambiguous gender. Dom/sub relationship with masculine dom.

 I want to be a dumb pony. A pretty horsecreature that doesn't have to think much, just do as I'm told. No need for clothing beyond the leather straps of my tack, the harnesses that I use to pull my master. A swishing tail to teasingly cover and reveal the muscled arse beneath. Surrounded always by the scent of horse, I sleep in stables and speak never, even without the bit in my mouth I'd only whinny and neigh. There's moments of soft intimacy, the grooming, as brushes smooth my fur; and gentle tugs braid my mane in the same way they bind my arms, useless, to comfortable immobility. I have hooves, solid, that tap out a musical rhythm at my master's command, every movement of the dressage precise and practiced, performed perfectly thanks to long hours of training. Maybe I'll be rewarded with my master's touch, a reward he enjoys as much as I do, taking that arse he's been admiring all day until we're both satisfied, rhythm and poise lost in the feral fucking.

The practice and training will come out, eventually, to show day. Ponies are nervous, and I'm no exception, but my master is there to reassure me, as I'm wrapped in those familiar binds, with the additions demanded by this public performance, pretty ribbons and the proud plume, and we're called to the arena, before the crowd. And then the commands come, and my world shrinks again, to just me and my master, as I perform the dressage-dance once more, a perfect show pony, fit and healthy, sleek and pretty, and when I'm done, there'll be treats and rewards aplenty again.

A Large Lioness

I am a terror. Eight feet of muscle, visible through my tawny fur. Gleaming armour, a metal shell nearly as hard as me. A snarl that bares flesh-stripping teeth. An axe taller than most men, but that I wield as if it were a mere twig. They will come, those who would deny us our future. They will meet me, the lioness that they tell whispered tales of, and they will come no further. Their blood will be nothing but an accent to my awesome beauty, and then I shall wash it away in the company of friends and they will be nothing at all.

A Cute Ravengirl

Glossy feathers,

An iridescent black,

Spreading wings to lift my petite form aloft, framing the tight, colourful clothes that hug my hips and chest, tits that aren't avian displayed and hidden alike. A cawing laugh, unembarrassed and unafraid. Silver decoration, shining in the void. Eyes, bright as gems.

Strong arms grasp me, lift me high. My lover dwarfs me, and yet I'm safe with them, completely at their mercy, yet without fear. I might like things that glitter, but nothing is as precious as them.

A Soft Catgirl

Contains furry (female feline, unspecified male, unspecified female), female on female, male on female, master/slave play, lots of groping, light bondage, ring gag, light cunnilingus, light penis-in-vagina sex, mild exhibitionism/public, removing clothes

  I'm soft.

So luxuriantly soft, my fur so enticing that my Master can't keep help but touch, so she does. It starts subtle, a keenness to hold my hand, a gentle caress to my neck. But it's soon not enough, and her hands creep lower. I'm not allowed a bra beneath my shirt, so she can squish the flesh of my breasts unimpeded, the only hardness my nipples, perked in arousal. Her other hand crawls up, to any observer lost in the fluff of my belly, but I can feel everything as she strokes it smooth.

I purr, neither able nor willing to contain it, and she chuckles. Bending into my ear she teases me, her good kitten, and a flick of her tongue rings the bell on my collar with a silver tone. Another comes over, asks my Master a question, and she grinningly grants him permission.

A twist of a button and my skirt falls to the floor, the slow slide around my hips and arse just slow enough to build anticipation. The rounded cushion soon impressed by his hands, and I gasp as he pulls me close, his bulge rubbing against the crotch of my panties, and I feel the delightful damp slicken inside me. My Master pulls me away (jealously?), to lean against her chest, rubbing herself on the velvet fur of my back, the vibration of my pleasure.

My top is already pulled up, but a quick tug removes it entirely, my Master offering a fine sight to the guest, and he licks his lips as he drinks me in. My boobs are framed by her hands as she smooths out the ruffles from my shirt's passage, leaving me sleek. He grips my arse even tighter in his awakened excitement, and his fingers tease at the base of my tail.

