[center][b]Customizing a Cock[/b][/center]

[center]By Kaydrien Iceclaw[/center]



Rich had been sitting here for a few hours now, leafing through the catalogue. He was putting things off, really. The bulky chipmunk was beginning to be uncomfortable. 

(And yes, there were big chipmunks. He might not have the height or heft of a big draft horse, for example, but Rich was at the very top of the bell curve for a [i]Tamias striatus[/i] anthro. He could loom over a small lion… barely.)

It was an extensive catalogue. At the very front there were the common options. Horsecock was always in for the size-conscious with money to spend and no squeamishness for self-modification. Then there was adding size without any change in shape of course. 

Knots were popular. Rich wondered about that sometimes. Was it because they could enforce a good cuddle without having to be so ‘unmanly’ as to ask for it? The way they swelled up? Maybe they pressed up nicely against a prostate or clit. He supposed he couldn’t really knock any of those reasons.

Changing from a cock to a vag was widespread too, either for those whose birth sex didn’t match their self-image or wanted the title of cuntboi. Though the latter was apparently becoming more controversial for reasons that escaped the sciurid. That was mostly a different catalogue, with the exception of one page here to catch the eye of anyone interested. 

Then a couple more pages showing off the ways you could have both sets. One photo of a cunt nestled [i]between[/i] a modest pair of balls, effectively making the testicles and scrotum into an extra-thick set of pussy lips, was intriguing. It put the nuts in a position to be heartily punished by the [i]slam-slam-slam[/i] of crotch against crotch if you were into that. For a little extra one could have your gonads reinstalled deeper inside, substituted on the outside with silicone replicas that would not have the nerves to mind being crushed a bit when the new female canal was in use.

That made a nice transition to some of the less-usual packages. Barbs for furs with feline lovers, or sadism-masochism play. Nubs and bumps and ripple effects. Some of those would probably feel pretty damn nice, Rich thought. Size reduction, either for practicality or to feel pleasurably humiliated, was fairly inexpensive. Likewise for some exotic piercings. 

By contast, a set of metal rings that sat inside your skin, advertised to pull back and slide back and forth while the cock was in use cost a lot. Ostensibly because of the thorough surgery needed to keep that from being out and out unpleasant, plus the need for custom-made metal bits. Like being an entire set of anal beads and a hard cock at the same time. That might be worth it, to the right fur.

There was even one where you could quite literally convert your junk into a set of fleshy butt-beads. It made Rich curious how that would feel. Not able to hump in at all, but instead being pushed inch by separate inch inside. Then pulling out one by one…

Tempting. Drastic, but tempting. Especially with the promise of augmented sensitivity to make cumming during the act a near-certainty.

That wasn’t what he was here for though.

What he had returned to, again and again and again for nearly two hours now, was waaaaaaay back toward the end of the catalogue. He’d dreamed about it. Simulated in his imagination, as close as he could, what such a modification would allow. Idly mentioned the idea to Sam, his boyfriend and then some of four years, enough to sound him out. But not so much as to risk being asked if he intended to actually do it. 

Rich knew that was stupid of him. Sam would completely support him through anything he really wanted, anything in this or any catalogue in the clinic, up to and including having everything removed to leave a bare-but-exquisitely-sensitive patch between his legs. (Another thing he had noticed while leafing through.)

But, if he did this, or possibly [i]when[/i] he did this, the chipmunk wanted it to be a surprise to the mole. He just needed to work up the courage to go over to that desk, with the ocelot receptionist behind it blithely pretending to be doing paperwork instead of a crossword while she also pretended not to notice the oversized rodent stalling in the waiting room.

In the end lust chipped in to make him come to his feet, the need to fulfill his fantasy adding itself to inadequate courage to carry him over to the front desk.

“I want this one. With add-on C.” Rich’s voice managed not to waver too much, but stopped short. He had to gather up all that remained of his self-control to finish his statement out. “A-and E, too, if that’s possible.”

“All right.” She looked at the catalogue page, making a note on the PC in front of her. Her complete and utter nonchalance made Rich feel almost worse, somehow, about being so worked up over this. Surely it was [i]just[/i] having his junk radically modified, nothing at all to get worked up about like a sissy… or so her casual calmness made him feel, for a split second. The cat typed away for a minute while the tall, buff, stripy-backed man tried not to shake too obviously in his green polo shirt and jeans on the other side of the counter, then glanced back up at him. “And yeah, says here you can get an E on top of a C. This is pretty extreme, y’know.”

“Yeah.” He whispered, unable to meet the gaze of a cat easily half his mass.

“You’re pretty brave for a tree mouse.” Her comment startled him out of his daze, making him look back into her face. She was looking at him with a mix of professional impassivity, humor, and perhaps just a hint of awe. 

