UniformVixen
drags her tongues into your mouth, over your ears, massive paws coming tenderly around to grip and hold and caress and cover, and delightedly pull and grind you into her grease-musky undersides as she cuddles you tightly in amidst her near-total slumber, chittering out her delight. lovelovelove came to visit, and comfort a dreamdrunk squirrelhost ~

Balros
His muzzle is invaded. Slick, hot, thick tongues that cram into his maw and clog his throat before he can breathe. Those enormous, thick-fingered handpaws collecting him up in their meaty grasps, and SMOTHER him like a fucking sweatrag into thick pelt, hot steamy pheromonal fur. His touch is hot and sizzles into your skin like an acid trip.

UniformVixen
drags you into her bed. Blunted claws dragging through your fur, pads gripping you tightly as you are passed around herselves, sharing doting kisses and needy, passionate lip presses, soaking in your presence, getting all of her roiling with uncontained and uncoordinated excitement, delight, a loneliness-shattering moment of togetherness that is spent swamping you into her heavy, sweaty squirrelscenting. You -need- to smell like her, to spend your day ahead still soaked in dizzying memory of SigilScent, just like she will need to cling to the feel of your warmth, your fur under her many paws, your heavy nuts nuzzled up over her nosebridge, the thought of your mouth against her mouths, and the way you feel cuddled entirely up around multitudes of herself, enjoying you from every angle and position at once. ~

Balros
After passing out and sleeping for a full day after his utter compression, condensation, and corruption by his massive squirrel lover, he slowly wakens. At least, his mind awakens in your body, merged with his, unaware that all that you are is now his and him. He only groggily notices how much bigger and taller he seems to be, how much more weight and girth his extraordinarily thickened body seems to be. Paying little notice to how his breasts and belly wobble, how his sheaths sway about, how his huge balls are too fat to fit between huge semiferal legs but are too full to drag on the floor. The bedroom doorframe is cracked wider as he passes us through it. The whole apartment is thick with a dense purple fog of fuckrut musk. Three heads on our shoulders and the two that are you on either side of his still loll with squirrel unconsciousness. He makes his way to the kitchen, finding the fridge barren, and also broken. Ordering food...the phone becomes slimy in greasy, sweaty, oversized squirrelpaws. He can barely speak into it, chittering nonsensically until there's the promise of a delivery if only his voice will stop transforming the staff.