Art by
\n\t\t\t\t\tpulsarFor my beloved friend
\n\t\t\t\t\ttazelA gift.
A cascade of deer butts and moaning doe moms swells up at you as you fall from the sky. Like a volcano of deer rumps, visibly growing more legs, more rumps, more pussies and buttholes, birthing endless copies of themselves, pouring UP from the ground to you. And you're snuggled in dozens of hands that multiply casually in numbers and torsos, surrounding you in breasts and peppering you with kisses and whispers of "Sixy." "Sixy." "Sixy." "Sixy." in hushed tones from all around you. For miles. Every direction. Shirleens. And with giggles that roll like hypnotic waves across the ENTIRE PLANET, they gently begin to pull you. In every direction. Yet instead of your body stretching at all from their insistent tugging, they pull more Tazels out from you. Perfect copies of you, sharing your thoughts and emotions, hundreds of millions of extensions of YOU. One, sometimes dozens, of you for every Shirleen. From France, to Canadan cabins in the woods, to romantic indian marketplaces bustlings with fancifully dressed Shirleens in a crowded marketplaces with their doting Tazel misstresses. Blue fox colors and light chocolate doe brown and cream spots dominate the world. By the way, every single one of them simultaneously share the pleasures of every other vixen, from all the lustful, bestial lovemaking sessions in specially prepared minidimensions that let Sixy and Shirleen fuck and grow with each other until they outgrow their dimension pop out, back to normal (for Shirleen and Tazel, anyway), and ready to return to their lives in this reality you've fallen into.