“…Yeah.” Rich drew his shoulders square, standing a little taller. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get this package before.” The ocelot- Cindy by her name badge- added, smiling at his show of confidence. Or possibly at the pun she couldn’t help but make day after day. Suddenly she was the shy one. “You’ll have to let me know how it feels on your follow up. I’ve… looked over the female version, a few times. Not the same really, but-”

“Sure.” He nodded back to her, feeling much better in a wave of relief. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

[center]***[/center]

One reason this clinic had been at the top of Rich’s list was that they didn’t insist on a long waiting period. That came with a few extra liability forms to sign, but it was a fair trade. If he’d had a week to think and ponder and marinate in his own anxiety, he probably would have talked himself out of it. Then, he knew, he would have come back and signed up again a month later. Maybe chickened out again. He knew he wanted this, it was just a matter of taking the plunge so he didn’t overthink.

As it was, he still had to wait an hour, sit through a thorough explanation of exactly what would be done (absorbing none of it through his jitters) and face down the final loaded question: ‘Are you certain? This is a rather extensive procedure, and it can be expensive and time-consuming to reverse. Even in that case, it is possible that there may be complications preventing a complete reversal.’

Rich was sure. He told them to go ahead, and the faster the better. He’d had plenty of time to think while he saved up for this in the first place. About two and a half slick gaming rig’s equivalent in cash, and it would be worth it.

Then it was one more signature, and off to the operating table. The chipmunk didn’t take in much of the clinic after that first stay in the waiting room beyond a blur of medical industry approved green and cream walls, shiny tile, and bright lights, but the breathing mask for the anesthetic stuck with him. Clear, egg-shaped in outline, inflatable pad-thing to seal around his mouth and nose.

After that, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or remembering. If the gas was doing its job, it should have been just a fevered imagining his mind cooked up afterward in the haze of the recovery room, but it felt real. Rich preferred to think of it as a real memory.

“Aaaand count back from 100 by sevens…”

“One hundred, ninety-three… eighty-six…. Uh, seventy-nine….. seventy…. Two….” Rich struggled to hold onto the number, and enough control of his vocal chords to keep going. He only managed to think the words ‘sixty-five’, and then he was just a spectator, head tipped up enough that he could see his hard junk soften under the influence. As much nervousness as he had come in with hadn’t been enough to suppress his excitement about one of his lewdest fantasies coming true, but the happy-gas had managed to shut up the former and at least the physical representations of the latter.

“Hah. Told you he’d make it past eighty.” That was the wolf. Rich thought his name was Dr Simmons. “You’re paying for drinks tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just never seen a rodent last past seven-nine on this mix.” A skinny finch, the other surgeon- Dr Edgars?- huffed back through his surgical mask. His feathers were a pink-red with muddy tones around his face, contrasting with the white protective gear.

“He’s a big guy. Down here too…” Fondling the softened, humanoid-style shaft, which was a hint under seven inches, Simmons’ tone seemed a bit wistful. Rich had always been a shower, not a grower. He thought he was actually just a fraction [i]shorter[/i] hard, if that was possible. The floppy length was poking out from under the surgical sheets covering the rest of his body at the moment. It was surreal, with him being only able to dimly feel the manhandling. “Really big.”

His coworker held a shiny sterile measuring tape against it, clicking his beak under his mask. “Maybe a little above normal for his body size. We mostly get guys who started off short-changed, remember?”

“Seems like a shame to ruin it.” Withering under the bird’s glare, the wolf verbally backtracked and fumbled for something out of Rich’s field of view. “Okay, not ruin, it just seems like a shame not to be doing some texture work or a knot when we’ve got so much to work with.”

“There will be some texture as a side effect. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll like it just fine.” Edgars chirped back, relenting on the nonverbal ire. He carefully wiped off the limp penis with a sterilizing wipe, turning it this way and that critically. The chill of the sanitizer cut through the chipmunk’s numbness a little bit, evaporation cooling the sensitive skin. “It’s not that different than what I get out of things.”

“You could always get a cock if you wanted.” Simmons pointed out. He had brought a narrow steel rod into view. The instrument glistened with some sort of clear gel in the harsh overhead light. The sight of it made the doctors’ surgical subject shudder a little internally with arousal. Voice light, he kept talking while he lined up the metal with Rich’s urethra, as if he had said this a hundred times before. “Employee discount and all that.”

“No thanks. I am just fine being on the receiving end.” Edgars said. He held the penis still while the thin, smooth, chilly metal slid easily right into the chipmunk’s prick, straightening the organ out as it went. Rich’s mind filled in the details of the muffled sensation eagerly, making his cock plump almost imperceptibly. “Speaking of. You up for fucking me senseless later?”

“Always. I still think you’re missing out by not trying out the giving end.” The wolf shot back playfully. He pulled out a needle from somewhere and poked it without ceremony into the side of the shaft, injecting something rapidly before pulling it back out to do the other side. His semiconscious patient was abruptly glad for the sense-muffling drug he was inhaling, which muted anything he might have felt from that to a soft tingling that radiated out from the injection sites.

