[center][b]Motels and Guests[/b][/center]

[center]By Kaydrien Iceclaw[/center]



It started a couple months ago. I’d been out at the club, and it was a good night. The music was just right, and the crowd- hoo man. It was a good crowd. Everyone was worked up and in the zone. The party zone, I mean. I swear the air was half booze fumes and half congealed horniness, with only enough room for the music.

My favorite part was how everyone was feeling up everyone else on the dance floor. I’m happy to say all kinds of ladies had their hands on me. Guys too. Wasn’t too interested in them, but I’ve been giving that some more thought since then. 

But I can take a compliment. I mean, [i]I[/i] know I’m a sexy stud of an African jackal, but it doesn’t hurt anything to be reminded right?

Anyway, I couldn’t tell you whether I picked her or she picked me. You know how it goes. Either way, at the end of the night I’m walking out of there with this hot little otter babe on my arm. We didn’t feel like going as far as her place or mine. Just shelled out for a cheap motel room and screwed each other’s brains out.

(I think she said her name was Cherry. She had this tattoo to match her name on her right shoulder, the perkiest little boobs, and she was so damn [i]tight[/i]… Highly recommended if you meet her and hit it off.)

As you might have figured out, the sex was pretty damn great. It felt a little unusual, like her pussy was pulling along with my dick half the time. Too good to stop and wonder about that though. And at the end, she rode me a little bit more while I dozed off.

Then the next morning comes with its friend mister hangover in tow. I guess ‘hangover’ might be an overstatement, since I never let myself get totally wasted and always hydrate, but I’ve still felt better. Totally worth it of course. 

Cherry’s gone. No surprise there. Kind of a shame she forgot to leave her number on the bedside table, but I get it. Might be my ego talking, but I like to think a few of the ladies I’ve been with did really forget instead of deciding not to.

So I’m under the sheets thinking about her and of course I’m getting hard. Call it half morning wood and half happy memories. Figuring I might as well start my morning off right, I reach down there to get off before finding breakfast and get a hell of a shock.

Because what I feel down there doesn’t [i]feel[/i] like my cock. It’s in the right place and kinda the right shape and I have no idea what else could be there (yet) but it’s not my cock. It’s smooth and a little bit slimy and there’s a sort of ridge and a texture to it that I’ve never run into down there. 

Plus, the sensation isn’t the same from the other side as having a hand on my dick. Not totally different, either. The feeling is hard to describe. Like wearing a thin condom in some places, except not. Pressure feels different, friction feels more like a tingle… Never mind. I’ll find a good description some day. For now, just know that it was weird and unexpected.

I threw off the sheets to see what the heck was going on with my junk, and that’s when I really start to freak out. Because it doesn’t look like my dick either. Again, it’s in the right place and obviously erect and roughly the right shape, but that’s all.

What’s sticking out of my sheath looks a little like a worm. In the sense that it has those little, whatever you call them. The rings. Segments, yeah, that’s it. The lines that go all the way around. But only on parts of it. There’s a part around the middle where it goes all smooth, but only so that this big thick bulge of a ring can run unevenly through the smooth part. Kinda like that bit on a horsecock, except I think it’s a little higher on the shaft, proportionately. 

And the ‘glans’- sorry, if your school didn’t do anatomy in sex ed, that’s the cockhead some guys have- is this freaky mushroom head shape with a shallow ripple texture and this crinkly bottom edge. It’s so weird having something wider out where I used to have this sort of trowel-shaped point like most dogs. The top is thicker and wider now than the bit just under it and-

Sorry. Getting side tracked. Point is, that’s different. And there’s a sort of bulging line under that running down the front from the hole at the tip downward. Smoother than the head, and it bulges out like a break in the segments until it hits the middle ring and joins that. Like a really bulgy urethra (the piss slit). And there’s a couple round bumps just under that, just under the three-way intersection. 

Under that the shape is almost boring. By comparison, at least. Just that segmented worm texture, all the way down to the knot.

Oh, right, and like I said the overall shape is kind of familiar. I didn’t really notice until much later because I was freaking the hell out, but you can still make out my original cock shape under there. I think the whole thing is sort of over and around my cock, added on. If you look really close you can still sorta see my trademark canine cock-tip in the way the new wrinkly head is flatter on the side toward me. And again, my knot is still there. It just has that wormy texture now, with the segments widened by stretching over it.

The whole thing is a new color to boot. In keeping with the ‘worm’ thing, it’s mostly this grey-pink shade with bits of thin blue vein visible here and there, especially on the bulgy bits. Darker on that weird head.

Now, most of this description I built up later, because right then I was frozen solid. Panic, disgust, whatever. 

