Product Demo

There were many things Weft expected to see at the sex shop: toys, of course, in all shapes and sizes and colors; potions promising all sorts of fantastical effects, priced in proportion to the maker’s repute; lube in bottle sizes ranging from belt-pouch to barrel…

A sawsbuck in full Palkian vestments was not one of them, so Weft was especially surprised to turn the aisle corner and nearly clothesline herself on one. As a braixen, she was only a few inches over three feet (not counting her ears), which put her eyes level with the big deer’s chest and flank. She staggered back a step and craned her neck to stare.

He took up the entire aisle and most of her field of view, his massive bulk covered in short brown fur and supported on legs that seemed far too spindly for the task. His mahogany antlers nearly reached the ceiling, bearing several pink spring flowers (which explained the floral scent tickling Weft’s nose). A paler pink stole was woven through the antlers, draping gracefully across above his head and hanging down on either side, all the way past his chest. Its ends bore the symbol of Palkia: a magenta circle with a stylized specular highlight. The same symbol was emblazoned on the pink sash around his withers and on the panniers he wore over his back.

Weft only realized she was gawking when he noticed her. She shut her mouth and looked away, adjusting her shoulder bag and feeling oddly naked next to the adorned sawsbuck. He leisurely swept his head around to look down at her, the ends of his antler-stole trailing in the air. “Oh, am I in your way?” he said, his voice a rich, congenial baritone. “My apologies.”

“Not at all,” she said. I’m supposed to use his title, right? What is it, again? The braixen couldn’t remember. She didn’t exactly visit temples often. What’s he even doing here? Sure, clerics had a life too, but why wear your full getup to the sex store? Maybe it’s not even his full getup. Maybe he has even more pink things to put on. Is that allowed? Followers of the Three were capable of things many thought impossible, and a complete wardrobe of lurid pink may well have been among them.

She realized the sawsbuck had already stepped aside, making room for her where he’d been standing. Weft took his place to be polite. He’d been browsing the shop’s slim selection of enchanted jewelry, displayed in a glass case locked behind a metal grille for good measure. This was Lower Halcyon, after all. The prices on those items were out of reach of most who lived here. They were certainly out of reach for Weft.

The braixen wasn’t really thinking about them, though. He was still standing next to her. He definitely saw me staring. Weft brushed at her magenta-dyed ear floof, twirling it around her paw; a nervous habit of hers. Reverend, that’s it.

The silence felt increasingly awkward. “I didn’t expect to see someone like you here, Reverend.”

“Why not?” said the sawsbuck, with an amused undertone. “Who do you think enchants these?” He nodded to the display case.

“Uh—” Weft hadn’t considered this before, but in retrospect it seemed obvious. Of course the temples were involved in making stuff like that. There’d be no portal rings without Palkian magic, for instance. “Hm.”

“These aren’t ours, though. And they won’t be, alas; the proprietor says enchantments have low liquidity here, and we don’t want to step on the hooves of the local temple.” He bobbed his neck in a quadruped shrug, the motion rippling down his back. “There’s no need for such styles, by the way,” he continued. “My name is Açaí.”

Does he want mine? Weft glanced up at the sawsbuck; he was looking at her thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on her dyed inner ear fur and especially her pierced ears and nose. (He was trying not to be too obvious about it, but this happened enough she could still tell.) The braixen braced herself for some out-of-pocket comment, already preparing her retort. My fur’s more orange-pecha-y than yellow; the magenta looks great with it, don’t you think? And of course I pierced them. Are you seeing how much ear I have? It’s free real estate, dude. Slaps top of fox this bad bitch can fit so many piercings—

Instead he asked, “Are you Weft?”

Weft blinked. Am I still wearing my nametag from work? she wondered, glancing down at herself to confirm no, she wasn’t. “Uh… Yeah, that’s me,” she said.

“My partner is a big fan of yours.”

“Oh? They are?” Weft did some adult content on the side, but she wasn’t a big name by any means. It was mostly sounding stuff, some cock vore, pretty niche.

Açaí nodded and smiled. “She’s always excited to see other trans women in the space. May I tell her you’re here?”

That made more sense. That was a much smaller pond. “Sure. Is she nearby?”

“Quite.” The sawsbuck lifted a foreleg and held it just so. “Yara dear,” he said, as though on one end of an orb call, “you’ll never guess who I ran into. Come and see.”

This was odd. But it was nothing compared to a big cream-scaled head poking out behind him, a pair of long red antennae and longer red fins trailing from above her eyes. All Weft could do was stare and listen as the milotic slithered several more feet of herself out from under Açaí’s tuft of tail, the sound like slowly pulling your arm out after fisting someone past the elbow.

Weft had never seen a milotic in the flesh before and she’d thought she never would, not in the middle of a desert. The enormous water-type, who must have been Yara, was even more beautiful than Weft had been led to believe. Her scales glistened opalescent, a subtle rainbow shifting within them as she twisted herself around, curling her body to drape herself across the sawsbuck’s back and peer down at the braixen. Her eyes were a deep red, her whole body covered in drops of moisture that sparkled like diamonds. The rest of the world seemed more drab just for being in her presence.

“Oh, blessed be! Is that you, Weft?” Her voice was like the touch of silk, trilling from her rows of gill-slits in triplicate.

The braixen was utterly smitten. She had never believed in love at first sight, but lust was another matter entirely, and Yara had oneshot her so hard she didn’t know how she was still standing. It was rare that Weft’s words failed her, but this was one of those times, not least because she was too busy simping to breathe. Is this what breathtakingly beautiful means? she thought, a dopey grin spreading across her muzzle.

Three, I’m better than this. Inside her head, Weft kicked the useless lesbian part of herself off the controls and ordered her body to (1) breathe before she passed out and (2) grab her skirt-like fur, pale orange against the white of her paws, and curtsy. “Yes, Your Radiance,” she said.

Wait, no. That stupid joke she’d primed had escaped in her daze. What she’d actually said was “Slaps roof of deer this bad boy can fit so much fish in him,” and now she was going to throw herself into the river. Nah, that’d take too long. Weft sized up the nearest row of dildos, judging which ones seemed sharp enough for ritual auto-evisceration. Maybe that bright purple haxorus one—

A musical giggle made her weak in the knees and dragged her gaze back to Yara like her muzzle was on a leash. (Good idea, observed useless-lesbian-Weft from the floor of her mind palace, getting so hard she looked nauseous. Mmrnghnf. I think i hauve—)

“Indeed, isn’t he wonderful?” the milotic said. She leaned her head over towards Açaí, sharing a loving nuzzle and neck-twine with the sawsbuck. “He carries me around in his womb while we’re on land. It’s terribly inconvenient not having, you know…” Yara waved one fin in circles.