They talk above my head, commenting on the best places to grope and rub on me. Digits dance down my limbs, fingers spread my mouth, slide a familiar ring gag into place to keep the hard teeth (and my own irrelevant commentary) away from the softness of my tongue and throat. The plush of my butt and bust are squished and complimented, the roundness deformed in hungry grasp. Then I squeak in surprise as my Masters' hand pushes into the only modesty I have left, promising that behind my panties is the truly best spot. The slick on her fingers denies any refusal I might make, and as she slips my underwear away, she talks of the joy of my cunt, the lightning delight of my soft folds when they rub against hers, and his hardening cock shows his interest. I know that stiffness will go so well with my softness, and whine, but they have preparations they wish to make first.

My arms bound together across my chest, giving me the same delight of texture I've given them. My Master guides me down, to lie back on the bed, and my knees are bend and bound as well, a criss-cross of ropes that holds my legs spread wide for him. He climbs between them, as my Master presses herself against my face, and I'm shot through with pleasure, from my spread crotch to the tip of my tongue as they together delight in me, and I delight in their desire.

An MPregged Pony

Contains muscular anthro horse, mpreg.

 I'm a stallion, that's undeniable. A picture of sculpted muscle, lightly covered (but not concealed) by soft horsehair in pretty dapples. One could even say I was studly, but I'm clearly no stud, thanks to a detail that indicates a far different role: the not-inconsiderable bulge of my cock dwarfed beneath the broad swell of my pregnancy. I am aglow with the flush of new life, a proud father, unburdened even as I cradle my foals’ weight. Soon, I'll birth them, but I don't think it'll be long before I'm swelling again.

Genderfucked Furries

Contains furries (horse & wolf primary, dragon mentioned), nb/nb sex (both masc +vag -cock), mentioned many/nb sex, non/dubcon sex, noncon genderfuckery transformation (male->nb + mentioned fem nb-> fem), sexual heat, bondage, use of the word 'bitch'

Heed the warnings above! 18+ only

  The horseboy is tied down, spread-eagled, equine muscle unable to escape the leather holding him there, so vulnerable. Quite the situation, one he wouldn't have chosen, especially with the fat cock between his legs now replaced by a hot, empty hole. But a quandary is presented by the wolfboy atop him, free, one hand caressing the muscled chest of the not-quite-stallion, the other fingering his own cunt as he whispers to the prisoner, a gag stopping any counterargument as he promises pleasure beyond imagining, how a hard fucking will make him forget his cock, that his hard muscle and soft slit make him a perfect toy, how good it feels to be filled with warmth, and it's hard for the poor horse to disagree as a heat begins to rise, a desperate need that was until so recently so, so alien.

He gasps as the wolf's legs slide apart, lowering his body until their clits kiss, the wave of pleasure barely given time to crest before its followed by another as the canine begins to grind, letting out low chuffs as he does. His words take more the shape of barks as his breath quickens.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Being bred like a bitch is even better!"

The scent of their juices fills the room as arousal builds. Not that the wolf needed much work, as well-established as that foundation was, as he continues to elaborate.

"It's so hot doing this, taking cocky...heh... studs and watching those big dicks shrink away forever!" He bends down to kiss the horse, "You were so cute as you squirted away your last seed! And you looked like you might cry when your balls vanished...wouldn't be the first one." he chuckles with the memories. "So much complaining! Some beg, others bargain. But then there's the bliss as they realise what they've gained!" The horse struggles a bit, his objections made incoherent by the gag, and left belied by the interruptions from his own biology.

"You'll get there!" the wolf chirps "You all do, even if it takes a while! You're all unique! The last one, a dragoness I knew, she hoarded fucked sexpets. Still does, I suppose, but they've got the cocks now! Loaned some to help break you in too! Isn't that generous? In fact..."

