Balros Balros scampers around on all fours Avali scoops squirrel. Right into tits he goes. Balros With a hot sizzling sound he is dissolved, absorbed into tits and breastflesh and fur. Holy fucking god your tits feel SO -FUCKING- GOOD as they GROW! Avali not only do they grow, but they're almost immediately packing massive squirrelshafts for nipples in the span of just a few heartbeats. Balls, too. Except big, leathery equine nuts. Balros Those balls are each as heavy as those entire tits, superdense and weighty things that wobble and churn and heavy and swell, reeking with musk pouring from the nipplesheaths. Squirrel fur covers all of them. Avali Oh no. What can the Avali do but clutch at his new squirrelsheath nipples? Y'know, aside from trying to angle them down to stuff into his giant sheath-spade, that is. Or just flatout spade at this point. Balros Squirrelsheaths flank your pussies, unsheathing several shafts each. So much big pink penis is in the way, thick as your leg and throbbing bigger. Those balls, too, are so dangerously radioactively virile that your wombs are getting bloated with clones. Avali can only barely comprehend the myriad sensations happening all at once, his body shifting and distorting as he swells with new Avali clones, his one over-engorged pussy becoming two. And then four, fighting for space with the new squirrelsheathes spilling out of his bushy crotch. Balros There's a certain squishy feeling in the back of your brain as some part of your senses are turning to squirrelsludge from how pleasurable too much feels like. Cunt after cunt popping open and gushing with juices, cock after cock erupting with pre and there's two to a sheath at the minimum. Thickhuge feathers and bushy pubic fur sprawl out from all over, and your prostate bloats large enough to nearly bulge out of your own engorged butthole Avali He... might actually be intrigued by what that idea could entail, but he's in no state of mind to consider it. Not when his four ears are probably oozing with squirrelseed. Something something Balros on the brain. Even his massive belly can't stop him from shoving his hands into his egregious bush, eyes unfocused as he rummages for his numerous pussies, working those canine cookies of his until even his squirrelcocks are hosing down the walls in front of him with cum so thick that it might as well be warm taffy. ~Except solid white, because common portrayals of such are often an offputting color~ Also boooo no subscript. Balros All four of your ears have a secondary pair of squirrel ears fluttering inside of them; sometimes a shaft goes in so easily, other times a cock emerges -out- from them. When your fingers sink into your own massive bush, some sink into pussies, others brush across sheaths, and your arms have duplicated themselves by the time you've actually found anything worth plunging into. As your squirrelcocks cum, all of your balls -clench- and grow HEAVIER, and your taint - holy fuck, your taint is bulging, BULGING, SWELLING as large as your largest pairs of balls. Avali A monstrous, bulging taint, at that. A titanic swell that compresses his double buttholes from below, pushing those dark rings up into a squished oval. How much of that is the root of his squirrelcocks and how much of that is his prostate(s) is up for debate. But he's (still) in no position to contemplate what it might entail. Not when he's combing four hands through a bush so large that even Reno might blush, never mind that he's birthing new Squirrelvali from his myriad pussies, already pregnant, and some of them having just had their dicks dislodged from his fallopian tubes. That begs the question of how those cocks were pushing out of his ears. Maybe some of them are just that long. Hosecocks are a thing, after all. Balros That sludgifying sensaion of something sentient turning into slag, heats up and becomes magma as soon as the BalroAvali clones begin to cram outwards from each of your cunts. Something more than a psychic link to each of them - they ARE you, you are now a heaving pile of hyper-aroused, superhormonal, and outrageously fertile duplicates of yourselves. Birthed from your wombs or outright cum straight from your thick shafts like overdeveloped megasperm developed into full squirrelvalis. You can see and hear out of every one of your bodies all at the same time. You can't stop cumming from EVERY one of your cocks and cunnies, especially not when other generations of yourselves start shoving out from pussies, cunts, buttholes, or sometimes even muzzles. And especially ears, stretching those listeners with outrageous sizes with mind-melting pleasurable ease. Avali In those moments of birthing, the now-Squirrelvali hybrid can only clutch at his ears, aware of every last milliliter