“Legs,” Açaí supplied.

“Yes, ‘legs’, exactly. And I help him with my fins!”

“That’s so sweet,” Weft said, feeling like she was about to cry. What a cute T4T couple… Life is worth living after all. She mentally slapped her cheeks. Okay, get your shit together. C’mon. The braixen tried to complete the introduction with some semblance of normality. “I’m Weft, yeah! Pleasure to meet you!” Meeting fans was always a little weird (“Oh, I LOVE seeing you shove stuff down your dick!”) but the middle of a sex store was at least a fitting place for it.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Yara said, reaching out her fins to shake Weft’s paw. Her touch—slick, cool but not cold—nearly sent the vixen to pieces again, but Weft just barely held herself together.

“So, what brings you here, Weft? Picking up something for a new video?” The milotic lifted her head and looked around the store.

“Nah, not unless lube counts,” Weft said, hefting the bottle in her paws and chuckling. “Just that and browsing.”

Yara’s eyes had landed on the jewelry display next to them. She studied the enchanted items with a critical, appraising eye, her expression turning to a slight frown. “Not eyeing one of these, were you?”

“I wish! I’ve always been curious, but that’s way outside my budget.”

The milotic glanced across the store at the cashier—a nidorina who looked thoroughly bored—and lowered her voice anyway. “We have a better selection, if you’d like to see.”

Weft tilted her head. “Like… back at your place?”

Yara giggled again, making Weft’s tail swish on its own accord. “Kind of. My place is right here!” She brought her fins back and patted the sawsbuck’s flank.

Oh… of course. Weft studied the deer. His lower belly did seem a bit swollen, lightly gravid, but there was no way the milotic would fit in there. Not even what was outside him right now would fit, let alone the rest of her, and his belly hadn’t changed in size at all when she emerged. “How does that work?”

“I can show you,” Yara said, beaming. “May I, dear?”

“Of course.” Açaí shuffled in place, turning to face away from Weft and presenting his rump to her. “You know you can have friends over whenever you like.”

The braixen stared at him, or rather at his ass, right in front of her. The lighter brown of his underbelly extended all the way to his short tail, its brown fluff covering his tailhole. Right beneath that, his slit was spread enormously wide, a hint of pink wrapped tight around the milotic’s girth.

She was going to say something, but then Yara retracted herself, sliding foot after iridescent foot back into the sawsbuck’s nethers until she was just a head and a couple feet of neck. His folds stayed slightly gaped as her neck narrowed, taking a few seconds to close back up around her. And of course his belly didn’t change size at all.

The slick squishing made Weft’s ears twitch. How the fuck is he gaped like that and not even reacting? He just took my entire height of milotic into his puss without even a peep. He probably has tons of practice… How does he get off…?

She didn’t get to imagine too much because Yara was staring right at her, expectant. “Ready?” the milotic asked.

“Uh wait hold on,” Weft said, trying to slow things down. It was only just sinking in that the sawsbuck was about to take her entire height of her. “How do we do this? Should I like… reach my arms in first?”

Yara smiled. “Just put your stuff down. I’ll handle the rest!” She gestured her fins towards Weft’s shoulder bag and the bottle of lube she was carrying.

“I’ll watch it for you,” her partner rumbled.

I guess this is happening. The braixen complied, setting both bag and bottle down by Açaí’s hooves. “All right,” she said. “Now what?”

“Now just relax!” The milotic leaned in close, her scales almost touching the vixen’s forehead.

The proximity made relaxing nearly impossible. Weft felt her whole body stiffen up instead. She stared into Yara’s eyes, so close they were just blurry blobs of red, and shivered. The braixen tried to do as instructed and relax, though a certain part of her only got stiffer instead.

Yara wrapped her red fins under Weft’s arms, the delicate appendages gripping far more firmly than the braixen expected. Then she pulled back, diving into the sawsbuck in reverse and pulling Weft with her under Açaí’s fluffy tuft of tail. Weft’s vision filled with sawsbuck rump before she plunged headfirst into his milotic-gaped slit, dragged bodily up through his tunnel and beyond. It only lasted a moment, a slick and squeezing passage; it felt more like it was moving over her rather than her moving through it. Her head was already emerging into his womb before her hindpaws had entered his slit.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. It was spacious within him, as big as the shop she’d just been standing in and nearly as cluttered. Several crystal lamps bounced soft-white light off the glistening pink walls, illuminating the whole space with a warm glow. It was almost more warehouse than womb, though its true nature was undeniable: the warm and humid air, the way the floor squished underpaw, the subtle shifting of the curved fleshy walls, and of course the sawsbuck’s distant heartbeat all served as reminders that they were ensconced within his body.

As soon as Weft found her footing—it was a bit like walking on sand, if sand were slippery—Yara gave her a little tour, slithering around effortlessly on the womb floor. Here was where she slept, stacked against the wall were all their supplies, at the back was a shrine to the Original One, its golden arcs and spokes glistening with intimate moisture…

The tour had ended at the cluttered tables that comprised Yara’s workshop, where the milotic had just breezily brushed over various enchanted rings and amulets and chains. The kind you’d find at a real esoteric and much higher-end sex shop than the one outside.

So many things had happened that Weft’s head was spinning. Or maybe that was the intensely floral aroma of the sawsbuck’s womb. She stared at the rings Yara was indicating with her fins, tried to recall what the milotic had just said, and failed. “So what do these cockrings do again?”

“You can wear one one way for partner compatibility,” the milotic repeated cheerfully. “For instance, I don’t want to presume anything, but I imagine you’ve had problems fitting into your partners with that.” She gestured at the vixen’s waist.

“Uh?” Weft looked down and nearly flinched. Her red-pink shaft had pushed aside her long skirt-like hip fur and now throbbed in front of her at its full impressive size. It reached to the middle of her chest, over a foot of veined, twitching fox cock, knot still bulging her sheath. She hadn’t even noticed it slipping out, too distracted by the tour and heady atmosphere. The braixen reached to cover herself—not that her arms would do a good job—and gave up halfway. If she’s a fan, she’s seen this before.

“Apologies if I’ve presumed too much,” Yara said, when Weft remained dazedly silent. “It’s something pokémon my size struggle with especially. I thought, perhaps, you too?”

