Sigil oooof ~ A successful outcome, in its way! grinds, slurps and kisses all that dancesweatmusk off you, workin it into herselves. <3 Balros The thickbodied musksquirrel leans back so fucking sweatily, grease down to the root of his inches-thick fur. Repeatedly he's whumped and bludgeoned by your breasts and big bloated bellygut. He's so goddamned corruptive that a second set of balls WHUMPF into your sac, and he can smell your launch into another hyperpuberty. Sigil 's fur furrows thicker and greaser and wilder, billowing out from her heavy-packed pubis and underarms, growing wild from her sweatiest, muskiest coners as she devours your scent and your love, throbbing and gushing celebratory streamers of cum to soak your mussied fur further as she grinds and covets all over you. Long tongues drag up your necks and jawlines, all kisses and adoring oos as she pulls you into her company and trills sweetly. "You are all so beautiful." One Sigil sighs warmly. "We love getting lost in every one of you so much." Groans the other, splitting one yawning sex onto a squirrelcock and plunging deep. Balros The thick strands of pubic and pit hair are dark and their sheer bushy sight and stench make him -chitter- and grunt in hormonal response, his nuts dropping and swelling again and again as more pairs dent out his sac in bowling-ball strike bursts. Your cum hits him and his gut bloats out, followed by tits somehow bigger than -yours- and plumped roundfy ful. Your tongues - ah - their raspy slurps rip his heads apart into more minds to endure you, more heads to inhale you, more boyherms to become buttery bitchsluts at your profound size and sweet scent. A second and third pink plump tailhole bloats his bottom wide open, billowing gas or bottoming out over your erections, sometimes both. His shafts, throbbing and splitting twice as big and thrice as many per sheath, jam themselves into ovaries and impregnate them as well, squirrels hardcoding into genetics. Sigil , fatter and wider, megathrusting hips and billowing bottoms to support her three-wide overstuffed sheaths, quad and hexa loaded sacs bouncing ahead of steaming cauldera-hot sexes roiling with her multitudes need to breed and spawn. Powerful hands and paws spreading your cheeks to drag her tongues up your slits and puffy undertails as they sprout into being, plunging your musky depths to ready you for intense, ravenous breedings of your own as her throbbing, greasy cocks pile into you one by one, ravaging every hole in a helpless need to intensify the brutal rutneed rippling through all of us. Soft, heavy guts billowing out against your backs as she breeds, or bounce newfound heavysoftstrong weight sweatily atop you as she plunges. We are one and many, and our multitudes turn in form and function to COPULATION. The only way to welcome you home, to stuff our walls with ourselves, and our love. ~ Balros Howling, chittering squirrelboys bounce themselves up and down your immense sheaths, overeager to cram their contents into as many or as deep of fuckholes that can fit them. Or be stretched, filled to fit. The few of him that are a few feet away and just staring at the shapes of your balls find them enough to jack off to, battering your body with more of his blastspunk. A lot of it soaking into a lot of your tail or assflesh, deep beneath your greasy fur. The Balros between your buttcheeks can't -stop- cumming, only ejaculating more and harder as growing squirrelclones shove down your sexes past his pricks anyway. Their black eyes, sometimes several pairs of them, blink with feral intensity and surge larger in powerful pumps of fuckherm puberties, too. A slap of bellygut bloating against any part of him is enough for him to cum a whole new evolution of needs. The latest brand of mutative fucksquirrels that dislodge from his own rumps leap upon any other's faces, his or yours or siblings, and violently grow huge plump curves like an inflating car air bag. Faces chitter and contort until their eyes dim to dark instinct and the only thought that exists is to rut. Sigil are huge, fat, horny animals. Love is lust and lust is love. There's little else in her minds but for the need to breed and impregnate and suck and fuck. And you all are the only targets in her sex-dominated minds, obsession and attraction and horny, chittering fucklust the only thing roiling over her laser-focused feral mindscapes. Fattened and hedonistic, hairy and musk-dripping, she feeds her throbs into you until litters burst into your guts, and guzzles your flesh until she tastes your cum, your sweat, until it tears into her bodies and makes her More, and makes more of Us to fuck and grow dark eyed and feral anew. love bites and scratches and heavy, seed-stuffed guts are the tokens of our marriage, endless trains of horny squirrelbeasts eating each other out, teasing forth more limbs and sweaty nuts and throbbing nipplecocks to further reciprocate even more needy lusts and start the cycle anew. Lost to our orgy, we press our flesh together, our tongues entwine, hips rutting forward to bury ourselves deep in ourself. And oh, the chittering coitus that builds to crescendo, when we know this is how we belong, and what we can always, easily descend/ascend to and ache for. ~ ~ ~