“You know you love my cloaca. Besides, that would mean you taking it. I don’t think hell’s frozen over yet.”

“Oh, I dunno. I’d be willing to give it a try, I think. Hand me that scalpel.”

Rich lost a little bit of time then, but from the shine on that little knife he didn’t really want those minutes back. Even if he couldn’t have felt anything, it would probably have been off-putting. When he started tracking events again, the finch was putting the last stitch in a remarkably small incision near the base of his still soft penis. 

The shaft looked different. Still held straight by the metal rod down his urethra, it was nonetheless not as curved. The organ was more tubular. More circular in cross section. And going by appearance and the chemically-padded physical sensations, the sound seemed to be running right through the middle, rather than along the front. Accordingly, his urethra was more dead-center on his glans, which was less backswept and more regularly hemispherical than it had been.

Step one, finished. He had an even distribution of cockmeat around the diameter of the passage through his dick.

“There’s the hard part done.” Edgars remarked offhandedly.

“Always gives me the willies.” His colleague shuddered theatrically, painting an opaque blue cream over the length of stitching. He placed a concave metallic object over it, and hit a switch off to the side that sent a white-hot buzzing through that patch of flesh for an instant. The gizmo was removed, and the cream wiped off to reveal that- Oh. That was interesting enough to pique the chipmunk’s muted interest. The stitches were still in his skin, but the wound they had been holding shut was mostly gone.

“I thought it made [i]your[/i] willie hard.” All casual offhandedness, the finch was trimming open the stitches he had just made with a tiny pair of scissors, careful not to cut the new skin. He pulled out each little stitch individually, which lengthened the row of tiny pinpricks Rich could now see running all the way from his cockhead to the base now. They must have done his entire cock a bit at a time, rearranging its flesh centimeter by centimeter from top to bottom.

“And that. It’s just a little weird too.” The wolf said, pulling out a tube of a different, yellowish gel which he started to apply carefully to the outside of the steel-sounded penis (a cocksicle on a stick, Rich thought to himself, and giggled internally), starting just under the head. “You know, I just realized something.”

“Put it on a little bit thicker. We need the corpus erect, and we need the meds to penetrate too.” Edgars had stepped away, working on something else off to Rich’s right that he couldn’t see and couldn’t turn his head to look at. “What did you realize?”

“It’s basically our job to violate the bro codes for money.” Simmons chuckled, not changing anything about the way he meticulously brushed the stuff onto the skin of the shaft, as far as his subject could tell. “And I’m putting on plenty, don’t worry.”

“The what now?” Coming back with some sort of intricate metal and plastic tube. The thing looked something like a pocket pussy, or fuckable sleeve, if one was made for the set of a sci-fi tv series. A little on the short side, maybe six inches, open at both sides. Had a row of blinking blue lights down the side.

“You know. The Bro Code.” Lifting the penis by the rod through its central passage, he started on coating the other side. “The unwritten laws of being a dude. Bros before hoes. Barbecue is awesome. Don’t kick, stab, or mangle another guy’s manly bits, because holy fuck that hurts.”

“They ask for it, and we put them under first.” Edgars muttered dubiously, fiddling with the settings on the gadget, and plugging a wire into the side. “Isn’t that first one sexist?”

“Only if you assume hoes are exclusively chicks.” Simmons replied without missing a beat. “Okay, We’re ready for the Bumperizer.”

“It’s a Fleshsculpt Cellular Remodeling Device™.” Corrected the bird amiably. He flicked open some clasp on the side, opening it like a tubular clamshell and settling the thing over their surgical patient’s shaft before clasping it shut again. It wasn’t quite as long as the penis it closed around, so his head poked out like the sheepish end of a mushroom kebab. Rich felt that it had some sort of ridges on the inside, which dug into his cock at regular intervals. 

That also pressed him tight around the sound embedded in his urethra deliciously. If he hadn’t been steadily hardening under the influence of whatever was in that ointment, he probably would have gotten a woody from that, anesthetic or no. 

Rich liked having something inside his cock. That was why he was here.

“’Bumperizer’ is easier to say though.” Obviously both doctors had had this argument with enough regularity to make it a private joke, because it went on for some time while they fiddled with it, tweaking the placement of the FCRD on his hardness, tightening and loosening it to some sequence dictated by the lights on the side going on and off.

Finally, when that was arranged to their satisfaction, the wolf slid a sort of dome-cap over the end of it which fixed to the end of the sound still inside, and flipped one of the switches. Something, some magnet or ultrasonic in the base of the device made the inside end of the sound whirr or vibrate, pulling centered to the device around the meat housing it, and the whole contraption squeezed.

The ridges, or whatever it was in there, pressed against him in rings. Hard. It didn’t hurt (more than a tiny bit) but Rich felt his flesh squish in a way it was definitely not meant to under usual circumstances. Like clay more than hard erect flesh. The device squeezed and squeezed and kept going, strangling him around the hard steel that kept his urethra open while the penis around it was reshaped. It moved up and down inside its casing as if to jerk him off but with no hope of fighting through the combined strangeness of the sensation, anesthesia, and half-centimeter of steel clogging him.