Oh right, she asked a question. Kind of. “No no, it’s true,” she said. “But it’s all right. It’s fun to top someone way bigger than me, and for people my size, we make do. I let ‘em fuck it or fist it if they want. Small friends too.” Weft grinned. “Though for them, I can usually fit more than just their dick.”

“Much the same for me,” the milotic said. She hummed, the sound fluting from her gill-holes. “Did you hatch that way? Now I’m really prying.”

“You also pulled me into your partner’s womb, so all bets are off,” the braixen said. “Nah. It’s from an ERT rebound.” When she’d evolved, she’d planned to use the metamorphosis to change her bits around. She almost had, but got cold paws and changed her mind midway, reversing the changes and then some. Weft didn’t bother explaining this. She had a feeling Yara understood.

“Ah.” Indeed, the milotic gave a knowing smile. “Well, it’s a lovely cock. I hope you’re enjoying having kept it.”

“Oh yes. Might still get rid of it when I evolve again, but for now I quite like it.” Weft stroked a paw along her length, feeling it twitch under her pawpads and relishing it.

She glanced back over the table in front of her, recalling the conversation before they’d gone on this tangent. “So, how does one of these rings help, exactly?”

“You put it on and it makes you smaller! Your dick, to dispense with the synecdoche.” Yara beamed at her. “Of course it isn’t actually shrinking per se, it’s space compression.”

“Seems like a tough sell. Usually people get potions for the opposite,” Weft joked.

“And then they end up same as us, with a dick too big to fuck anyone with!” Yara shook her head. “As you said, there’s still plenty of things you can do with one, but sometimes you really crave penetration and that’s what the ring is for. If you really need it, it can make you bigger too, with less side effects than a potion. Or, as an alternative, it can be worn by the receiving partner to increase their capacity.”

“Worn… on their cock?” The vixen tilted her head.

“If that’s where you want to fuck them! Or around the waist or neck, depending on what hole’s your goal. It stretches.” The milotic saw Weft’s raised eyebrows and waved a dismissive fin. “Yes, that’s better suited for a different form factor, like a dedicated belt or girdle. We make those too. This one is a cockring. It’s for cocks. I just wanted to mention the versatility.”

This was a lot to take in. Ideas were bubbling up in Weft’s mind; it was a shame there was no way she could afford one of these. Still, her curiosity had been piqued. “How does the capacity part work on a cock…?” she asked, losing the nerve to say “my cock”.

“Would you like a demonstration?” Yara picked up the ring in her fins and swerved her sinuous body closer, holding the shiny gold band out towards the braixen’s pointed, twitching tip.

Weft thought she’d found her conversational footing, but that yanked it right out from under her. “Uh—I—” For the second time today, the braixen found herself at a loss. Everything had been moving so fast. She’d just been visiting the sex shop to buy more lube and browse; she hadn’t expected to encounter a pair like this. Then at least four more impossible things had happened since. Maybe more.

Speaking of which, actually: “Wait, in here? I thought those sort of space-altering enchantments didn’t work if you nested them.”

“Oh yes, usually so,” Yara agreed. “But my dear Açaí is hardly a usual case.” She lifted her tail, stroking the fan of fins at the tip against the ceiling and down the nearest wall. The flesh quivered at her touch.

“So… what you’re saying is basically… skill issue?”

The milotic giggled. Weft fell even harder for her. (She loved that trilling, musical sound so much.) “Indeed,” Yara said. “Skill issue.”

Weft finally caught hold of her nerves. She grinned. “Yeah, I’d love a demonstration. Your partner doesn’t mind?”

Yara giggled more; Weft nearly swooned. “This is what he expected when I invited you in, dear. He’ll probably tease us about how long we took to start fucking.”

“R-Right, yeah.” Wow, I’m a mess. The braixen would never have guessed one of her weaknesses was fish. Long, huge, impossibly elegant and beautiful fish. She chuckled. A joke commandeered the direct line to her mouth before she could stop it. “I know I’m weak to water, but this is ridiculous.” Oh that was terrible.

The milotic rewarded her with more wonderful laughter. “I have that effect on people,” she said, slithering forward and gently nudging at Weft, herding her towards a more open space. “But I’m even worse. I’m supposed to resist fire, aren’t I? Yet from the moment I saw you, I’ve been head over fins.”

“Haha, yeah,” Weft said, distracted by fighting for her life in her mind palace. She clashed knitting needles like swords with useless-lesbian-Weft, who was definitely just going to say “Mommy? Sorry. Mommy?” seventeen times in a row if she got the chance.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while; what incredible luck that I get to meet you in person!” Yara slithered the rest of her body closer, arranging it into loose loops and coils. “You’re beautiful, you know? And clever, and witty…”

The braixen currently felt like none of those things but nodded anyway, trying to keep from drooling.

It didn’t help when Yara leaned closer. Both Weft and UL-Weft froze, staring up at her, transfixed. “Are you nervous?” the milotic said, her voice hissing out of her gills in a breathy whisper. “Don’t be.” She moved her head closer, past Weft’s, putting her gills next to the braixen’s ear. “I want this to be fun for both of us,” she breathed. “Are you ready, slutphox69?”

Weft choked. Nothing could have prepared her for hearing her stupid-ass username on the lips (gills?) of the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. The tension shattered and she burst out laughing, going until she was out of breath and then some, wheezing and gasping deep gulps of the heady air. If Yara hadn’t looped herself behind her, she would have collapsed.

“Holy fuck,” she said. “Er, sorry?”

“No, that’s exactly right,” Yara said, eyes twinkling. “A sacred space like this permits only the holiest of fucks.”

“Fantastic. Holy fuck, then.” The braixen shook her head. “That got me good.”

“I hope it put you more at ease. Ready for real, this time?”

“As long as you promise to only moan my actual name, yeah.”

The milotic hummed in contemplation, like she was really thinking it over. “All right. I promise,” she said, smiling. She leaned down to study and admire the vixen’s shaft, slightly drooped after all their shenanigans. A gentle touch with her snout was all it took coaxed a squeak from Weft and the red pillar back to full throbbing readiness. “Let’s see how this looks on you.”

Yara reached out and lowered the golden ring over Weft’s shaft, all the way down to the braixen’s bulging sheath. She nudged the black-furred pouch until it slipped back, releasing Weft’s knot into the warm and humid air. Ordinarily, the vixen’s potent musk would fill the air, but here Weft barely caught whiffs of it, her scent lost in the sawsbuck’s womb.

