He wears nothing at all, and is plainly aroused, for his green-furred sheath is bunched up at the base of a glistening pink shaft, Rooted in two slightly swollen areas that must be the equivalent of testicles, it stands erect, nearly seven inches long and thick, flared slightly at the pointed tip.

Anima nods, "Um, I don't think riding me is an option...I'll call you from there."
Anima fishes around in his pocket for something, and you hear a click. His eyes go wide and he manages to yip in fear before a blob of inky darkness envelops him. When the mist clears, only a pair of yellow eyes remain, which bounce off behind the curtain.
Anima has left.
MEETME: Anima would like you to join them. Please respond with
MEETME: "mjoin Anima" or "meet Anima" to go to their location,
MEETME: or "mdecline Anima" turn down the request.
meet anima
Kitchen
A vast expanse of black and sky-blue tiles, this food-preperation area is amazing. No less than three walk-in freezers are visible, sealed tight with large, bolting, steel doors painted in intricate murals. Take a look at the 'murals' if you like. Two ovens, a small one and a larger sit against the far wall. Ventilation fans in the ceiling keep the air fresh and cool, despite what culinary infernos may rage. Racks of pots and pans hang suspended from ceiling as well, all teflon and stainless steel. A large island-counter contains numerous drawers, cupboards and two inset sinks. The counter posesses several features of a butcher's table, artistically concealed to appear as molding. Light shines in from windows set next to the fans, warm incadescents present as backups. The whole chamber smells of exotic spices and seasalt, spotlessly clean. A number of cushions are arrayed on the floor, soft silk covers richly decorated with patterns simliar to the freezer's murals. Purrhaps you wonder what being w
Contents:
Anima
Brushtail
murals
RIDE: You are not carring anyone.
ws
Name Sex Species ('whospe #help' for help)
Strega female Many-legged sable weaseloid
Anima deux-male weaseloid
[Brushtail] [vixen] Red Fox | Anima
l br
A non-morphic vixen, such as the kind you'd find in any respectable woods. She cocks her head at you, and yaps a greeting. Her long soft tail swishes happily, and she pads over to sniff and snuffle ya. Satisfied she's recorded you, the three-foot long vixen gives you a quick lick and bounds off to nuzzle her panther, Anima.
Somewhere on the muck, DreamDancer has connected.

Strega smiles. "What a nice little vixen! And so tasty, I bet."
You smell nothing special.
Anima snaps on the overhead lights, and slinks to the island-counter. "Still a bit rough, needs work. Like her? I wasn't planning on making her dessert, but..."
Brushtail yaps?

Strega waves a paw. "It's all right. I'd feel bad about it afterward. By all means, proceed with the mousse."


l mur
Brushtail visibly relaxes.

The portrayed scene is breathtaking, an expanse of forest with several animals reclining on rich green moss. All appear to be eating or resting, and their swollen forms suggest many days passed in such activity. Despite their incredible obesity, the anthro deer, rabbit, skunk, squirrel and wolf look extremely satisfied and comfortable. Dappled shadows keep much of their bodys' details concealed, you imagine you can feel a gentle breeze laden with rich food scents drift across your body.

Anima reaches beneath the counter, and pulls out a hose. It's tipped with a four-inch diameter funnel, the pipe itself nearly as thick. "I cooked in bulk..." He grins, pulling the pipe over to you.
Anima whispers, "Anima nods, he's been meaning to fix them. "Desc is too long, why it cut off. Oh, you've got a typo or two on your jars...(See? Nobody's purrfect.) :KD" to you.

Strega squints at you. "If you were Athelind, I'd suspect an ulterior motive behind this generosity. Today he fantasized about me resting on a giant hot dog bun." She sniffs at the hose.

Anima nearly drops the hose as he giggles, placing the funnel-mouth against your lips. "Ha! I imagined Dook like that once...relish isn't a good color for him." He twists the hose, and an ominous rumble vibrates the floor gently...