It still felt better than it had any right to. Not least because he knew he was getting altered, [i]just[/i] how he always wanted to. 

It went on for a few blurry eternities while the doctors chatted about the weather, golf, whatever it was doctors talked about. Rich did not climb toward climax, not with all the hindrances in the way, but he definitely meandered about halfway up that lofty peak and circled around it a few times.

Then the FCRD beeped, and stopped.

“Already? Guy must respond really well.” Simmons walked back over, pulling off the cap. It took with it the sounding rod, pulling smoothly out of the flesh that had been literally remolded around it and making the chipmunk wish he could have moaned in protest. He felt bereft. Empty.

Evidently not for long though.

“Good. Here’s the stretcher.” The bird hefted a bulky device into view, the end shaped much like the cap his colleague had retrieved but with much more machinery on the end. It looked like a pneumatic tube. Rich thought it was, out of a hazy remembrance of the explanation he had received earlier. The doctor was pouring some clear lubricating gel into the open end.

“Don’t you mean the Fleshsculpt Internal Reshaper Attachment™?”

“Smart aleck.” It fixed to the end of the other device easily, clicking as the parts mated. Edgar flicked a vial of some red fluid into a slot on the side, checked an LED readout, and pressed a button before lowering the hefty device to rest on the chipmunk’s stomach. “All right, that’s the last part.”

“Set it to 025XC?” Simmons was pulling off his gloves to reveal his gray-furred hands, which looked too delicate to go with his voice. The finch stiffened, reddish feathers poofing out a bit.

“Um. Ooops. 025XD.” Edgars trilled sheepishly. He reached back to the device quickly, diving for the button, but when he pressed it nothing happened. Or at least, nothing that wasn’t happening already with a hiss and a hum. Something, something with a rounded conical point, was pressing coldly against the head of Rich’s cock. “….Dang. Too late.”

“Well…” The wolf leaned over, peering at the display on the machine. Inside, an unreasonably wide piece of some smooth material was working its way into the chipmunk’s prick, unalterably on its way to remold Rich’s maleness further. It popped in, with a feeling as if the shaft of the FCRD was pulling the flesh around the hole open to allow it. “…It’s 025XD right? That’s barely a change. Hell, he probably won’t even notice unless we point it out, and anyone who did would thank us for the bonus by the time they were done with him.”

“True.” Agreement came hesitantly, but after a moment Edgars nodded his feathered head. “We should tell him when me wakes up, still, but… I think the paperwork covers it. Just thank fuck I didn’t hit 025XF, that would be different enough to be a problem.”

If Rich hadn’t had the happy gas muddling him, he would have been screaming to ask what the hell the bird had just done, or possibly in bliss at being stretched open so wide. It felt like the blunt end of the device was an inch in and climbing, and by touch it seemed absolutely huge. That was enough to feel as a pleasurable pressure in his dick, preceded by a squishy dollop of pre that was pushed along ahead. Absolutely wonderful, even if it did end up doing something he hadn’t expected. 

Didn’t stop him from wishing he could ask (assuming that this was real and not something he was dreaming up in the recovery room).

“Oh yeah. ‘F’ would be an issue. Lawsuit material for sure.” Simmon’s head bobbed. He pulled off his surgical mask with a sigh of bliss. The half-anesthetized chipmunk agreed with the sentiment if not the reason; the thing in his cock was easily halfway in, and he was loving it. It felt different with the cockflesh all the way around it and stretching pleasantly to let it deeper, even more intimate than any sounding sessions he’d had. “’D’ is… What, just getting a little free extra?”

“Yeah.” Edgars’ shoulders relaxed into a slump. “You know you’re not supposed to take off the mask yet right?”

“Eh, bite me. The machine is sealed on his junk, everything was closed off even before we put that on. No medical need, not part of the clinical guidelines, and by any reasonable definition we’re past the open surgery bit.”

“Carl’s still gonna chew you out when he reviews the video record.” 

Rich wasn’t really listening. The thing inside him must have been all the way to his base by now, a mix of pleasure-discomfort while it pulled the passage wider than it was meant to go. He would swear he felt some of the over-generous lube it pushed ahead of it squirt backwards through his prostate into his bladder.

“Carl can bite me too.” The wolf scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Actually, do you think I could get him to actually bite my ass? That would be so hot.”

“Doubt it. I think he’s totally straight. Hot enough to be worth a try tho-“

Edgars stopped abruptly, interrupted by a soft wheeze that managed to force through Rich’s vocal chords. Once the thing in [i]his[/i] thing had come to a complete stop, something had changed a little near the end. It prickled inside him, little points of white-hot nerve stimulation. And all down the length felt like it was warming up. The wheeze could have been pleasure or pain, as neither and both fit the sensations.

