Scenes from Yetanotherverse

Asses still come in all shapes and sizes, but I'll confess I have preferences. I like them high and tight, with width and plumpness serving as accents. Lara's is quite the exemplar. With minimal effort, I can part it so that I have easy access to her backdoor. When it comes to those -- and pussies -- I like variety. The only constant is that looking at them turns me on, even though I don't consciously think of them as beautiful or sexy. Lara's browneye, when perfectly tight and unmolested, boasts a prominent, wavy, horizontal fissure. Its color is nearly identical to that of her mocha pussy. I get an eyeful before I get to work, and my cock comes fully to life near Kit's teasing mouth.

My beautiful pet traces one of her fingers -- claw fully retracted already -- near my taint. I shift my hips and let her know I'm willing and eager. As I worship Lara's asshole, Kit prepares to extract my first load of the day. She gives my balls delicate licks with the merest hint of sandpaper; she teases my hole with a lubed finger; she massages my hardening cock with her soft, padded hand. She's very good at what she does; she's had a lot of practice. When she finally decides it's time to give me a full-on foxgirl blowjob, my hips are already thrusting of their own accord. Lara starts lazily rubbing herself; the heat, moisture, and scent of her pussy around my nose and closed eyes is heavenly. My deep-tissue massage of her glutes is making her groan. I am a man being swallowed up by two worlds -- two goddesses. I could die. It would be wonderful. They'd bring me back to life in due time.

Lara's regained her senses; she's aware enough to know that my temporary blindness is frustrating me, and that tickles her nearly as much as my tongue. For a while, she and the other two imps torture me with the sexy mystery of what exactly they're up to. Lara finally shows mercy. She paints the picture.

"Mmmm, Philly's beat you to your third course, Ker," she says. "Ooooh, that's nice. You'd think her mouth and tongue would be all worn out from that marathon session with Cass, but no, she's nursing like a starving baby. No! Don't you dare stop, you perfect picture. That was a compliment! Oh, god, yes, like that. As hard as you want. Stretch my nipples. That's so good."

My cock responds predictably to the dirty talk, but for a brief moment, all I can think is, A-ha! Cass! That's not exactly a sexy mystery, but it's another one solved nonetheless.

I can feel Lara arching and twisting her back to get a different view. She wants to tell me more of the story. It's very generous of her. "Okay, I see now," she says. "Kit's all comfy between your legs, and now Cass is there too, behind her, gently encouraging her to present. Forward come the knees, up goes the ass, legs spread, tail high... oh, that's probably an even prettier sight from behind. That's right, Cass; be gentle. Kit's a good little pet. Lightly stroke the tail from the base to the tip. Good, good. Tease the plug; light pressure forwards, nothing too abrupt. Oh, our little fox likes that a lot."

That much I can tell without looking. Kit's blowjobs always include sensual purring, but when she's getting attention at the same time, that extra source of vibration goes from amazing to unreal. Said attention can be anything from words of praise to petting to teasing, and I'd surely be supplying the former if I weren't so busy. Lara would chime in too, but she knows Cass has everything covered.

After a short break in the narration, during which all of us are licking, sucking, petting and stroking -- or, in Lara's case, being licked and sucked -- my sensual storyteller resumes her duties, and even directs the action towards another set of climaxes.

"Okay, Cass, baby, you know what to do: scritches and kisses. Let her know what a good pet she's being. Phee-phee, switch titties -- yup, hook your leg right over the pillow, like that. Oh, your hair is so soft! I want to stick my hands in it and never take them out, but... oh. Oh! Oh, you beautiful girl, right there. Tickle my clitty, right along the underside. Shhhh, it's okay. It's okay. I know you only like ear play in missionary. Don't you worry."

I feel my orgasm approaching. Kit does too. She's blissed out from Cass's well-directed attention, but sex is practically autonomous for most of us. If anything, her blowjob gets better. That finger of hers penetrates me, slides in so deep, and begins playing my insides like an instrument. There's not just one spot in there anymore, except there almost is because there are just so many. I could flex my muscles, shift my hips just-so, and maybe delay my climax, but why would I? I let Kit push me over the edge to my not-so-little death. Her padded paw presses down on me, just above my root, squeezing my receptive glands from both sides like an old-world enema bag. Sharp pangs of piss-desperation turn into electric jolts that trigger catastrophic spasms deep inside of me; they originate from everywhere, and travel everywhere else. My endless ejaculation is just one part of a much greater whole. I cum with my body and my mind. Victory, purpose, fulfillment, surrender, non-thought, true love, feeding my pet to overflowing with her favorite treat... the male orgasm is finally long enough to feel truly complete. Again, again, more, more, shoot out stuff you don't even have no longer haunts us. We get to feel done. We get to really, truly die. When that hard-coded mantra is finally audible again, it's just a suggestion for more fun. Like the sirens' song, it's a post-portal promise we know will be kept.