Strega mumbles, "Poor Dook." She takes the funnel in her lips, whiskers pushed forward inquisitively.
Anima grips the hose with four paws as the thick cream blasts through it, vanilla/cherry swirl mousse gushing out into your maw. "Tell me when to stop..." He yells as the motor-sound rises in pitch.
Strega can't help but hiss out a laugh at the absurd situation, only to cough and shoot mousse out of her nostrils. She chokes for a moment, then swallows ten gallons or so, more dripping messily from her chops. "Ith Gud!" She nods her great head, hose moving in your paws.
In a page-pose to you, Dyne returns from RL. "Hello again. How are you doing?"

You page, "Pretty well! Had a huge polar bear and a skunkette over today, and now a friend is feeding me vanilla/cherry mousse by the cubic foot." to Dyne.
Anima winces from beneath a thin layer of mousse, hose jerking up and down. He loses control of the thing, and it slips from his slickened paws. He manages to trap it before it dances away, but the hose pulls away from you and coats your body in a split second with a coat of mousse. It's everywhere!
In a page-pose to you, Dyne grins. "3 in a single day? Pretty amazing to me."
Athelind pages, "Wurfwurf." to you.
Somewhere on the muck, Athelind has connected.

Strega's jaws gape menacingly, only to snap shut as a gust of laughter blasts out of her. Not a hiss...almost a real laugh! She slips in the spurting mousse, only countless paws keeping her upright. She moves a paw to stomp the hose flat and close off the flow, but is laughing too hard to coordinate, and misses it entirely.
You page, "My record is 14. But they've been very long sessions. The bear took 5 hours." to Dyne.
You page, "Am I ever glad you're not here right now." to Athelind.
In a page-pose to you, Dyne blinks. "I would never dream of even having that many vore opportunities. How are you supposed to find that many furs?"
You page, "I hung out at the Food Chain and ate everyone who showed up, for 14 hours straight." to Dyne.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind licks his lips. "Oh, really? and why is that?"

You page, "Nothing! Never mind." to Athelind.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind smiles. "Oh, come now. You can tell ME."
Athelind pages, "Has the woozlepede been overeating?" to you.
You page, "No I can't. Not after that hot dog fantasy." to Athelind.
In a page-pose to you, Dyne nods. "You get that many furs over at the Food Chain? Even I didn't know that.. *shrug?*"
You whisper, "My player is rolling!" to Anima.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind licks his lips again. "Oh, come now. that was just a momentary image suggested by an unintentional pun."
You page, "Two were repeats...twice in one day. I've seen 13, 14 furs there at once one time." to Dyne.
Anima acks! As hose vomits forth a ridiculous amount of dessert, his paws slipping on the off-on ring and unable to turn it off. Futilely, he drops it and bounds back to the cabinet to shut off the pump. Unattended, the hose writhes like a possessed snake, spewing white and red striped goo everywhere. Anima slips in the slime, and sprawls headlong. "This can in no way endear me to my cleaning staff..." He moans...
Dyne pages, "Still..I kind of get the idea.." to you.
You page, "Well...I suppose. A fur was feeding me vanilla/cherry mousse with a fire hose, and the thing got loose. It's spurting everywhere." to Athelind.
Anima whispers, "Anima cackles! He's been lookin forward to this for a while... BD" to you.
Athelind pages, "Mmmmm! Who convinced you to indulge in such an unusual repast?" to you.

Athelind pages, "And do you need some help getting it under control? I have some experience in such matters, as you can well imagine." to you.

Strega slips and staggers, 12-? paws sliding through the slime as she pursues the writhing hose. She stomps it with a paw, but it wriggles loose and squirms away. "There's no stopping it!" She wipes thick gel from her muzzle, half-blinded.
You page, "Oh, no. Not a chance. Do you think I was born yesterday?" to Athelind.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind will even wear a muzzle, to avoid temptation.
You page-pose, "Strega sighs. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. Two, 3 on a saturday is a really slow day for me."" to Dyne
In a page-pose to you, Dyne nods. "Still, that's very admirable to a fur like me."
Brushtail shakes her head in disgust, and slides over to the light switch. She slaps it off, and slowly, the hose settles to the floor. "Yap. {Translation:Stupid woozles.}"
You page-pose, "Strega wipes mousse from her eyes, a crazily writhing firehose in the background spurting hundreds of gallons of the stuff over walls and ceiling. "It's all right. Everything's under control, nothing to see here."" to Athelind

You page-pose, "Strega wipes mousse from her eyes, a crazily writhing firehose in the background spurting hundreds of gallons of the stuff over walls and ceiling. "It's all right. Everything's under control, nothing to see here."" to Dyne
In a page-pose to you, Athelind looks at you with big, eager, puppy-dog eyes. Somewhere in the background, a big, eager puppydog taps around, finding its way with a white cane.