The bird reached over and tweaked a nozzle on his face mask. “Think he might have been starting to come out of it. A little more is within safety limits, easy. Just gotta watch the vitals. Anyway. Carl? Yeah, let’s bring him to the bar later and see if-“

Rich didn’t really remember anything after that, not until after he was sure he was in the recovery room.

[center]***[/center]

About an hour after waking up entirely- long enough for a cab ride, not long enough for all the wooziness to wear off, a knock sounded on the apartment door before the arrival let themselves in.

“Hi, Ritchie!” The cheerful greeting sailed out to the main room from the hall. The apartment was large enough to spread out a little bit, with the living room immediately inside the doorway. Sectioned off on the right was the kitchen, and past that was the hall to the other rooms. 

Still wavering a little, and stepping carefully not to jostle his new and improved junk too much- it felt strange, the way it shifted in his underwear- Rich made his way into that hall. Nothing else interested him too much at the moment. “Hey babe.”

“You know, when you said you were taking the day off-“ The cheery baritone of Sam led him on, toward the computer/work room. “-I kinda assumed you would be around.”

He winced a little as he leaned himself against that door. Yes, he had mentioned to Sam he would be off work today. He nudged the door open a little. “Sorry. You took a day off too?”

“Well, yeah.” Sam, a bit on the short side, was a black-furred mole with a pointy face. Currently the chipmunk’s boyfriend was staring intently at some complex display on his desktop screen, dressed in a t-shirt and boxers. A bowl of chips and a water bottle flanked the keyboard. One of his strategy gaming sprees, evidently. “Thought we could spend the day together. But then you weren’t there when I got up.”

“Sorry.” Rich repeated, shuffling forward to ruffle the fur at the top of the smaller mammal’s head. “I should’ve been more specific.”

“No prob. I needed a break anyway, and if I can just crack this one artillery emplacement, I’ll beat my record.” The mole didn’t look up from his screen, engaged in some complex mental arithmetic. “Just need to figure out how to hit that and the storm squad at the same time-“

That was Sam. He could become very intensely focused, even obsessive, at times. But he was a real sweetheart under the surface. The timing of today’s round of pinpoint tunnel vision was a little bit awkward, but Rich thought he could get his lover’s attention. He’d been thinking about exactly how to do so for days now.

Satisfying himself that it looked like one of the turn-based games, something that wouldn’t hurt to interrupt, he then leaned forward over Sam. Kneeled to nuzzle into that silky black head fur, he looped one hand around the front of Sam’s chest and trailed the other down his front, gliding down over the front of the boxers to press gently.

“Well… If you wouldn’t mind coming to the bedroom…” Rich glanced at the clock. About three thirty. Perfect. “I could show you how sorry I am for making you wait.”

“Maybe in a bit. I’m in the groove.”

Rich sighed. He groped Sam’s crotch a little harder, and dropped his head to the side to nibble at the mole’s neck gently. That got him to look away from the screen for an instant, long enough for Rich to give him The Look.

“I think you can get back into the groove tomorrow. I think you want to see what I’ve been up to.” He put every ounce of husky seduction into his voice that he could, to set the hook.

“What you’ve been up to?” Sam asked, obliging and just a hint skeptical. He was trying not to glance back at the screen until after Rich stopped The Look. It would have been rude to game while he was being seduced.

“I’m not telling.” The buff chipmunk sing-songed into his lover’s ear. “You’ll just have to come find out.”

The mole cracked like an egg under that sweet pressure.

“Give me five minutes to wrap up?”

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting.”

[center]***[/center]

When Sam walked into the bedroom (ten minutes later, but Rich already knew that ‘five’ always turned into ‘ten’), his boyfriend was set up exactly as he had been planning for weeks now. The ripped ‘munk was reclined back lazily on three pillows, washboard abs and perfect pecs on display, legs lazily bent to cross at the shin. The mole whistled appreciatively.

“Oooh, now that is nice. But you’re hiding the best bits.” He gestured with his digging-claw tipped hands at the throw pillow propped over Rich’s waist. A hint of overdone counterfeit hurt crept into his voice, but the way his boxers started to tent undermined that. “And what’s that got to do with leaving me all alone this morning?”

“Get rid of this pillow, and you’ll see.” Rich thought it was just as well he had used up all his nervousness this morning. Now, tired out and still just a little soft-edged from the anesthesia, he could muster a fantastic seductive nonchalance.

No doubt expecting some exotic lingerie, or an inventive sex toy, the mole trundled forward. He was easily a head and a half shorter than his main squeeze, and less built. Absolutely adorable though, in a nerdy way. Maybe Rich would get him some prop glasses to enhance the effect, sometime. 

The moment of truth. One black-furred and blunt-clawed hand came to rest on the throw pillow and tossed it aside. And a moment later, a mole jaw dropped in amazement.