The milotic was trying to breathe in as much as she could anyway. “Such a treasure you’re hiding,” she said, her silken voice slightly husky. She nestled the ring there, beneath Weft’s knot-bulbs. “There… one treasure for another.”

The ring contracted, fitting itself snugly to the base of the braixen’s cock. Not too tight, not too loose; it fit perfectly. It felt warm against her skin, the warmth growing into a tingling that swept through the base of the vixen’s shaft and down into her sack, like gentle pins and needles.

Weft groaned. The milotic’s teasing voice and the touch of her fins had been bad enough, but the tingling rush of sensation was so overwhelming Weft felt she might faint on the spot. Well, cum first, then faint. She shuddered all over; her legs buckled and she fell back, right onto supportive loops of milotic that Yara had slid into place without her noticing. The braixen sprawled against them, one underneath her rump and one against her back, keeping her in a sort of reclined sitting position while she weathered the storm.

It probably didn’t last very long, but Weft was in no state to tell. She was still reeling a while after the tingling passed, taking deep, panting breaths of fragrant air while the milotic swam back into focus above her. Eventually she realized it was over and sat up.

She didn’t feel any different. Or, maybe she did? It was hard to tell; she couldn’t remember how she felt before, only how she felt during the overwhelming tingling. Weft groped at her nuts with one paw, her familiar orbs as hefty and slightly squishy as ever, but also a bit tender. She winced and kneaded at them; her balls were too big to fit in her paw, so she swapped it from one to the other and back, rubbing in circles over each one. The tenderness faded quickly, and Weft sighed in relief.

She looked up and realized Yara had been watching her intently. At this point her arousal firmly outweighed any lingering uncertainty or shame. Weft grinned and spread her legs wider, letting her tongue loll over her lower jaw for effect before she spoke. “Enjoying the show?”

“Very much so, yes,” the milotic said.

“So… what did that do to my nuts? Are they bigger?”

“May I show you?”

Show me how? “Is there something we can put in them…?” Weft glanced around, but she’d been herded away from the tables and supplies.

“I can think of something,” Yara said, curling her long red fins around to point back towards herself.

It took Weft an embarrassingly long few seconds to get it. Then her jaw dropped and she stared at the milotic in shock. Milotic were huge, and Yara seemed big even for her species. She tried to estimate Yara’s length, following the tangle of coils draped over themselves, all the way down until the scales turned resplendent blue and red. She had no idea. Easily twenty feet, maybe thirty? (Yara was giggling at her reaction, which was not making Weft any less down horrendous for her.) The milotic could trivially make a snack of her and she would probably barely make a bulge. No, she amended, she would definitely make a bulge… Yara’s body peaked at a foot and a half, maybe two feet in diameter?

There was just no way she’d fit. “There’s no way you’ll fit,” Weft said.

“Not with that attitude.”

“No, seriously. Even if that ring did something wild to my balls, I’ve never taken anything as big as you. Like, as wide. As much as I’d like to…”

“Have you tried? You might surprise yourself,” Yara said. She leaned in without waiting for Weft’s reply, reaching for the golden ring with her fins. “But this is solvable.”

The braixen shuddered at the touch, expecting to feel a surge, a rush as her cock grew. Which it did, several inches longer, half again as big as before, but it was weird how much it didn’t feel like anything. There was more sensation from the still, humid air against her twitching vixenflesh than there was from her shaft gaining six inches of length. Which made a certain kind of sense, she supposed, as it wasn’t truly changing, just the space around it distorting? Or something? This was way over her head.

Thoughts like “touch dick good” were more her speed right now. Weft gripped at her cock with both paws, finding it too thick to wrap them around herself. The tip was twitching up near the end of her snout; it was big enough she could hug it like a bodypillow, albeit an understuffed one.

Fortunately, the stuffing was right there and quite enthusiastic. Yara leaned in close, reaching her dexterous fins to wrap around the shaft and caress at the braixen’s pointed tip. She teased at it, brushing with her fins and smearing them with the copious precum welling up from within. The clear fluid was slick and clingy, stretching between fin and cock in long strands before breaking.

Weft sniffed the air, picking up whiffs of her own sweet-scented pre. She loved her own scent, she loved the attention, and she loved that this gorgeous fish was so eager to dive into her, impossible as it seemed. She stroked herself, coaxing out more throbs of precum for her prospective guest. “Can you really…?” she said.

The milotic just smiled and pressed her nose to Weft’s cock, nuzzling at the vixen’s gaping cumslit. She pressed firmer, still nuzzling, slicking herself up. She hummed, the musical sound causing a gentle vibration, a soft thrumming that made Weft shiver. “Brace yourself,” she said. Then she pushed.

A loud shlrk rang out, though the soft womb walls absorbed it with hardly any echo. Weft saw stars. Her shaft throbbed, bulging around most of the milotic’s head. She felt Yara under her paw, groping at the distended underside of her cock, the shapes beneath the stretched flesh of her urethra. The braixen slumped back against the milotic’s supportive coils, sprawling there, bracing herself with her other arm. She clutched at the smooth scales under her paw, trying to grip them, her blunt claws slipping right off.

The pressure in her shaft increased again. With most of Yara’s head already inside, there was not nearly as much resistance; the milotic slid an inch lower, then another inch. The vixen’s knot was the only real obstacle left, and Yara was nosing at its tightness, pressing firmer and firmer.

Weft pulled her paw from her shaft and grabbed at the loop of milotic behind her with both arms spread, bracing herself both mentally and physically. Another lewd squishy slrch filled her ears, another wave of pleasure rolling over her as Yara squeezed her head through her knot. She had been wondering about the cockring below—how was Yara going to get through it?—but she needn’t have worried, because the enchanted jewelry just stretched along with her flesh, allowing the milotic to push right through.

Weft felt her nuzzling deeper, through her inner tubing, and then the unmistakable sensation of the milotic’s head breaching into her sack. It should have bloated her nuts dramatically; the braixen’s balls were each too big to fit in her paw, and Yara’s head was twice as big as that, easy. Yet instead nothing happened.

“Oh fuck,” she panted. She reached down to fondle herself, digging her paw into her furry sack and feeling around, searching like she would for a billiard ball or her ribombee roommate. But she found nothing. The milotic’s whole head was in her nuts and there was no sign of it; the ring had done something wild to her balls. Weft shuddered in pleasure at the idea, her cock twitching and throbbing greedily to try and claim more of the fish. It accomplished nothing at all—Yara outweighed her by at least a factor of thirty—but it felt so good to squeeze around that smooth, scaly neck. She thought she felt Yara giggling, too.