In a page-pose to you, Dyne shrug?s.
Anima hisses warmly, "Oh, yeah. Everything's linked through that switch. It's a safety precaution, I always leave something on in the kitchen..."
Strega sighs, wiping mousse from her cheeks. "Well! I wish I had a hot pool, like my kin." She blinks around at the mess. "Ew." She slides a paw through several inches (feet?) of mousse on the floor.

You page-pose, "Strega has turned off the video! "Best not to tempt fate (and dragons)."" to Athelind
In a page-pose to you, Athelind snugs and smiles.

You whisper, "Athelind has been paging me. Needless to say, I wouldn't tell him where we are. That'd be bad." to Anima.

Anima wades through what must be at least two feet of sweet goo. "Sheesh, maybe I should just make a bowl next time..." He slips again, and coasts frictionless to a stop against your chest. He looks up, mousse covering everything but his eyes. "Um hi...hope you aren't mad. I think there's a sprayer in the sink, just let me turn the lights on again so I can see..." He struggles up, and smooshes toward the switch...

You page-pose, "Strega shakes vanilla/cherry swirl mousee from her fur. "Good evening, all!"" to Athelind, Kharlis, Shirra_WhiteFur and SpiritFox
Anima whispers, "Should we tell him what's going on, just to be cruel?" to you.

You whisper, "I did. You should have seen him drool." to Anima.
Dyne pages, "..About how many furs meet in the Food Chain around anyway?" to you.
Shirra_WhiteFur pages, "Your keeping busy, eh?" to you.

Strega snugs you with a paw or two. "It's all right. Just be glad you're not in your natural form. Moussed panther...mmmm."

You page, "It's messy over here. The fire hose got loose." to Shirra_WhiteFur.
Anima whispers, "Anima laughs darkly. "Maybe I'll let him clean the floor later..." to you.
In a page-pose to Kharlis, Shirra_WhiteFur and you, Athelind tries to get a better look at Strega's mousse.

You page, "How have to understand, there are never enough preds. On a good day I can gulp them one after another." to Dyne.
In a page-pose to you, Shirra_WhiteFur chuckles and kisses your cheek.. guess sie will miss delightful oddness while sie sleeps. :)
Athelind pages, "(If you're still busy with someone, I'll stop pestering you._" to you.

In a page-pose to you, Dyne nods. "I've been able to notice that with the few furs that come by the Cat and Mouse every once in a while."
You page, "I always enjoy talking to you, old wyrm." to Athelind.

In a page-pose to you, Athelind smiles and snugs.
Anima acks, and is tugged back towards you from the switch. He plops against you with a wet smack, paws scrambling for purchase. "Ooh, probably a good thing I didn't hit that switch..." He sighs, and licks a bit of mouuse off your ear. "It IS good..."
Athelind pages, "But I want a video tape! Do you know how long I've been pondering hose-feeding a woozlepede?" to you.

Strega slips a paw through the mess on the floor. "On the other hand." She slips a paw over the mousse on your fur. "Lubricant." She smiles.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind clears his throat and pretends he didn't say that.

You page-pose, "Strega hisses out a laugh. "I did offer, old wyrm. But you're taken."" to Athelind

You page, "Are you usually pred or prey?" to Dyne.
Dyne pages, "Prey. *shrug*" to you.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind blushes neon pink! "Not THAT hose, dear friend!!"

Anima hmms? nuzzling into the squishy mess. "For what? I'm just worrying about what'll happen if this stuff gets to the computers..." He sighs, obviously having forgotten anything he had planned for this evening. He licks absently at your cheek, the dessert thickening slightly as the cool air gets to it.