Sharp ears twitch. The door flies open, disgorging a crowd of furries, and the two look up, the horse blushing in embarrassment, the wolf flushing with anticipation. The wolf's hand slides down the equine's chest, coming to rest on his lower lips.

"Come on, ladies and gentlemen, we're both ready!" the wolf calls, panting out the words as he spreads both pussies in invitation. The horse shakes his head in denial, but his slickening cunt suggests he's far more in denial. Certainly, the many cocks in the room are taking that answer as their owners push forwards, ready to fill the pair to overflowing, and by the time they're done, both men will never want to be empty again.

A Curvaceous Creature

Female anthro dragon. Contains discussion of oviposition and sterile eggs.

I’m a dragoness. Tall and curvy. Broad hips that complement a fat arse, its globes matched in size by the breasts above them. Scarlet scales near-bare to the world, covered by nothing but the finest gold, carefully framing every inch of my perfect shape. Emerald eyes brighter than the gem, shining in the shadow of wings that blaze from the sun’s backlight. Sweeping horns and scattered nubs, intricately carved and filled with more of the lustrous metal. A fat cunt, dripping and ready, whether for a cock going in or eggs pushing out. The weight of me is significant, my roundness is full of fat and muscle and heavy (sterile) eggs, but I do not let it show, nor hinder; my swollen belly is for me to enjoy.

A Bewitching Bat

I'm slender, but it's hard to see through the fur, so softly fluffy. The fur is dark, a deep rich brown mottled with delicate patterns in true black that swirl across my body. Amber eyes, a rich orange-gold like gems. Nails just sharp enough that the descriptor 'claws' applies, glossy and dark. A long muzzle and longer tongue that flops out when I grin. Ears, tall, upright, sensitive to any touch on that softest of velvet (well, maybe not quite the softest, that's in an even more sensitive place). A thick patch of fur on my chest hides the flat muscle beneath, slim but wiry-strong, built to carry me up on broad wings of warm leather, that can just as easily wrap myself or another about, in the best of blankets. Behind me trails a long tail, thick and muscular, a tricky beast only half-tamed, it reveals what its master might hide, in twitches of excitement and intimate touches against that which I love.

A Subdued Stud

NSFW

Contains dubcon, bondage, gangbang, transformation (male->NB (Masc -penis +vagina)), horse furries, bodywriting, dehumanisation, humiliation, oral, vaginal, kidnapping

There are three horses in the small booth. Well, that depends on your philosophical positioning, given that two of them are images of the third, though there has clearly been some changes.

Let's start with the similiarities, as a good starting point. He's an equine, of course, prettily dappled in grey. Soft horsehair over sleek, solid muscle that'd carry him for quite a while in swift athleticism. Not the sheer bulk of some of the draft-types, but still strong. A long mane made to flow in wind, whether wind of motion or of nature. Blue-green eyes that shine with intelligence, and perhaps a little nervousness? Well, more than a little in the physical beast, but even in the first picture, where his eyes can be seen, there's a hint of the prey about him.

That first picture is quite the show in its way, the stallion's lean form shining in the sun, casually posing in sports garb, the medal in his fist almost as bright as his mane, body and badge both drawing admiring looks from the onlookers. Though his attention is on the camera, his attitude is one that will soon be returning those looks, for man and woman both.

The second picture is more candid, though no less attractive, sprawled out on a bed, asleep in the silver moonlight. He wears nothing but tight briefs that bulge in a way that would shame no few insecure men. His physique is on full display, the muscles exposed to the camera-wielding intruder, and from there to any that pass the booth. A second person can be seen here, though dark clothes hides them in shadow, only the glint of the cuffs in their hands betrays their presence to the sharp-eyed.