“Remember how I said I always wondered about having some work done?” Rich sat on the impulse to babble, unwilling to betray any uncertainty. “What do you think?”

Under the pillow, Rich’s manhood had been reforged. What had been a pretty standard, if generous, humanoid penis (slightly curved shaft, mushroom head, circumcised, smooth except for the veins), it was now something much more unusual. His cock was wider around than it had been, but only in places. It rippled, widening and narrowing slightly in corrugations about a centimeter and a half wide so that it was about a centimeter thinner at the narrow intervals than the thick portions, in rounded waves. At its thickest it was perhaps one and a half inches. 

And the head, that was a more regular dome shape than it had started out. Not backswept toward his belly, more a regular round mushroom cap form. In the center instead of a tiny hole for the passage of fluids was a slit, wide as a fingernail and shining in the reflected light of a generous dollop of pre that rolled down the shaft’s front as Sam watched.

The whole was a bit shorter than it had been, squashed for the overall greater girth, and perhaps a smidge under six inches. But it was expanding to something like its previous length under the arousal of showing off to the man Rich loved, an impassioned red against his white belly fur.

“Whoa.” Sam blinked his beady eyes. To his lover’s satisfaction, the bulge in his paisley patterned boxers grew in a little surge. He reached forward, gently prodding one of the valleys in the now irregular shaft and making it leap in response, pulling longer like an accordion to its full seven inches. “That- Today? All today?”

“Yep.” Rich answered smugly. He had Sam’s full attention now. Now, he was going to be the focus of that wonderful intense scrutiny. “They’re pretty damn good at it. Go ahead, feel.”

Feel Sam did, rubbing the smooth back of one of his claws over the soft ridges. The [i]bump-bump-bump-bump-bump-bump-bump[/i] of contact made Rich shudder slightly, newly rearranged nerves insisting that the mole had to be rapidly and regularly flicking his clawback against his skin at even intervals. Friction made it flop forward slightly, swaying and curving in the air where it bent slightly after the first inch of the base. Sam grasped it in soft palms, waving it this way and that.

“It’s a little soft.” Remarked the mole thoughtfully. “Will it still…?”

“The doc told me it would still work fine if you want it in your ass. With a little extra lube.” Rich’s cock seeming to be making up for the period of lost sensitivity, which made the contact extremely distracting. His length was compressing slightly at the narrow points as it bent, the thinner flesh there unable to manage quite the same rigidity as it had used to. “But that’s not the big deal. Try touching here.”

He wobbled one unsteady finger to point at his stretched urethral opening, another surge of pre forcing its way out in seeming eagerness to show off.

Sam blinked at him again, and looked between the chipmunk’s face and his exotic altered maleness. Finally, after three circuits back and forth, he pulled his mouth closed enough to turn his expression into an incredulous smile. “No way.”

Rich just smiled back, watched as one of those carefully rounded-off digging claws poked at his head while Sam’s other hand held his length steady. He pressed- and the urethra opened up smoothly around the keratin extremity, welcoming first its smooth surface, then one knuckle, then two knuckles, and then Sam’s whole finger into his cock.

“Oh [i]weird![/i] This is awesome.” He wiggled the digit inside Rich’s penis, letting go of the outside to watch the whole thing wobble slightly around him in soft-hardness while the chipmunk gasped and groaned. “I think the thick parts are squeezing me. Are those [i]muscles[/i] in there?”

“Y-yeah I think.” Shuddered Rich. “It’s a l-little bit of a last minute extra I got.” 

[i]Thank you Dr Edgar, you clumsy glorious bastard.[/i] At least the guy had copped to setting the machine wrong after the drugs had worn off. Once he had had an explanation of just what had happened, the ‘wronged’ patient had been very happy to sign the liability release form. [i]If I’d known you could get that on top of what I’d already asked for, I’d have had to save up another five hundred bucks for it.[/i]

“I didn’t even know all of this was possible, dude.” No sign whether Sam actually caught any of Rich’s words. He was staring at the cock, stroking the outside while he penetrated its middle with his velvet furred finger. “Holy shit.”

“You can look into- ah!” The mole found a particularly sensitive spot inside, and was tapping against it with the tip of his rounded claw. Rich had to grab him by the hands and keep him from going on with the inside and out handjob. “Look into it later. Hell, get some tweaks of your own later if you want, I’ll help you pick, but right now you’re missing something important.”

“What?” It wasn’t fair how Sam could do that adorable, confused puppy look even with such beady black eyes and pointy nose. Especially how he didn’t have any external ears to scratch behind. Rich always had to settle for scratching behind the earholes, and that always felt just a little bit off.

“You can fit more than a finger in there.” The muscular chipmunk pulled his boyfriend to him, shoving them mouth to mouth for a deep tongue-wrestler of a kiss before pulling back. His heavy panting need filled the air. “I want more in there. I want you in me. I want you in me [i]now[/i] before I cum just from knowing that now you can [i]fit[/i]. Not just fiddle around a sounding rod.”