You page, "Maybe tomorrow, if we're lucky." to Dyne.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind chortles. "You are just asking to be tickled mercilessly."

You page-pose, "Strega smiles as she wipes something (whipped cream?) from her fur. "How are you tonight?"" to Jayce-Villa
In a page-pose to you, Dyne nods. "Okay."

Brushtail leaps into the Lair to clean off, daintily shaking off her paws.

Strega grins and nuzzles your flank, her sable fur white and red-striped now. "For what, he asks." She nuzzles you a little more aggressively. "Think about it."
You page, "Mmm. Mousse." to Athelind.
Brushtail has left.
Athelind pages, "Wicked woozle tease. <smile> Are you even going to give me a peek of what you look like after this?" to you.
You page, "And I. A really big polar bear and a skunkette (finally!) in my belly, and hundreds of gallons of vanilla mousse everywhere." to Jayce-Villa.
Jayce-Villa pages, "Vanilla mousse? I might be able to help you get rid of some of that..." to you.

You page, "Not until wash! I only swallowed a few gallons before ---- let go of the hose." to Athelind.

Athelind pages, "Tsk. We should fix that, then. <WG>" to you.

You page, "It's a mess at this end. The stuff's dripping from the ceiling." to Jayce-Villa.

Anima murrrs? snapping out of his reverie. He takes in the look on your face, and ohhhs. "Um, sure, that would make a nice lube..." He smiles, mousse all over him, and squirm/crawls to your hindquarters. His arousal is becoming evident now, two thick shafts dragging behind him through the goop.
Name Sex Species ('whospe #help' for help)
Strega female Many-legged sable weaseloid
Anima deux-male weaseloid

In a page-pose to you, Jayce-Villa wonders where you got it all...

Strega settles her hindquarters into the ooze. "Ew, again. But it should make things, well, slippery." She turns her head to grin at you, moving her tail to one side to expose her furry genital slit.

You page-pose, "Strega sighs. "As I said, most of the action takes place in the XXX-room. But I'll see what I can do. There are other PG-13 vores."" to Dyne

You page, "Well, Anima made a whole lot, and then the hose got loose." to Jayce-Villa.

Jayce-Villa pages, "hose. oh my. It sounds like you had quite the... party." to you.
You page, "Oooh. Look at this mess. I'll have to sign off for now, old wyrm." to Athelind.
Anima murrrrrs in anticipation, rising to his paws and clasping your rear. Carefully, he scoops up another pawful of mousse and inserts it into the slit. Smiling, he lifts his gooey, throbbing members and begins to nudge inside you...
In a page-pose to you, Dyne blink?s slightly. "You mean there is already a room of the Food Chain set for XXX vore only?"
Jayce-Villa pages, "though I don't think Anima does anything small" to you.


Athelind pages, "Alas. I suppose I'll do the same, then." to you.

Strega hisses lightly, and shifts her hid paws wider, opening her slit a bit. It's twice as wide, now...her big squishy vulvas must be 16" apart center to center. She cranes her neck, watching with great interest.

Athelind pages, "Hmmmm... Dyne was the fur that Callsfire said simply wouldn't leave him alone." to you.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind hugs. "Good night, Strega. It's time to hit the hoard."

You page, "Really! I had no idea. Sorry about that. Dream well, old wyrm." to Athelind.
Athelind pages, "Dream well, Strega. (visions of mousse-stuffed woozle -- on a roll -- dance through his head!)" to you.
You page-pose, "Strega squints her eyes shut. "Stop it!"" to Athelind

In a page-pose to you, Athelind smiles. "I thought you were signing off to clean up."

Anima glances from organ to organ, a bit concerned now...His own cocks being only 5 inches or so apart. Sighing, he plunges both frantically pulsing rods into one slit, and bends over to press his tapered muzzle against the quivering folds of the other. His smooth tongue slides over your right-hand sex, the woozle shivering in delight at the mingled taste of your excitement and his mousse. Your silken walls feel glorious against his male organs, pressing them together squishily. A few paws rise to stroke the slick flesh between your blossoms, leathery pads softened by this cream bath. He moans happily, hips rotating against you. He squeezes his eyes shut, reveling in the experience, then sliding his tongue as far as possible inside your depths.