of cum erupting from all four of the things as thought processes and independent throught are reduced to so much sludge, his eyes losing focus, his pointy teeth biting at his lower lip as the sensations of all his progeny suffuse his own thoughts as one. It's enough to leave him swaying, intoxicated, overheated, his overblown bush veritably steaming and his hypersized taint radiating warmth. He can't think. At all. There's too many of him. From maws, cocks, pussies, tits, buttholes, and ears. There's squirrelvali in his head, in his everything. The very definition of mind-melting pleasure. With a sudden shudder, the birthing of dozens from every hole, there's a terrific gush of cum from all four ears, followed by a languid slosh from within his head. It's all squirrelvali in there now~ Balros Across all your multiplying multitude of selves, there becomes a new normal. Something about experience every orgasmic iota of existence simultaneously across yourselves has itself become a thought. Squirrelvali thoughts. Not terribly coherent, but enough to mutate a subconscious out of, a sort of new shared set of impulses. Sometimes a limb can be controlled, to plunge into one of your own pussies and jill off until both your cunt and all of your cocks are erupting like gysers spewing white tar. Sometimes an entire mutation can take place, such as the eons-dizzying impulse to simultaneously grow a second head on every single one of your several-shouldered bodies. Doubling your processing power but halving your cognitive functions's capcity to actually achieve some higher thought. Mistakes like that largely just cost you time, which is a nigh-infinite source of pleasure and power with every new squirrelvali shoved into existence. So when a half-dozen squirrelvalis spill out of your own doorway, the entire neighborhood begins to feel sudden squelches from their crotches as fat black spades and fatter pinker pillars equipped with the heaviest, fluffiest balls define the new infectious, eternally-orgasmic existence of a squirrelvali infection. The scent of them alone is enough to cause Squirrelvali thoughts, and every thought births dozens more. Avali Not just fat, black spades, but ones that are immediately set upon from within by new squirrevali, such is the absurd capacity for mutation and spread. Cocks, limbs, and sometimes whole extra spades jut out from within, only to be followed by their new owner just moments later. An entire new hybrid for the growing collective, but seemingly never enough to achieve anything more than that desire to breed. Those aware of their transformation might have a few moments to bask in the sensations before cum abruptly gushes from their new Avali ears, and they're eagerly seeking out a new, fuckable partner, making a messy every step of the way. Truly a terrible fate for society as a whole, but these new fuckvali hardly have a care in the world. Just watch out for those ones with knowledge of the big gryphon Vincent~ Balros Balros, in an adjacent reality, DOES know of Vincent. And so forcing yourself out of his ear and into his lap with a shape so pear that all pears in that reality spontaneously also become Fuckvali. Gas erupting at outrageous volumes, both in amount and auditory, both liquid and gas. Balros for his part gets an instantly mutagenic variant, his throat clogged with tonguecock and his lungs fumigated with pheromonal muskgas. His normally engorged cock is plugged up into a donut butthole squeezed slightly out of shape by the megataint weighing both you AND him down into the couch. His own bloating butthole starting to mutate into a massive, gushing spade that itself CRUSHES the entire couch Avali has completely, utterly lost track of what he is beyond his description as a fuckvali, barely aware of the fact that his twin assholes are gaping with the sheer volume and pressure escaping his guts, his middle rapidly distorting and bloating with another, larger shape that clearly isn't the mutated squirrel's cock. In fact, all of him are experiencing something similar, bulging, swelling, birthing in an effort to relieve the pressure. Just the mere thought of Vincent sets something stirring. Audibly. Visibly. Perhaps a faint memory of an interaction with the gryphon, lost to the seed-sludge swirling in his head. A memory of getting absolutely fucked by the huge hybrid as he so casually buried the countryside. Balros Every thought becomes real. Breeding, multiplying, being BRED and breeding BIGGER offspring than parent. Vincent. Avali. Balros. A Fuckvali hybrid of all of you. Avali abruptly orgasms. From every hole, simultaneously. Nothing is spared, in no amount, shape, or form. Even reaching back and tugging on the rim of one huge butthole can't relieve the strain~