Then this bizarre ripple goes up it and I lose my shit. By reflex (stupid, [i]stupid[/i] reflex) I try to grab the monster worm thing that I figure is attacking my sensitive bits and try to yank it off.

I wish I’d taken a moment to realize that I felt that ripple. Or you’d think I would at least figure that since I can’t see my dick, this thing is trying to swallow it. Buuuuuut no. My knee-jerk assumption is that I have some weird monster worm crawling on my stomach. So naturally I try to grab it and pull it off.

Which of course hurts like hell because it [i]is[/i] on my dick, and tight. At this point, I was basically putting all the terror, adrenaline, and arm strength I had into trying to pull off my cock.

Can’t say I recommend that.

After I tried that a few times, since apparently I’m pretty dumb in full freak-out mode, I finally realize that this isn’t working. Plus it hurts like hell but the grotesque invertebrate thing attached to my crotch is a bigger issue, because ‘grotesque invertebrate thing attached to my [i]crotch[/i]’. Enough said.

When I’m finally calmed down enough to stop being completely stupid I move on to denial. I gave it about half an hour of sitting there staring at the ceiling waiting to wake up, and my dick to stop hurting. That’s also the first time I realize I can feel the ripple movement the thing makes now and again but obviously I’m trying not to think about that.

Eventually I can’t believe my own assurances that this can’t be real anymore, so I take another peek downstairs. The textured cockhead is still there. Now, though, it’s poking just out of my sheath. The woody is long gone from fear, but obviously the bulbous thing at the end doesn’t quite fit so it’s just hanging out there in the nest of my fuzzy cock-holster.

Hey, quick favor and side note: Think we can pretend I never used the words ‘cock-holster’ to describe any part of myself? Good, great, thanks.

I poke at it with a finger. Why break with tradition when it comes to investigating weird shit, right? I do it really slow and careful though, because I’m afraid this thing might bite me or something. Which it doesn’t, thank fuck. I’d have probably tried to pull it off again. It just swells a bit and pokes itself out slightly, like my dick would usually do if I poked at my sheath like that. Still feels weird in a I-can-feel-that-but-I-can’t-but-I-can sort of way.

Then I dig a little deeper into my sheath. Still doesn’t hurt, still doesn’t do anything I wouldn’t have expected from my original equipment.

Since nothing seems to be immediately wrong (and by that I mean I thought something has already happened and something else might happen, but wasn’t I get out of bed. Now I’m thinking that I’ll go to the doctor later today.

You might be wondering why I wasn’t going straight to the ER. I’m not 100% sure. Partly I think it was just so damn bizarre that I couldn’t make myself think about it properly. But as for why I didn’t go instantly, that was easy. The drinks from the night before were ready to leave the jackal express.

I walked to the bathroom. Or wobbled. Things were shifting around down there inside my sheath differently than they used to, which made walking almost as weird as the rest of this experience. But I made it, and lucky me; I found out that I still could. 

Like everything else that was strange too. There was this hitch of resistance to the flow and then after that it…

Okay, remember that ridge/bump/canal that I mentioned running down half of the front, from the tip to the ring? The urine made a detour down that, then back up to the piss slit in the head. That was weird. Like it was running along my skin but still inside me too, until it came out. I made a bit of a mess while that distracted me from the fact that the aim was different now too. Considering how the rest of my morning was going I thought I didn’t do to bad, really. I cleaned up.

Then I went to go get groceries. That’s what I already had planned.

Other than the way walking felt different it was a normal morning from there. Veggies, tv dinners, paper towels, milk. Drive home, put things away, have lunch. You know the drill.

It hit me for the second time that I had a worm thing where my cock should be when I was halfway through my sandwich and I felt it ripple again. Didn’t make me flip out the same way I had the first time, but I definitely froze for a while before taking my next bite.

I thought about it for a while. And by that I mean, I sat there staring at the wall while my mind chased itself in circles for about an hour, with the only interruptions being when the thing undulated inside my sheath again once in a while.

When I was done, I’d come to a few conclusions. I figured, given how the sex last night had felt a little odd, make that a lot odd in hindsight, that whatever happened had happened then. Maybe after I passed out with Cherry still on my cock. Which would make this, what? A kind of crazy-ass STD? Made more sense than anything else right now. 

I’ve had one of those before, actually. I can’t for the life of me remember what the doctor called it, but it must not have been too bad compared to some other stuff I could have caught, because all it took was four pills, all at once, and less than a week later the itching stopped. I have been more careful since then, but evidently not enough. You’d think I’d learn. 

The other big thing that had come to me was that I didn’t want to go to a doctor. Sounds stupid in hindsight, but it crossed my mind that they might cut it off. My junk, too. I hope it sounds stupid anyway, I never did go in to get this checked. Probably going to be an awkward conversation when I finally get sick again.