Yara pressed herself deeper, bracing against her own coiled body to push. Several more inches slid into Weft’s spread cock, her fine scales making the journey smooth and easy. It was much less overwhelming than the feeling of her head, just a gentle warm rush of pleasure, little waves that lapped at the vixen’s mind and made her sigh.

Then something pressed at Weft’s paw from inside her balls. Oh. I was looking too low. She moved it aside, allowing her nuts to bulge, to distend from within. Yara nuzzled at the wall of her sack, licking at it, her snout gently tenting the musky, furry surface. It was not a big bulge. Maybe a bit bigger than that little salandit’s snout when he’d nuzzled out from her nuts, just like this.

“H-Hey Yara,” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice from quavering from pleasure. “How is it? Can you hear me?” She perked her huge ears, angling them to listen. Normally she could hear people inside her just fine, but she had no idea if this Palkian magic would affect it…

“Perfectly clearly,” came the reply, a little quieter and more distant than usual but still audible. “Everything seems to be in order… nice and roomy. And delectable.” She felt another lick—really more of a slurp—as Yara cleaned the cum off the inside of her sack.

“Amazing…” Weft brought her paw back, rubbing at the milotic’s nose and squishing the lump back into her orbs. “Fuck, I want to sack you so bad.” She shuddered and clenched, cock throbbing and trying to lift closer to her body while it rippled around the milotic to pull her down. It failed on both counts, the braixen’s muscles straining uselessly against the massive fish.

“I can tell,” Yara said, muffled within her balls. “What a lovely hug! Let me help you out.”

Weft would have said something sassy about her cock’s squeeze being called “a lovely hug”, but then the milotic wriggled and resumed pushing herself in and all she could do was flop back and pant. Sometimes she managed to moan instead of panting.

Smooth, fine scales brushed against the inner walls of her shaft, already slick from the womb surrounding them both. They slid in much easier than Weft expected, and almost entirely under Yara’s own power. The braixen couldn’t tell if her throbs and clenches accomplished anything besides a rush of pleasure, but that was a good enough reason to keep doing them all by itself. She also couldn’t tell how much was sliding into her; there was always more cream-scaled milotic, gradually getting thicker inch after slithering inch.

Early on, the occasional touches from inside her sack became a constant presence. Yara must have been coiling herself into loops to stay compact, but even so she ran out of room and the braixen’s balls began to stretch. This only added to the pleasure Weft was drifting on, the increasing feeling of fullness as every foot of milotic swelled her sack just a little further.

Every foot stretched her cock wider too, pushing her limits even with her magically enhanced size. Weft was distantly glad Yara was pushing herself in, because she couldn’t have managed to keep doing this, even if her muscles had been capable of it. Or maybe the milotic was pulling now, braced against the inside of her sack. She couldn’t focus enough to tell. The constant stimulation was just too overwhelming.

Eventually she passed some critical point and Yara’s body began getting thinner again. Weft had no idea how many feet of milotic had slid into her cock, but as the overwhelming feeling receded, she noticed the coils supporting her had shifted and begun to pull away. Even now they were abandoning her, tipping the braixen further and further back until she was lying on the soft and squishy womb floor.

She didn’t mind. It was comfy there, like a cushy foam mattress, and warm enough she didn’t mind her fur getting soaked instead of just damp. Her cock flopped down atop her, lying across her belly and chest and resting next to her muzzle, bulging with the girth of the milotic’s tail end. Weft hugged it, a dopey smile spreading across her face. It really was a bodypillow.

The braixen stayed there, listening to the quiet shlick of scales slipping into her shaft. It was all she could do to hold still; she wanted to paw off so bad, but from experience she knew she had to wait until she was done… until Yara was done feeding herself in. Even though her balls felt so full and pent up, stretched and distended; even though Yara squirmed now and then to arrange herself, coiling up inside, rubbing her long body all over Weft’s taut sack walls.

Weft only noticed that progress had stopped when it became easier to resist the urge. Her first first thought—when the pleasure faded enough for her to have one—was that she’d done it, she’d sacked the entire milotic. A brief survey of her body proved that false, finding her cock still stuffed with the fish from base to tip. Much less stuffed than earlier, though; not as good for hugging.

She realized Yara had said something to her. She’d completely missed it. “Huh?”

The milotic giggled again. “I said, how do I look?”

“Uhh… I don’t know,” Weft said, truthfully, staring up at the fleshy pink ceiling overhead. A few seconds later she remembered she could move. ”…Let me look.”

The braixen slowly pushed herself up, paws sinking into the cushy wombflesh beneath her. It squished in an inch, then another as she put her weight on it, soaking her paw fur. (Not just her weight, but that of the milotic in her shaft, too.) Once she was sitting upright, she looked at herself. Her jaw dropped.

Just as she’d felt, her swollen balls had forced her legs apart. They sprawled out before her, reaching past her ankles, black-furred flesh stretched over the coils of the milotic within. And Yara’s blue and red scaled tail was still sticking out of her cock, several feet of fish left before her beautiful tailfins. Several feet of milotic… the rest of whom was tucked into her stuffed sack. Almost thirty feet of her. Weft shuddered and gripped at her legs so she didn’t paw off.

“Hmmm…?” Yara prompted.

Right. Question. “Fuck,” she breathed. “You look amazing. I can’t… that’s nearly all of you in there…” Weft felt silly for a moment for saying something so obvious, then got too horny to care. “Nearly all of you, inside me… that’s incredible…”

“Isn’t it?” The milotic giggled. Weft felt the sound against the taut walls of her sack. “What about this part of me?”

Something warm and wet flopped atop the braixen’s forehead and between her ears. It curled around her right one, exploring the outer edge up towards its apex and leaving warmth and slickness in its wake. It found the pair of rings piercing Weft’s outer helix and prodded them curiously, playfully.

Weft crossed her eyes to look at it, seeing only a blurry mess of pink. She grabbed it in both paws—squishy yet firm, pulsing in her grip—and lifted it away. Oh. “Oh, this part?” she said, hefting Yara’s long, tapered shaft. It wasn’t a good angle for estimating, but it seemed nearly as tall as she was.

“Mhmm,” Yara replied.

“Even lovelier than the rest of you!” The cock twisted itself around her arm, squeezing and grinding it against the braixen’s fur. “Needy, isn’t it? Let’s get it some proper attention.”