Athelind pages, "Ahhh... sorry to contribute to the flood." to you.

You page-pose, "Strega scapes a layer of something (Whipped cream?) from her fur. "Good evening, love!"" to Vincent
In a page-pose to you, Vincent chrrs? "How are you?"

Strega flinches, having expected 5" thick cock in her 4" wide stretchy tunnel, only to get two at once! A grunt is forced from her, followed by a hiss of pleasure as your muzzle and tongue press into the other. She twists her flexible-as-a-serpent form about, muzzle sliding along her mousse-covered back to reach your own. Great pink tongue begins to lick mousse from your muzzle and head, as her hindpaws rise and stroke your flanks, pulling at your slick sides to add impetus to your thrusts.

You page-pose, "Strega shakes mousse of a paw and sighs. "The hose got loose."" to Vincent
In a page-pose to you, Vincent looks puzzled. "Hose?"

You page, "I don't know. I'll have to ask Ashentaine." to Dyne.

You page, "A friend wanted me to try his mousse. I weight 5+ tons in this form (7.5+ right now), so be made a *lot*. And a hose to deliver it. The hose got loose. The stuff is dripping from the ceiling, and 2' deep on the floor." to Vincent.

In a page-pose to you, Vincent ewws..

You page, "It's not so bad. It turns out to make a good lubricant." to Vincent.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind smiles and yawns. "Well, unless you need me to lend a claw, I think I'll be hitting the hoard after all."
In a page-pose to you, Vincent chuckles.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind rubs your tummy. "Enjoy the mousse. And, I daresay, the wolf."
Anima seems to crave your depths like a drowning fur craves air, pressing his muzzle firmly into your passage. He thrusts carefully, not wanting to injure either partner, but the mousse and your paws quickly speed things up...A flow of pre-cum joins the ever-growing amount of goo in the area. He moans quietly inside you at the three sensations, your pussy gripping his penises, your sex grasping at his muzzle, and your delicious tongue stroking his back...his eyes roll backward in ecstasy, pressed against your nether-lips.

You page, "I think we can manage...and things are getting sort of adult-rated anyway. Greedy dreams, Athe." to Athelind.
In a page-pose to you, Athelind smiles. "VIVIDLY greedy."

Strega hisses out another laugh, watching you vent your lust on her. Or was that a hiss of discomfort? It's *quite* tight in there, both your cocks squeezed into a 1-cock-wide tunnel. It presses fleshily around your thrusting shafts, only the copious gobs of slick mousse allowing you to fit in at all. Warm musk rises from her tunnels, surrounding your buried muzzle in the heady scent of alien weaselsnakethingiemaybesomewhatdragonishfemme lust. Her tongue strokes over your back, licking in liters of mousse...she pauses, eyeing you hungrily, then just keeps licking. Long tongue in one tunnel, double cocks in the other...at last, a reaction, as her left tunnel clenches tight around your tongue, forcing a grunt out of her.

You page-pose, "Strega wipes mousse from her eyes, a crazily writhing firehose in the background spurting hundreds of gallons of the stuff over walls and ceiling. "It's all right. Everything's under control, nothing to see here."" to Darlek
Darlek pages, "What the?.." to you.

Players online for whom you are watching:
Alecain Anima Badger Darlek
Dellway DreamDancer Dyne Ferragon
GryphRaptor Hobie Jamin Jayce-Villa
Kharlis Kiernan Peace Vincent
Done.

You page, "The hose got loose." to Darlek.
Darlek pages, "Understandable. Now.. why do you have a mousse hose?..." to you.