Ophelia's mouth and fingers -- and my tongue -- bring Lara off again. She gets quiet, shudders, and soaks my face. I take advantage of her fibrillating gluteal muscles, digging my fingers in deeply. Finally, I elicit a tight groan of ecstatic agony from her tensed diaphragm and nearly-empty lungs. Meanwhile, I know Cass is doing something that Kit very much enjoys, because my good little foxgirl is practically fucking her own mouth with my deflating member.

Lara dismounts and splays out next to me. We both call for water and let it rain on our faces, catching some lazily and letting the rest soak us. Ophelia is flush and ready for action, but she, too, takes a water break. It isn't long before her spread legs invite a little fox to come and play. Up top, we turn our heads towards each other, as if about to speak, and I get to see the delighted surprise on her face when she feels the wet nose on her swollen, throbbing clit. It's beautiful. Her brilliant green eyes widen, sparkle, and dilate. Her lips part, caught between an 'O' and a smile. Then she relaxes into the rhythm. That special energy surges; it hits me like sunlight through a large window on a cold day.

Cass catches my eye. I see the large, multicolored, distinctly canine phallus attached to her hairy mound. She silently asks if she can fuck Kit.

"Gentle mating," I tell her. "Kit's a good little fox and needs to be loved." Kit whimpers her gratitude, even though I should be thanking her.

Cass is gracious enough not to roll her eyes or otherwise say, "Yeah, we've been over this already." I still watch her for a minute or two. When I'm satisfied she knows how to treat my pet right, I lazily seek out my precious half-elf's smallish breasts and lightly tease them.

"Love you, Phee," I say.

"Love you, Ker," she exhales. Kit's already got her close. We kiss briefly, but she breaks it to look down at her latest partner. I can tell what's happening. Kit's silently asking her all about fingers: if, where, and how many.

"Stuff my pussy," she says with sudden intensity.

I was planning on shifting down to nurse on a tit, but instead, I wait for Kit to comply. Phee turns her head towards me; she knows I want to watch. The look on her face when the hand goes in is so deeply sexual that my cock swells halfway back to life, and I know my pale, freckled goddess isn't faking anything. I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead.

"Enjoy," I say with a smile. She knows I mean it with all my heart. Envy and jealousy are nothing but kinks these days, and we've never been big fans. Once a month, maybe. Variety's still important.

I feel Lara's heat on my other side. She's moving in and propping herself up at the same time. "You were a good little tongue-slave for me," she says. "Do you want to suckle?"

I nod eagerly and turn my body towards hers. With a few scooches and shifts, we find a good position. I close my eyes, sigh, and latch on. She sighs right afterwards. I don't fully lose myself, because I want to hear what's happening behind me. I still sink into sexspace -- or somewhere adjacent to it -- enough to stop thinking. When I feel Lara's soft hands running through my hair and down to my back, I melt into her.

It's like listening to your favorite music while falling asleep. Ophelia cums thanks to Kit; Kit cums thanks to Cass; Cass cums while fucking my fox, mostly because sex toys can do virtually anything you want them to. Giving a strap-on fucker an orgasm for their trouble is hardly a novel idea. The execution, however, has been perfected.

There's another recovery period. All four girls silently offer to take care of me again. I let them know that there's plenty of time. We all head into the bathroom for a cleaning session.

I have a feeling I should spare a few details. Infinite magical water cascades down all around us, and our elementals manipulate it to do everything that needs doing. Indoor plumbing is our backup system, but nobody pooh-poohs it. We have our preferred soaps, lotions, oils and creams, and they're all close enough to liquid for our symbiotic pets to handle them once we've squeezed or poured out a good amount.