Weft held Yara’s shaft at arm’s length, tipping her own cock forward in the process. She shuffled forward, crawling over her own distended sack until she could rest on her knees, letting her dick flop down in front of her. It splatted against the cushy womb floor and the vixen groaned, fighting against the urge to hump into the slick and squishy flesh.

The milotic’s dick bapped her on the snout. Right. Yes. That had been the point of repositioning herself, to get easy access to Yara, whose shaft was now sticking into the air in front of her. She grabbed it with both paws and began to stroke, unsure how else to approach the massive shaft. It was tapered, its tip waving in the air as her strokes sent ripples through its length…

Weft snatched the tip out of the air, slurping it into her mouth. She moved one paw up to stroke nearer to the tip, keeping one down by the base, and began bobbing her head over it. Her long vulpine muzzle meant plenty of room for movement even before her throat got involved, and she had a lot of practice using it.

“Oh?! Ahn—that’s lovely,” Yara panted, trailing off into moans.

That was a good sign. Weft kept her efforts up, though she nearly choked as Yara’s cock quested blindly forward, shoving itself at the back of her mouth. Weft took a deep breath and swallowed for it. The slick tapered length slid in deep; the braixen leaned forward to take more of it until her jaw ached, her neck bulging all the way to the fluff above her sternum. That got even more moans, which only got louder as she started to lean back and forth, stroking firmly and throatfucking herself with a cock larger than her leg.

It wasn’t easy. Her eyes were watering and she missed the feeling of breathing, but then she heard that silken voice gasp out her name in ecstasy and she could do anything. Breathing was for chumps. (The feeling of Yara squirming against the tight walls of her sack also helped.) Weft concentrated all her efforts on cocksucking; she’d taken half of it, maybe a little more. Her focus narrowed; it was just her and the throbbing length in her throat, Yara’s twitching cock, spasming against her swallows.

The milotic shuddered inside her. Heat gushed into Weft’s belly before she realized what was happening, a copious amount of seed flooding her stomach. The second spurt filled her belly completely, the third one bloating it outward. By then she was trying to pull off, and only half the fourth fired down her throat; the rest filled her mouth and splattered over her face. She gulped it down despite her stomach’s protests and aimed Yara’s cock somewhere that wasn’t her face while she gasped for breath.

Once she’d taken several lungfuls of air and her vision cleared, she found she’d pointed the milotic at her chest and was now painted with seed, her pale orange fur hidden under off-white. Water-types… Oh well. That was a problem for future Weft.

She let Yara’s cock go and flopped down on her side, watching it spurt some more half-hearted cumshots across the womb floor. “How’s that?” she asked. “I think I can skip lunch now…”

Her ears perked to catch the milotic’s quick breathing. “That was,” Yara started, needing to pause to properly catch her breath. “I meant to warn you, but I—how did you get me so deep?!”

“Lots of practice,” Weft said, which was true. “My turn, now?”

“Oh, absolutely. Give me a minute, and I can pull the rest of myself—”

“No, no. I want to do the rest.”

She felt Yara laugh in the middle of panting. “You’re welcome to, if you can,” she said. “What’d you say? ‘Nearly all of me’?” A note of teasing smugness crept into the milotic’s voice. “Think you can make it really all of me?”

Weft stared at the golden shrine across the womb from her, its four spokes and two arcs glittering in the soft light of glowing, polished crystals. Will she go for this? She rolled the dice. “With the Original One as my witness, I’ll try,” she declared.

Yara went into a giggling fit, which was good enough.

The braixen reached for herself, grasping her enhanced shaft in both paws. Weft shuddered and started to stroke her length, feeling it throb under her pawpads. Yara’s tail bulged the underside, stretching her urethra wide; it was so smooth, she wasn’t sure she could even clench it in. But she was sure going to try.

She groaned as she flexed, gripping her cock, feeling it throb and squeeze around the milotic. It rippled and kneaded, the slight taper of the tail letting her work a little deeper. Three more inches of beautiful scales slid into her needy, eager cock, and three more inches slid past her base, into her nuts with the rest of Yara.

“Ooh, fuck, that’s… it’s never felt so good to make so little progress,” Weft panted.

“But you made progress,” Yara said, with audible surprise that made Weft smirk.

The vixen took a moment to recover, then flexed again. And again. She was going to claim the whole milotic; she had to, had to pack every gorgeous inch of the fish into her balls. She was so close: only a few more feet and the tail was getting thinner with each inch, her clenches making more and more progress. Yara’s softening cock posed no obstacle, easily folding back against the fish’s tail as it slid into her tip.

She had to pause whenever Yara squirmed and rearranged herself, her sack wobbling and shapes shifting under her fur, stretched taut like a tent. It was all Weft could do to hold back her climax at times like that, keeping her paws off her shaft as it throbbed and twitched of its own accord, greedily slurping down more inches of tail all on its own. The slick and squishy noises from her nuts made her ears twitch, imagining Yara wriggling in a bath of her seed…

Those thoughts didn’t help her hold back at all. Fortunately she got distracted, wondering exactly how much cum there was inside her. Was the milotic bathing in a pool of it? Or was it more like a little puddle? If the ring only expanded (compressed?) the space, then it’d be the second one, wouldn’t it…?

Before she thought to just ask Yara, she saw the milotic’s tailfin approach her tip, the last of the fish that remained outside her. Weft reached out to stroke at it, running her slick paws over the splendid petal-like fins.

“Ready?” Weft asked. Her usual teases felt so inappropriate here, but maybe that made them even better. “Ready to be all mine?” She felt a rush at saying that. Even though the milotic had done almost all the work, had facilitated it in the first place, could trivially push her way out…

“Mmff,” Yara hummed, sounding like she had her mouth full. “Mmhm…” There was a pleading tone to it, or at least Weft thought so.

It was all the braixen needed to hear. She stroked her shaft and flexed, the ripple squeezing at the tail and pulling it down, folding the fanned fins together as they got slurped up. The last of the milotic was just a bulge in her cock, one that sank lower with every throb. Weft held her paw to it as it reached her knot, feeling her urethra stretch around the fins… and feeling it relax, shrinking back to normal as they passed through. She closed her eyes, mentally tracing the feeling of the fins as they sank through her body until they squeezed into her sack.

It didn’t feel like much. If anything, it felt like the absence of feeling, her cock and inner tubing finally able to relax after being stretched around the milotic for who knew how long. But Weft was ecstatic regardless. She’d done it. The entire milotic, crammed into her nuts, probably sucking herself off judging from those muffled noises.