You page, "Well, Anima wanted to feed me some of his mousse, and I weigh 5+ tons in this form, so me made a lot. But the hose...well, got loose." to Darlek.
Anima murRRRs, drinking in your heady musk and sliding inside you. He opens his jaws inside you, trying to create more room, and swabs your clenching insides with his fleshy strip. The paws rubbing between your sexes gain a bit more finesse, the woozle beginning to gently draw his claws across the flesh. Mousse squelches around both of us, is it still getting deeper? Cocks rubbing against each other and your taut flesh begin to flare, at least one about to explode and add his cream to yours and the dessert...
Darlek pages, "Shoot it with that gun you keep in your drawer ;)" to you.

You whisper, "Do you have balls in this form?" to Anima.

You page, "Two words: No gun. In drawer." to Darlek.

Darlek pages, "That's 4 words. I dreamed it, that makes it so ;)" to you.
w =pokes.
Anima whispers, "Anima nods, but they're internal. "Wouldn't do to have four grapefruits bouncing along under me...no grace at all..." to you.

You whisper, "Grapefruits?!" to Anima.
Anima whispers, "Anima shrugs, a bit sheepish." to you.

Strega groans, tongue faltering on your back, as her right tunnel clenching hard around your double cock. Pulsing vulva squeezes and ripples, and then releases...and then the left tunnel spasms again, clutching hard at muzzle and tongue. A rhythm begins to develop, one and then the other, but still slow...from your previous experiences, her mini-orgasms build over time to the unstoppable final spasm. Her tunnels shiver between spasms, the inner edge swelling quickly as she too reaches full arousal. She curls tighter around herself, tongue lapping hard at your back...and then sliding past, her muzzle curving around to nuzzle your bunched-up sheaths, huge tongue lapping at the base of your shafts as you drive in and out of her.

You whisper, "No wonder you produce so much seed." to Anima.

You page, "Me managed to subdue the horrid thing. We're two feet deep in mousse, though." to Darlek.
Darlek pages, "I tell ya, let that stuff harden, then chip what you can out, then pour some alcohol on it, or just some moonshine, and that stuff'll just rub right on out of there." to you.

You page, "How do you know so much about mousse?" to Darlek.

In a page-pose to you, Darlek shrugs "There was little to do out in the country"
Anima shudders and cries out within you, slurping your inner walls enthusiastically. His members snag gently as your cleft pulses, dragging along your insides. Quickly he applies more mousse to his pistons, getting some male-flavored dessert on your tongue in the process. His tail is invisible in the sea of goo, twitching and spasming from time to time. Finally one cock explodes, firing a continuous stream of hot pleasure into your flower. This relieves the pressure on your insides a bit, as the spent member takes a moment to recover. His groans are constant now inside you, warm breath caressing your tunnel.
You page-pose, "Strega wipes mousse from her eyes, a crazily writhing firehose in the background spurting hundreds of gallons of the stuff over walls and ceiling. "It's all right. Everything's under control, nothing to see here."" to Ralgha
In a page-pose to you, Ralgha mews??


Strega hisses happily as hot woozleseed fills her tunnel, and reaches back with her hindpaws. The big paws wrap around your haunches, pulling you in hard, making you hump faster than ever. Her tongue licks over musky woozlecocks, her chin half submerged in goo. Another spasm, right tunnel, left again, right...and a hiss begins to be forced out of her, rhythmic, like the spasms. Loud, and growing louder, as she begins to shudder, tunnels quivering.
Ralgha pages, "Where might this be?" to you.

You page, "Anima was feeding the 'pede vanilla mousse through a firehose, and it got loose. What a mess." to Ralgha.

Ralgha pages, "Ohh... I thought you said mouse spraying all over your eyes. Ever hear of Stabbing Westward?" to you.

You page, "Nooooo?" to Ralgha.
Jayce-Villa pages, "I just don't get along with some of the regulars." to you.
Ralgha pages, "Oh...nevermind...saw them in concert last night... still reeling from the greatness. ;)" to you.

Anima's recently-drained cock swells back to its prior size, and now the other spasms and floods you once more! He nearly whimpers within you, drinking down your fluids and high on your scent of arousal. He concentrates now on your ridge, scraping his fangs across it tenderly and sliding his tongue over it in tiny circles. Your spasming just drives him on, desperate to milk himself and you of every drop of passionate pleasure he can...Now again both his shafts are full-size and grinding quickly in and out. More mousse is applied, while he tries lowering his hips to rub against your tongue on each outward-stroke.