Forgive me for edging up to the line, but I would be remiss not to mention the special, compensatory pleasure that bathing girls so often indulge in these days. During their ablutions, they can experience something quite akin to ejaculation if they wish. The elementals arrange things just-so, and a combination of masturbation, orgasm, and evacuation becomes more than the sum of its parts. I get to watch four beautiful women experience something very close to the ultimate male pleasure. Yes, even Kit enjoys it. She prefers to be down on all fours, humping her sex against her special 'scratching post.' When the moment comes, I even see one of her rear legs twitching, as if some deep vestigial instinct is telling it to lift up.

What my cute little fox doesn't enjoy very much is wet fur. Her internal elemental is judicious, cleaning only what it must with as little warm liquid as possible. As the four of us continue our human-slash-elven routines, Kit retreats into her large crate, wherein awaits a special, external elemental -- one that manipulates a fine cleansing powder. It makes her fur soft and lustrous, deep-cleans the skin beneath it, and spares her both the discomfort and indignity of being a soaked pet.

We four dry off, and Kit emerges. We do our best not to start everything up again, but there is some kissing and fondling before we make it all the way to the kitchen.

We aren't there five seconds before Zam catches sight, and scent, of Cass.

"Hey, Zam," I say cheerfully. I already know what's going to happen next.

"Yeah yeah yeah love you love you love you," she rattles off with a gentle wave of her hand. Her large, inhuman erection is already a heat-seeking missile. She closes in on Cass without hesitation, barely offering up any of that silent third language. It's up to Cass to politely decline, but she's quickly under the imposing dickgirl's spell. I can see her body language change, head to toe. In an instant, Zam looks like she's putting the moves on a girl she just slow-danced with at the prom, but she gets there with no effort. She loves fresh meat, and fresh meat can't resist her.

I spare a glance at Cady, who was also already in the kitchen. He (or she, as you prefer) is plugged, caged, and collared. Otherwise she's wearing nothing but soft slippers and sissy-panties -- the kind that keep the tiny cage on her tiny clitty and her rear plug on full display. Her cum bump is prominent this morning. She (or he) is just starting to virtually assemble breakfast -- the pre-planning stage -- on a large, free-floating holoscreen.

Lara's the first one to tear her eyes off of Zam's shameless display and approach him. She asks the question she already knows the answer to. It's the responsible thing to do. "Hey, sissy-gurl," she says. "Do you need a milking?"

Cady's cheeks go bright red. She shakes her head vigorously. "No, Miss," she says.

Zam turns her head from Cass for a moment; she'd had the tomboy locked into a downright hypnotic stare. "Oh, her oil's been fully changed," she says. That's another old-world reference. "Won't be any of her own juice in her for another hour at least. No seeds, obviously."

That makes Cady blush even harder. She surrendered her shriveled marbles about a year ago; she's deep into her fetish, and to be honest, it works for me too. The nipples on her little sissy-titties harden into diamonds. We all know she's feeling kinky-humiliation, not the real thing. All of us are happy to contribute to her kinky-misery-happiness.

"She really made you her little sissy bitch last night, huh?" Lara says, swatting the little white gurl on her bubble butt. "You must have loved that."

"Yes, Miss," Cady answers, hanging her head. Lara takes hold of her nipples and tugs them. Cady gasps, and braces herself on the counter in front of her.

"Good sissy," Lara says. She pushes her bare pelvis into Cady's butt -- one authoritative hump -- and gives her a hard peck on her cheek. As a parting gift, she rubs the cum bump like it's a baby belly.

I've settled in to my usual seat at the kitchen table, past the L-shaped bar that connects to Cady's workspace. Ophelia's beside me, and Kit's between my legs -- not to give me another blowjob, but halfway up like an eager pet, begging for all manner of scritches, pets, and rubs. I indulge her completely, paying special attention to the area just above her butt and tail. She starts making husky, primal fox noises; her emptyheaded bliss blends together with lust. I feel very powerful, knowing I can get her worked up so easily. Ophelia likes watching me do it. She's mostly watching The Zam Show right now, but she's absently fondling me too. Everybody knows we're working up to something. The energy isn't going to be the same; once another cock is involved, everything changes. That's okay though. I never begrudge Zam her contribution. Variety is important, and I'd be quite the hypocrite besides, given how often I enjoy that contribution directly.