And finally, the present stud. Well, maybe not a stud anymore, that bulging cock replaced by a cunt, slick with feminine arousal and masculine seed, dripping from that fucked hole. He might not be cuffed, but he's far more securely restrained, strapped into the tiny space with only the space to strain those pretty muscles and search with those pretty eyes, hoping to find or forge an escape that isn't there. Whimpering whines that mix pleasure and fear and pleasurable fear leak around a ring-gagged mouth, drooling its own cummy fluids to match the horse's pussy. He's even more vulnerable here, his holes positioned for the pleasure of others, though the flush of his body indicates he's taking no small pleasure himself. Those who bothered to comment clearly took note, the scrawled messages defacing his hide taunting the 'slut' for his enjoyment of the processes that lead to every smudged tally on his thighs, every tick on his throat. Whatever he once was, he's broken in now, just a toy for others who take pleasure in the breaking, leaving him with the pictured reminders of what they took, and his own shame at loving what has been done.

A Cocksucking Slut

In an ideal world, I'd be surrounded by himbo furries, all ready to breed me like the agender bugperson slut I am. None of us wear more than tight underwear, or a piece of jewelry that accents us beautifully. My own collar is pulled about, dragging me from man to man. A swirl of hard bodies and changing textures. Fur and scale and feather. The scent of sex and sweat and muscle. Smears of cum that cloud my bright wings. Markers that scrawl, embarrassing truths and tallied acts littering my chitin.

A Bitch’s Dick

nb anthro wolf (fem with masc genitals)/unspecified narrator (has masc genitals), brief nb/f anthro horse

WARNING Contains cock transformation (permancy not specified in story, but my intent was that it’s permanent), dom/sub, musk, oral and anal, knotting, muscles, pred/prey dynamics, dehumanisation, ambiguous consent (it’s my intent that this is entirely consensual, but it’s not confirmed in story).

The wolfwoman towers over me, a perfect blend of hard and soft. Flowing fur over taut muscle, iron arms and pillowy chest, fat cock and fluffy sack. She grins a sharp grin, one that fills me with thrill and fear, and my mouth parts in desire, a drawn breath fills my lungs with her intoxicating scent. Before this great being, I am nothing but prey for the taking, and I love it.

I'd say it's a moment's work to knock me to the mattress, but that implies she must take effort to do so. One moment, I'm standing before her, the next I'm on my back, drowning in her musk, the weight of her pinning me as effectively as a mountain. She bends forwards, and my throat is filled with her tongue, the wet force of her kiss irresistible, but I don't even want to try.

She breaks the kiss eventually, allowing me a moment to breathe. Her hips thrust forwards as she leans back, and her balls are in my face. My response is almost subconscious, my own, weak, tongue snaking out to taste her, and the feral flavour covers it. The desperate, horny worship of my mouth on her genitals does have an impact, the only impact she'll let me have, huffs of pleasure. It seems like an eternity of glorious pleasure for me, that ends when she shifts herself, her cock, harder than ever, replacing the sack. The flavour is different, yet the same, saltier perhaps. I become intimately familiar with every detail, as the glorious sensations wipe out all other thought. The throbbing pleasure I'm giving only her due. The long heaven ending only when she howls in delight, and my face is painted in heavy, white pulses, and I'm drowning under her cum.

This climax earns me a brief reprieve to surface, while she shifts herself, trailing her fur down my body. By the time I've caught my fleeing breath, she's got my hips in her hands, and is still wearing that same predator's grin.

"Ready."

The not-question is the only warning I have before she thrusts forwards, and that fat cock is splitting me open, a painful stretch of complete delight, the alloy of sensation leaving me gasping again, utterly helpless. This time, I'm not a participant, just a toy for her pleasure. She moves in forceful rhythm, her claws gripping and bouncing my body in sync to her pleasure. My oral service was an eternal heaven, but this goes quick, all time crushed by the cock that is the core of me. I might have cum. I might have done so many times. But I don't know, all is lost in the blur. Even through the force, I can feel the vibrations of her growls as she takes what she wants from me.

Her second climax is no less forceful, and again I have little warning of what will come. Only the even greater stretch of her knot, the sudden ending of the motion as I'm locked hard onto her. Then the warm liquid is filling me, bloating me. Leaving me taut and heavy. This seems to finally tire her, as she rolls forwards, still tied to me, and I'm buried beneath her fur and flesh. Lost in the endless softness, pinned by the godlike hardness. All I can hear is her breath and blood. All I can smell is her salt and sweat. She's murmuring half-words, gentle praise.