Sam thought that over for a few milliseconds. Rich, in his current mood, didn’t have the patience for that long a deliberation.

“Get your damn underpants off right now and [i]fuck my cock![/i]” He snarled his need into the mole’s startled face. Not waiting for an instant to let his boyfriend actually comply he was already gripping the abominable paisley waistband, pulling at it even before Sam could get involved. He might have heard the fabric rip under their combined urgency. 

Neither of them cared by this point. Rich didn’t even look at the hard molecock as he lined them up in a frenzy. Of course, he didn’t need to. He could have drawn an accurate sketch of it from memory. Unlike himself, Sam’s member was a throwback to a feral moles; a smooth, even taper that slimmed steadily from base to an implausibly skinny point. Wavy like an Indian kris-knife. 

The pause to bring cock to cock by feel was a couple eternities too long to the heated pair, now totally on the same page of the book of sexual need. Sam’s narrow point was a blessing here, giving them just the edge their hurry required in finding entrance to the newly widened passage. Maybe, before, they could have gotten just the tip in. But they had always decided not to. It would have been too much, too close to what they actually wanted but so tortuously Not Quite that they had discarded the idea as an intolerable tease with barely more than a handful of words exchanged.

Now, it went in. For the first time, lubed by Rich’s new augmented output of pre, it went in. Smoothly, gently, the taper opening his piss slit up so gradually-roughly in time flowing like molasses that it felt meant to be. Fated. Like his cock was made for this (which, now, it was).

It sent him over the edge, cock spasming and pulsing around its occupant. White cream spurted out around the welcome intruder, spraying out through the constricted half-blocked passageway against the two-thirds of mole cock still left outside and spattering Sam’s groin and balls.

“S-stop!” Rich wailed, too sensitive to take more and too needy to be happy about that. He had Sam by an iron grip on the mole’s hips, keeping his lover’s own spasms from humping him into the welcoming opening that pulled and clutched around him. The new muscles were squeezing rhythmically, then irregularly, still working out what their patterns of response to incredible first-time fullness and pleasure ought to be.

“Trying.” Eyes glazed in concentration, Sam stared down at his lover, pulling him in for another passionate kiss while his uncooperative hips and legs kept trying to push him in against Rich’s strength. It felt fantastic, tight and loose all at once. He thought the thinner walls of the valleys in the new cock were expanding, more elastic, while the thick parts hugged at him. Did that mean the thin parts would be visibly bulging out even more around him? 

He shuddered into Rich’s mouth at the thought and resolved that he might have to look at that later when he wasn’t sucking face, and unloaded a shot of pre through his own urethra. Judging by how the buff chipmunk’s leverage waivered to let him in another fraction and his tongue froze for a second, he could feel the little fluid addition too.

They stayed that way for a few minutes to allow the sensitivity of orgasm to die down a little bit before pulling away from their upper kiss.

“Fuck that is really-“ Sam looked down, and Rich looked with him. Sure enough, the narrower bits between the rings seemed stretchier, but all of it, all of the part he was inside at least, was visibly bulged out. Accordingly, he amended his statement. “[i]incredibly[/i] hot. Are you ready for me to keep going?”

“Yeah.” The sciurid’s voice shook in a mix of orgasmic aftershock and anticipation. “Yeah. Just go slow. As long as you can.”

“That won’t be very long.” Agreed the mole, and with the loosening of the hold on his pelvis he experimentally pressed further in, watching the flesh open up further around him, thickening to two cock’s width. It was more of an exercise in holding himself as far back as his sexual impulses would allow, sliding inch by marginally wider inch in. He caught slightly on the rim of the chipmunk’s urethra at each direction change of his sine-wave curve of a prick.

Sam was not quite as long as Rich. Not quite as long as he had been, anyway. And slender, only slightly more than an inch wide at the base where he was widest. He had, from time to time, felt insecure about that. Right now it was so obviously perfect for this that he rethought the half-formed idea of earlier to have himself drastically changed. Just a few bumps at most, the better to please the inner side of his lover’s cock, maybe.

The musing carried him on and in, both of them grunting and groaning in satisfied bliss until finally, remarkably, Sam’s sheath kissed the spread-out glans of his lover and they moaned simultaneously. It came with a sense of accomplishment to be spread open so wide around the mole, and likewise to be planted to the hilt in the chipmunk.

“Are those bumps?” Sam asked a little breathlessly. He reached down to give Rich’s bottom inch a gentle exploratory squeeze. Right there it was barely bulged out at all, unlike the turgid red of the tight-stretched tip where it was pulled outward to twice its usual diameter. They moaned together as they felt the textured nubs of the inside rub around Sam’s pointy tip. The sensation drew yet more pre from both, to meet and swirl warmly inside the tight, quivering, irregularly tightening length.