You page, "Any particular ones? ...I guess it doesn't matter. If there's that much of a personality conflict...." to Jayce-Villa.
Jayce-Villa pages, "Someone had the gall to yell at me for suggesting I might eat an infant that was getting too close to me there." to you.

You page, "Infant?" to Jayce-Villa.

Jayce-Villa pages, "Yah, there's an infant there right now." to you.

You page, "I don't think much of ageplayers, myself." to Jayce-Villa.
[ Anima looked at you ]
Jayce-Villa pages, "I wasn't gonna do it, and had simply said that someone had better move it away from me before I did eat it." to you.
Jayce-Villa pages, "I didn't have any problem with the person playing the baby... He was being IC, just like me." to you.
You whisper, "Sorry about this delay. I'm getting a chain-business page as we speak." to Anima.
You page-pose, "Strega sighs. "Some furs don't get it. I saw somefur draw a gun there, once."" to Jayce-Villa
Jayce-Villa pages, "Like a gun is going to have any effect on 90% of the population" to you.
Anima whispers, "Anima nods, no problem...*slurp*" to you.
You page, "It would have in this case. But it was gauche. Somefurs have a short fuse in just one little area, but it's real short there. Pedophiles I can't stand, and I have ageplaying child friends (G-rated ones) that I'd kill preds to protect." to Jayce-Villa.
Hobie pages, "I met a little polarbearelk" to you.

Jayce-Villa pages, "I probably just need a little bit to cool down, and will just leave when those people show up." to you.
Jayce-Villa pages, "the ones who set me off tonight." to you.

Strega grunts, pushing back against you and growling loudly as right and left tunnel clench down, lightly, receding...and then spasm hard. Right tunnel clamps down wetly around doublecock, milking you dry in a series of rippling contraction. Her other, empty tunnel spasms also, spraying musky fluid over your muzzle and chest. Her swelling scarcely twitches, perhaps immune to this sort of stimulation...but the rest of her is not, as her whole length shudders and spasms in the grip of the orgasm. Her jaws snap shut (good thing you've no balls...?) beneath your sheath, and her muzzle drops into the goo.
You page, "A what? Little?" to Hobie.
Hobie pages, "a baby polarbear elk" to you.

You page, "Now there's a hybrid I wouldn't have expected." to Hobie.
In a page-pose to you, Hobie nods "he's wandering rather lost around the food chain he mentioned he knew you

Jayce-Villa pages, "No, those two were fine. It was Hobie and Terressa" to you.
You page, "Does he, now. There's certainly no fur of that type in my collection." to Hobie.
Hobie pages, "his name is Peace from what i gathered but he's really just an infant" to you.
You page, "I know them both, have eaten them both. Hmmm." to Jayce-Villa.

You page, "Ah! Him. He used to be an adult polar bear. I introduced him to vore." to Hobie.
Jayce-Villa pages, "I have no desire to eat either... even if they weren't too big for me." to you.
Jayce-Villa pages, "Terressa was the one who said I should take my mood somewhere else, since threatening a baby was crossing the line." to you.

Anima grits his teeth as his cocks buck against each other, brimming you full and overflowing with his hot seed. His muzzle twists inside you, tongue making one last circle of your moist flesh before retreating. Weak and spent, his form flicker and is replaced by the black kitty. Black, that is, under a thick layer of mousse, 'pede cream, and woozle spooge. He pants lightly, squirming through the red/white goop to nestle messily against your belly. "Ohhh, Strega...that was...divine." He smiles, amber eyes drinking in your matted, slicked and sweetened body.