We lie there, together, like we have so many times. The pain of the stretch lessens, as it always has, but it feels different. It's not a relaxation as her knot deflates, and the pleasure does not diminish, it heightens. Her fur brushes against me, setting my skin aflame, even more sensitive than before. I squirm, but am no looser about her cock. She sits up, and I am carried with her. The taste of salt in my mouth grows stronger as I look up at her, even further than before. She holds me in her arms, strong, as she bends down to kiss me.

Her pulse is strong, and I slowly realise it's mine too. A glance down tells me why. My legs are almost gone, the bright flesh of her cock replacing my own as I shrink. I open my mouth to say something, but the only thing that escapes my throat is cum, her cum. Another throb, and I lose another inch to her. My features are smoothing out, but I can still see her maw as it swallows me, her kisses becoming a blowjob as she pleasures herself, and me, sucking on the cock I'm becoming. A pulse and a cough, and pre spills from my mouth into hers. The only part of me not shrinking is my balls, but not because they're staying mine. Instead, they're growing to match and merge with hers, my own virility, meagre as it was, sacrificed joyously to the greater. My body is emptying, and my mind too. A cock doesn't need worry, or thought. It doesn't need a heart or lungs. Only pleasure and flesh for pleasure. She pulls her head away, pausing to take a breath, but I do not get another look at the outside world. My eyes are long gone, replaced by her. Her knot, distinguishable from before only by its new size, my arse devoured and absorbed by it. My arms are limp, what little of them remains until another pulse swallows them entirely. My body, so sensitive, is quivering under her attention as the last of it becomes cockmeat. Neither of us notice the end of the change, the final moment that I might be considered me. Both of us are lost, rushing towards another moment, the approaching climax that soon comes, fresh, fertile seed spraying across her face and chest.

The wolf lays back onto the bed, her paws idly toying with her cock and balls as she bathes in the afterglow. She feels no need to rush, but eventually gathers herself. Sticky and sweaty from her fun, she goes to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping beneath the warm water. Her cock shivers in warm delight at the touch of the cascade. She scrubs the sticky fluids from her fur, then turns her attention to her genitals. While not sexual, the washing has pleasure of its own, and her cock twitches under the care.

Once clean, the wolf prepares herself for bed, and within minutes is asleep, buried beneath a blanket as soft as her fur, gently rubbing her new cock when she shifts in her sleep, pleasant and warm as it rests with its owner. The next morning, it has a brief time in the sunlight streaming through the windows before she dresses, trapping it beneath the fabric of a jockstrap, turning the keen organ to a fabric bulge, cradled tight against her, even more inescapably buried in her musk and fluff. Her body is flooded with lust and need, her new cock full of promise and desire, but despite that, she leaves it unfulfilled, such things are for later.

A long day of work fills her with tension, but her cock knows nothing of it, for why should it? Simply happy within its prison, drifting moment to hour to moment, its long daze interrupted only by the momentary flushes of stimulation when its owner moves just right, shifting the fabric around it. The first it knows of its owner's fate is much later, when, out at a club, a cute mare seeking attention on the dancefloor succeeds, and her cock stirs in response. Her approach to the horsegirl is swiftly spotted, this is not a hunt of ambush or stealth, and the mix of fear and thrill that fills the prey's expression is familiar, and so delightful. The equine woman's eyes slide down to the impressive bulge between the wolf's legs, and both realise how this ends. There's a ritual, though, a social dance of flattery and pursuit, and it's late when the cock is finally allowed to flop free, rapidly hardening as it is flooded with hormone-laden blood. Its owner draws a deep breath, lupine senses taking in the lusty scent of the mare bent before here, dripping and ready to experience the cock she's been fantasising about all night, and both cock and owner are happy to oblige, filling her as full as any stallion could.