“Yeah. I thought that would feel good for you.” Admitted Rich, as he caressed the silky short fur of his lover’s chest. He had to hook his hand under the death-metal t-shirt neither of them had had the patience to peel off Sam before starting. “Didn’t expect that to feel so good to me too.”

“I’m going to start moving.” Declared the mole. Just a statement of fact, not a request. “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

“Me neither. Go for it.” Already moving, neither of them needed more encouragement than that. Sam drew back an inch that left Rich’s shaft feeling gapingly empty with the extra space even as new muscles pulled him closed behind the molecock’s retreat. Then San drove back in.

It didn’t quite work on the first try. Since it had softened a little after that first orgasm, Rich’s shaft bent at the point where Sam’s cocktip was rather than accepting it back in, but that felt fantastic too. Both of them liked the way it made the wobbly augmented cock pinch at its guest. Something to experiment with later.

There was a wordless agreement that they wanted something else, just now. Sam reached down to grip at the ribbed surface of the outer cock, holding it steady as he pushed in. He savored the ability to feel himself inside, spreading it out. Contractions of the muscles in the rings too were evident to his touch, more inside than out but fascinating to feel as he treated his lover’s penis like a toy sleeve.

He thrust in, pulled out, thrust in again to set a demanding rhythm of cock sex. Hugging the mole to him passionately, Rich took it upon himself to add his own verbal encouragement to the wet repetitive squelching of dick against/inside dick. “That’s it. Do it. I’m close again. Fuck me, fuck my-” Throaty moan, redolent with hormone-soaked lust. “-cock, cum in me, make it so I’ll leak your cum for days, make it so I cum [i]you-[/i]”

The inside of the urethra was tight. Those firm little nubs in the bottom rubbed and squeezed over Sam’s tip every time he bottomed out. All of the shaft was as, or more, reactive than the cleft of any female could have been, clutching and squeezing around him this way and that. (Not that either of them had ever, ever had any interest in females. For that matter, stuffing one cock with another was probably about as gay as anything could get.)

In summary, Sam was nearly beyond his own endurance too. The idea of filling up Rich, pumping him so full that he shot Sam’s cum for days- no, weeks. Months. Put so much cum in him that he never shot his own load again, only [i]Sam’s[/i], and both of them would love every [i]second[/i]-

Well. That didn’t so much push him over the edge as fire him out of a downward-angled cannon toward the bottom of a drained Mariana trench.

He came and came and came, both of them easily able to feel the load bloating out Rich’s urethra. And it didn’t stop, with Sam rubbing back and forth while adding his own squeezes around the outside of the chipmunk’s cockflesh to spur them both on. He kept going for at least an endless minute into his own orgasm, until Rich’s own orgasm sent them both screaming into each other’s mouths, too overstimulated to do more.

The augmented cock carried on for them anyway. Squeezing, pulses of contraction rippling up and down to milk every ounce of seed from the mole’s erection even as both of their loads were mingled, mixed, pumped out in irregular forced globs and spurts around the mole meat to soak Sam’s groin and balls further before the semen dripped, and cascaded down over the nested shafts and wetted Rich as well.

It was like coming out of the anesthesia all over again, except this time it was both of them washing up on the shore out of a sea of pleasure. That analogy was a good one, Rich thought. It captured the need to catch your breath.

“Uuuuhhhhhh.” Sam groaned approvingly, eyes still clamped shut.

Rich reached down, gently prying the mole’s jizz-coated fingers off of his prick. A lot of their combined semen had pooled inside him, making up the difference in width between Sam’s base and tip to bloat him out more uniformly. All at once he squeezed to send it all gushing out around the meaty intrusion. That sent them both shuddering again for a minute, tensed and unable to move lest their nerves be overloaded again.

Sam rolled off of him, to settle in the crook of his arm. Together they stared down at the new change to their bedroom activities, watching white stickiness ooze from the slowly-closing gape of Rich’s expandable cum hole. It was gratifying, how long it took to twitch mostly closed.

“…You’re sure that will still be hard enough to fuck my ass?” The mole had to repeat that, he was difficult to understand through the fucked out exhaustion weighing down their limbs. He came up with an addition on the second try. “’s worth it either way, but I bet those ribs would feel…”

“Doc said they make a metal insert I can put in. For extra stiffness.” Endorphins or not, Rich felt the need to study the inside of his eyelids for a while. It had been a long day. “If I need it, anyway.”

“Cool.” They cuddled in companionable silence for a while before Sam thought of something else. “You know… I bet, when you get soft, I could shove in far enough to poke your prostate from the inside.”

Rich felt his cheeks heat up about a thousand degrees at once. “Sam.”

“Yeah, Ritchie-pie?”

“If you go putting ideas like that in my head, I dunno if I’ll [i]ever[/i] get soft enough to try that.”

He felt the silky geek snuggle harder into his side. “Guess I’ll have to do it from ambush then.”

“I look forward to it.”



[center]The End[/center]