You page, "Hmmm. That's a bit out of line for her, but I might react the same way on a bad day." to Jayce-Villa.


l anima
Unlike most of Anima's guises, this one is easy to see. Glowing, pure white fur shines in the light, flowing over low shoulders, a slinky back, and melting into a blunt-tipped tail. A weasel-like head sports a pair of violet eyes, whiskers a foot long, and a pink nosepad. He smiles, fangs (almost large enough to be tusks) showing a tad. His lithe graceful form measures about 12 feet long, dense musculature rippling as he pads softly about. His thick bellyfur conceals his sex, though in certain positions a flash of grey/pink can be seen. There seem to be more paws than normal on this weaseloid, six pairs support his slinky weight. Quite thin, you can count a few of his ribs through the fur. Purple irises glance across the room at you, Anima lickes his lips with a bright red, foot-long tongue and winks.
Now aroused, you see Anima is blessed doubly. Two five inch thick, pink pulsing members hang from his belly at a slight forward angle. You judge each is roughly two feet long, and the tips glisten creamily. He knows you're looking, and holds his head high with pride...
[ Anima noticed you looking at Anima ]
Carrying:
beachtowel
Katra Transfer Kit
Pepsi
Jayce-Villa pages, "I'm just going to avoid her from now on." to you.

You whisper, "You'd best morph so I can get a look." to Anima.
Anima whispers, "Anima sorries, forgot." to you.

You page, "She's been a decent meal a couple of times. Ah, well, there are furs I avoid too." to Jayce-Villa.

l ani
At first glance, you notice something awry about this panther. His pelt is an unnaturally deep black, drinking in ambient light only to re-direct it to his gleaming gold orbs.
Looking a bit closer, you notice this particular predator is doing his profession great credit. His silky neck is swollen, mucled limbs sheathed in thick layers of fat. Fourteen feet long, not counting his tail, Anima is huge in more than one respect! On all fours at the moment he appears for all-the-world like a non-anthro panther. His belly sags below him, only an inch or two off the floor. When he at last comes to rest, flopping down on his side, that belly pools out across the floor softly.
Anima strokes his swollen tummy with a fond look on his face, as if remembering every delicious meal that made him what he is today. Finally he glances up at you, and a final distinguishing feature comes to light. He's not totally black, a silver patch of fur rides his face like a theatre mask. It dissolves into moonlight tears that run down his fluffy cheeks, lending him a permanent air of sorrow and dignity. But the grin he shoots you is warm and friendly, purposely concealing his teeth from view. When you look again, the panther has become bipedal. The paunch even more obvious in this shape, he stands eleven feet tall at the head, and his shoulders are nearly four feet wide...purrhaps you wonder what other things he can with his moldable body?
He's carrying a few items he uses nearly every day in a small leather sack that hangs at his side, unattached to a belt. He wears nothing else, his sex concealed only by his lush dark pelt.
[ Anima noticed you looking at him ]
Carrying:
beachtowel
Katra Transfer Kit
Pepsi



Strega shivers as her spasm finally passes, dark eyes fall on you. Perhaps you don't know a certain important thing about falan females. Important when you're near one and she climaxes, anyway. Paws slip through the muck as she curls softly around you, a wall of cream-covered fur. Paws rise to stroke your slippery flanks, even as the circle closes. her muzzle rises over the wall, dripping mousse, descending to lick at your sticky back. "Mmm. It was nice, wasn't it. Still gaining weight?" Her manner is friendly, but her eyes study you with clinical detachment.


Anima whispers, "Anima sighs, and needs to get going..."I'm really sorry, this took a bit longer than I'd planned..." to you.

You whisper, "No problem, love. Have fun, and dream well." to Anima.

You whisper, "I was ROTFL! It was well worth the mess." to Anima.



Anima looks up at you dreamily, then falls asleep. He looks adorable, all covered in muck and purrr-snoring like a kitten...

Anima whispers, "Anima smiles, indeed..."I'll show up at the chain tomorrow coated in mousse, and see what happens. Make sure you're there?" to you.

You page, "What time?" to Anima.

Anima whispers, "Anima shrugs, around midnight. Possibly earlier, like 7:00." to you.
You page-pose, "Strega hugs you gently with her forepaws. "I'm so sorry I wasn't free earlier, when you needed me. Maybe tomorrow, sometime?"" to Ashentaine

You whisper, "I'll see what I can do, love." to Anima.
From afar, Ashentaine mind-sends to you: "We'll see."
Anima whispers, "All I ask. Goodnight." to you.