Weft starting pawing off immediately. She wanted to fondle at her bulging sack so badly, but couldn’t bear to spare a paw from stroking herself. Her legs would have to do. The braixen lifted them up and squished them against her distended nuts, feeling the milotic wriggle within. It felt so good it interrupted her stroking, the vixen just holding her paws on her cock in a daze until she remembered what she was doing a few seconds later.

She was so close, so pent up, she knew it wouldn’t take long. What would happen? Would she launch a thirty foot snake from her cock in the biggest cumshot of all time? She let her imagination run wild, arching her back against the squishy floor, filling the chamber with her squeaky pants and moans.

Something spread her depths, a bulge pushing up her dick and forcing her paws away. For a moment Weft thought she’d cum without realizing it. Then Yara’s head slid from her tip, her cock collapsing against her chest from the milotic’s weight. Weft grunted, almost winded.

“Having fun there?” the milotic said. She slithered more of herself out, enough to lift her head and peer down at Weft lying on her back.

“Fuck…” Weft panted. “Get… back in there,” she groaned, “until I… cum you out.” She clenched her cock and her paws (all four of them), her strongest flex yet rippling around the milotic. Yara lurched, several inches of her form dragged back inside the vixen’s greedy shaft.

“Mm, possessive,” Yara murmured, fluttering her eyes. She seemed amused about something, but Weft didn’t know what and didn’t care.

She had to have her. Weft’s next grunting clench was even stronger and accomplished nothing at all, besides giving Yara another lovely hug. The milotic had simply braced herself within, effortlessly resisting the braixen’s muscles.

“No, fair,” Weft panted, before Yara pressed their snouts together and kissed her. It wasn’t the kind of kiss Weft had expected, but in retrospect maybe she should’ve, given their size difference: it was exactly the kind of kiss she gave to her smaller partners, the kind that engulfed their entire face in teeth and tongue and hot vixen breath. The milotic had only homfed her muzzle, but it was close enough. Yara’s tongue filled her mouth, tasting of her seed, of the milotic’s seed, of fish…

The braixen came on the spot. She didn’t even bother stroking herself, instead opting to wrap her arms around Yara and hug her, heedless of the light coating of braixen seed staining her fur. (It really didn’t matter, given how soaked she was in cum already.) Her distended sack clenched down on her guest, trying to evict her in one of the biggest climaxes Weft had ever had…

Absolutely nothing happened. She may as well have been trying to cum out a brick. (No, she’d managed brick-sized friends; Yara was like an entire wall.) Her balls strained again, fruitlessly. It didn’t feel like there was a thousand pounds of fish in her nuts, but at some point the force clearly didn’t translate. Didn’t get multiplied.

Whatever. It still felt great—she didn’t feel blueballed, somehow—so she just leaned into Yara and made out with her, riding out her climax. The milotic seemed to be enjoying it too, what with her pleased noises and panting. (Weft realized she seemed to be able to breathe with her mouth occupied, which seemed totally unfair.)

As Weft’s riotous climax tapered off, Yara released her and let her flop limply to the cushy floor. She kept her arms draped around the milotic’s neck, with Yara’s head lying next to hers, some soggy magenta ear floor draped over the fish’s snout.

“Impressive,” Yara said, after a bit.

“Hmm?” was about all Weft could manage.

“You actually squeezed out a couple feet of me with all that clenching!”

I did? “Is that… a lot?”

“It’s more than I expected!”

“Huh.”

They both went quiet again, relaxing together in shared afterglow, the lightly cum-coated milotic lying across Weft’s absolutely cum-drenched belly and chest. Despite the milotic still stretching it, the braixen’s cock softened quickly after that workout, half dragging Yara back with it and half revealing more creamy scales from within its length. Soon it was hidden away, the milotic simply emerging from Weft’s wide-stretched sheath like she was her cock instead.

“Fuck,” Weft said, finally.

“Well said.”

“I wish I could keep you longer.”

“Keep me longer? I’m not going to get shorter,” Yara said. She lifted her head up to peer down at Weft, red eyes twinkling.

Weft snorted and rolled her eyes.

“In seriousness,” Yara added, “longer than what? Who said I was going anywhere?”

“No one, but—” She shrugged. “I can stay a bit longer, I suppose, but I have other stuff to do today and I can’t take you with me.”

“Can’t you? I’m extra-portable right now,” the milotic said, wriggling inside the braixen’s sack and making it wobble.

Weft took a moment to process this and to weather the wave of pleasure. “But—I can’t take you away from your partner,” she protested. “I’m not—I don’t even—”

“Not forever, silly,” Yara said, with one of those fluting giggles that made Weft’s heart do flips. “But he doesn’t mind if I do my own thing for a bit. Think of it like borrowing me for the night.”

“I—Oh. Hm.” She had to think about it, but it sounded okay. “He’ll pick you up tomorrow? And the ring?”

“Oh, no, you can keep the ring! It’s a gift.”

“What?!” Weft stared incredulously up at the milotic, who looked at at her with a genuine smile. “Yara, I can’t. I could never—I mean, it’s worth way too much. I can’t accept that.” She wanted it, absolutely, but it had to be worth several months of rent or more.

Yara looked sad for a moment, then contemplative. “Well… if you won’t accept a gift, perhaps I can propose a business venture. Use it in some videos and advertise us—we do mail-order and commission work.”

The braixen hesitated. She did really, really want it. “But I don’t really have a big following,” she protested. It sounded halfhearted even to her own big ears.

“It’s not about the audience size. It’s about how many of them are, what’d you call us in that video… ‘sickos open paren affectionate close paren’?”

At this point Weft couldn’t resist any longer. “Okay, fair. Still, this is incredibly generous. I’ll try to do some really good promo for you.”

Yara just beamed. “I’m excited to see what you do with it! It’s win-win, really.”

“However. Second problem. I can’t go out with my balls down below my ankles. I’ll be waddling, people will stare…”

“Oh, that’s easy!” The milotic twisted around and slipped her fins into the braixen’s sheath. Weft shivered as they reached deep, slipping past her knot (still sensitive) to the ring below. Yara did something.

Another wave of tingling swept across Weft’s sheath and sack. She braced herself, but it was much less intense than the first wave, gone nearly as soon as it came. Her sheath felt tighter, her cock on the edge of too stretched. And her sack…

The braixen sat up to stare at herself, watching her balls slowly shrink. The musky sprawl retracted closer to her body, the shapes of the milotic coiled within getting fainter and harder to see under her fur. They pulled back past her ankles, then stopped, still clearly swollen and distended. But not as much as before.