Zamyra's fully captured Cass. The only silent question she asks is whether the tomboy wants it doggy or missionary. She chooses the latter. Within seconds, she's on her back on the cool, engineered-stone counter nearest to me, so that my view is the top of her head and Zam looming over her. Ophelia thinks fast and tosses a nearby pillow; we've got them everywhere. Zam snatches it out of the air, offers it to her prey, and deftly sticks it under her head when she raises it up.

"Thanks, Phee," Zam says amicably. She grunts, and buries herself into Cass's sopping cunt in a single thrust. Cass's last shreds of intelligence leave her body through her mouth in a rapturously defeated groan.

My cock gets hard, and both of my girls sense it immediately. Ophelia's dexterous hand begins teasing it; Kit's paw tickles my twitching sack.

"So which one of you sluts is gonna come suck my asshole, eh?" Zam brashly demands. Lara hops-to from behind her immediately, leaving Cady to her work. She disappears down behind the dickgirl fuck machine, whose face displays dominant satisfaction and pleasure a moment later.

"Yeaaaaaaaaah," she says, just like that, and starts fucking Cass even harder.

Zamyra is a mutt, which isn't the officially accepted term. Zam couldn't care less, but when puppygirls are an actual thing, I can appreciate the desire to avoid confusion. She predates the coalition; she comes from a world that went crazy with portals, genetic tech, magic, and sex. Whereas most people need to take stabilizers for a while after a major shift, Zam has to take them just to maintain a static shape. Her whole body is a war of parts. What she looks like today is just what she's settled on for now: a tall, muscular, dusky dickgirl with a cartoonish shock of ash-white hair, whose impressive tits are just modest enough so that they don't get in the way of her dominant displays of cocksmanship. She has two sets of ears: one human-ish, and one further up that seems to borrow from multiple breeds of cat and dog. She's got prominent canines that she flashes all the time, and her well-defined digits suggest animal strength combined with elven dexterity. If I had trouble describing Cass's strap-on earlier, well, I have no prayer of giving you the rundown on Zam's current flesh-and-blood appendage. Ironically, her asshole is practically the platonic ideal: a many-spoked asterisk with no tags or asymmetries.

Even 'flesh-and-blood' is a term I use loosely when I talk about my current favorite dickgirl. Zam's got tech under the hood. It's not clear how it holds together with everything else. We don't ask what it is or what it does, let alone how she isn't dead. For her, not caring is a way of life. It's how she stays sane.

The constant fucking and cumming help too, I'm sure.

"Getting excited there, champ?" she asks me, betraying no hint of fatigue. Her stamina is legendary; she could fuck Cass like that for an hour while singing show tunes. "You wanna be next?"

"Put me on your dance card for sure," I reply, "but right now, I'm having a thought."

I decide not to sass her too much for her constant boasting, even though I could. Zam loves getting railed in the ass just as much as any of us -- maybe more. She can't cop to it, though. She's too caught up in her ultra-dominant persona. What that means is that hardly a day goes by where someone doesn't have to pretend to drug her or knock her out and then "rape" her until she blasts off hands-free. When it gets really bad, we have to hit up VR and do a prison-farm, prison-medlab, or prison-prison scene.

"Well, those can be fun sometimes I guess," she says with a shrug. "I'm already having mine, so you do you." She's also casually anti-intellectual. The tech in her head probably contains a quantum supercomputer, and maybe that's the reason she prefers to play dumb. She's quite the character, even considering the circumstances. I love her. I hope she sticks around. You really haven't lived until she's made you her bitch, and kinky-raping her is lots of fun too.

Cass, case in point, is completely out to lunch. She's grunting like a dying animal, but it's barely even her doing it. Zam's powerful thrusts are pounding the noises out of her. The dominant dickgirl doesn't believe in the roller coaster theory of sex. She's a mountain girl. She carries her victims up to the peak and keeps them there until they pass out from lack of oxygen. I can see she's already doing a signature move down near Cass's obscenely stretched entrance. She's got one powerful thumb on either side of her prey's hairy, dark-pink pussy, and she's massaging that wishbone of sexual nerves with a vengeance. Cass would be fighting to get away if Zam's cock hadn't already evicted her brain.

Poor little Cady's been completely forgotten, but that doesn't worry me. That's part of her kink package too. She's being a good little sissy slave for the household; we get to have sex whenever we want, and all she's entitled to are regular milkings. She's working on the perfect breakfasts for all of us, and she's very good at it. It's the one thing she enjoys getting praised for, actually. Kinks are weird like that.