”…Hm. Well, that’ll have to do,” Yara said. “That’s as much room as it can give you without practice.”

“I see,” Weft said, feeling a little lightheaded. What could it do with practice? Could I fully conceal her? She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts lest her cock rear its head again. “Um. Problem three? I’m absolutely soaked in cum? And other fluids?”

Yara looked the bedraggled vixen up and down and nodded. “Indeed you are.”

---

A bit of water-type expertise later and Weft was clean and merely damp. Well, she had been clean; now she was picking up a fresh coat of floral sawsbuck fluids as she squirmed back out, but it was a lot better than having her entire front drenched in milotic cum. It was a surreal feeling, to push through a cervix taller than she was and into the much tighter passage beyond; it looked like her whole body should fit into his tunnel, but of course he wasn’t any deeper than on her trip in. Her paws spread the way ahead of her, poking out under Açaí’s tail and gaping his slit, the outside light glistening off the pink walls ahead of her. Her head was next, the rest of her following quickly after.

It occurred to Weft, squinting in the sunlight, that this wasn’t the sex store anymore. As she slid out and tipped down further, facing the brick sidewalk three feet below, it also occurred to her that she should have gone feet first.

Too late for that; she was already falling. The braixen yelped and flung out her paws, bracing herself for an impact that never came. After a couple seconds, she opened her eyes a crack to find herself suspended midair, her body wrapped in a faint opalescent glimmer. The fuck?

“Do be careful,” said Açaí, drawing her attention. He turned in place on three legs, twisting his head to see her. The sawsbuck’s fourth leg was raised in front of him, cloven hoof glimmering with the same light that was supporting her. His pink stoles drifted weightless on the breeze, and a nacreous pendant she’d missed before floated in front of his neck.

All of this was upside-down to Weft, of course, until Açaí casually motioned with his hoof and flipped her right-side up. Her footpaws alit upon the sidewalk and then gravity resumed, several pebbles clattering back to the bricks around her while she wobbled and fought to keep her balance. The pendulous pair of nuts sagging well below her skirt, almost to her ankles, didn’t help. They swung and got in the way, jostling against her ankles and nearly knocking her legs out from under her, but she just barely managed to stay upright.

“Thanks,” she said, once she’d secured her balance and her voice. “Uh, my bad.”

“Not a problem,” the sawsbuck said, as gracious as ever. He turned the rest of the way to face her, his stole and pendant back to hanging normally. “I’d prefer neither my guest nor my partner be dashed against the pavement.” He indicated Weft’s sack with one foreleg.

“Right! About that, I uh—” Weft paused. “I was going to double-check with you, but I guess you already know.”

“Yes.” He gave her a gentle smile, his deep green eyes placid and reassuring. “There are ways to have privacy inside me, but Yara didn’t use them.”

The braixen felt a rare flash of embarrassment, her cheeks growing hot and her ears angling out and down. So he heard everything?

Fortunately Açaí kept talking so she didn’t have to. “Here, I’ve got your bag.” He nodded to his side, where her shoulderbag was fastened to the panniers over his back. “And I checked out for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Weft said. She slung her bag over her shoulder and retrieved her new bottle of lube from one of his outer pockets. It didn’t have a receipt. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the sawsbuck said. “I hope you two have a lovely time.”

“Oh!” she said again. This was generosity of a vastly smaller magnitude than the ring nestled in her sheath, but Weft appreciated it all the same. “Thanks so much! I’m sure we w—” The braixen trailed off in a shuddering squeak as her guest shoved her head back out, spreading inner passageways wide.

Yara nosed Weft’s pale orange hip fur aside, obliterating its pitiful attempts at modesty and revealing her neck emerging from the vixen’s stretched black sheath. “We will,” she said, bright and cheery. “Love you, dear!” She slid several more feet of herself out, reaching towards Açaí to try and nuzzle him.

Weft grunted and had to stagger to keep her balance as she grew more and more front-heavy. The feeling of slick scales sliding through her didn’t help either, threatening to buckle her legs all on its own. She swiped at the milotic emerging in front of her and hugged Yara against herself, heedless of the slight slickness rubbing off on her fur. “Yara, please…!”

She would probably still have fallen on her face if not for the sawsbuck, who gave her a faceful of pink sash and tan chest fluff instead of sidewalk. He nudged Weft back onto her paws and nuzzled Yara, whose head was above the braixen’s. “You’re much heavier for her than you are for me,” he reminded the milotic. “And she has half as many legs.”

“Right, right,” Yara said, only slightly abashed. She started sliding herself back in, slower this time.

The braixen shivered. Yara taking it slow made the feeling more distracting, not less, but she tried not focus on it. “And we’re in public,” she added. “People will see!” She glanced around the street, feeling the weight of eyes, but nobody actually seemed to be staring. Maybe they hadn’t seen her slip out of Açaí, or maybe they were too far to tell what was actually going on?

“We wouldn’t want them to be jealous,” Yara said, a giggle fluting from her gills just above Weft’s sheath. “It’s not like you can hide your sack anyway.”

“That’s not as obvious as you sticking your head out,” Weft protested. “At least while I finish my errands.” She put a paw to Yara’s nose to try and push the milotic back down.

“Fine, fine, if you insist,” Yara said, voice growing increasingly muffled as her gills slid back into the tip peeking from Weft’s sheath, one pair at a time. “I’ll tuck myself away. But at least let me hold onto this for you!”

She wrapped her fins around the bottle of lube and plucked it from Weft’s unsuspecting paw, then rapidly pulled herself back in, her head vanishing into the braixen’s tip with a slick shlrk. Her fins followed, slurped up like wide, flat noodles.

The braixen tried to grab the bottle, but she wasn’t fast enough. Yara yanked it down and it slid right into Weft’s cock, disappearing with a final schlorp. Weft stared down at herself, at the red tip poking from her sheath, both still a bit gaped from Yara’s size. There was no sign of the bottle of lube, at least not besides the vague hints of coiled milotic under the fur of the sack squished between her legs. I guess I have a much bigger storage bag now, don’t I, Weft thought. Like Açaí.

Her cock throbbed, sliding another inch out. Wait no, think about something else, like dancing purple cufant. Hot as it was, unless she wanted to do her errands with her dick on display, it was best not to think about it. As hard as that was going to be. Hard…

It was going to be a long and hard afternoon.