Whether that was likely or not I didn’t really feel like finding out. Nothing hurt, it only felt weird not bad, and I just… wasn’t ready to face it enough to do something about it. So I played video games in my apartment instead and tried not to think about it.

And the next couple days were pretty much normal. Sure, I made a point of not paying too much attention to what I was handling in the bathroom, but other than that it was basically the same. I think it was the next Wednesday when after a long day at work I finally forgot about it enough to reach down there and try to jerk it. Long day, figured I deserved a treat, and it had been like five days by then.

Of course the feel was a pretty big reminder right off the bat. But after a minute of staring at that wormy thing again I decided to go through with it. It worked fine for pissing, and a little squeeze told me it felt okay. It felt weird (damn I’m using that word a lot, but it fits) but okay. There was a limb-fallen-asleep quality to it at first, but as I ran my hand over the front to explore the new shapes it sort of tingled away until I could feel it almost like it was my own skin.

I say ‘almost’ because it’s incredibly hard to describe. I could feel it. It wasn’t my skin. I could feel some of the pressure when I squeezed in a way that felt familiar, with an added second layer of pressing sensation. Rubbing was mapped as a pleasant pricklish warmth plus an echo of something like real feeling.

It worked though. It felt good to run my hand over the wormcock. I found out that the sensitive spots were a little bit different. The ring felt really good, especially at the top and bottom where it met the rest of the shaft. Not as much at the very outer diameter. Same with that canal between my piss slit and its piss slit. I don’t think I can describe the feel of that irregularly rippled head in any detail, except it was sharp in a good way that didn’t make me want to ease up at all.

Those two bumps at the front under my ring weren’t sensitive at all. They were an empty spot in the sensation. At the same time though, when they caught on a finger or pressed one way or another that pull translated into something like a really good stretch. Like when you’ve moved just right and want to hold there for a second to really savor it. Except this was definitely a sexual sort of feeling, and the impulse was to buck my hips instead of holding still.

I was pretty happy with it, all considered. Still looked creepy as fuck, but this... Well. I could see myself eventually thinking of it as [i]my[/i] dick. New and interesting shape, felt great. A little bigger than it used to be too. A bit wider, maybe seven inches instead of six long. A jackal could get used to this.

Problem was I was getting used to it too fast, if anything. The sensations that had started off strong started to weaken even as my stroking over my new ring texture picked up the pace. It didn’t go numb, don’t get me wrong. I could still feel everything. But the sweet hard to describe pleasure I think of as ‘sex’ tapered off to a mild throb as I worked.

In essence, I ended up edging for nearly half an hour. Even ‘edging’ might be too generous a description. I was sitting pretty a few feet from that metaphorical goal and watching it recede to several yards away. Still pleasant enough to want to keep going, just, but not much more than that. I could have just given up on it. Since then I have sometimes, when I wasn’t feeling very needy. 

Right then I didn’t want to give up on an orgasm, because that would mean I’d have to go to the doctor and I still had myself half-convinced it would be chop-chop no more monster dick, regular dick, or anything else. Makes me think I have some unresolved issues with doctors, now that that occurs to me.

Anyway. I was motivated to get off, so I was thinking hard about all the hottest chicks I’d seen and had the pleasure of spending the night with, including the otter Cherry. The last few days had put me in an odd enough place mentally that the thought of her infecting me with this thing was… not a turn on, yet. That idea gave me a sense of being a fetish I could ‘opt into’ pretty easily if I let myself, which I eventually did. Still some of my favorite wank material when I bother.

By sheer brute force and a lot of mental effort I managed to cum. That was underwhelming. Didn’t spark like orgasms I’ve had in the past. It was okay, and it worked off my need. Felt my plumbing pump, the need die down, a bit of muted afterglow.

Oh, and I felt it run through that canal too. Like when I relieved myself there was an instant of catch where some organic valve took a second to open. Unlike before there was more pressure after too, and no mess. It flowed down, but not back up that canal again. This thing that was on my cock, becoming my cock, swallowed my load down and made those bumps and that ring swell out a little bit.

Once I noticed that it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen or felt a single drop of pre come out of the wormy textured tip since I got it. The whole thing was a bit slick, just short of slimy, but no pre. It was eating my loads, I guess.

I’m getting a little off track. Whatever else was going on, the orgasm hadn’t been very satisfying. Okay at best, and that after a lot of effort. It might have been enough to convince me to look into my other options, but I was tired and it was good enough.

Next time I jerked it, I didn’t finish. Seemed like too much bother. I was happy to find out that that first minute or so of awesome sensitivity made a repeat appearance. Almost made up for the rest of it. 

My plan after that was to give it a few days. If it feels fantastic during the first couple minutes and I let it really build up before hand, then I can let myself get needy and whack off then. Not for very long but if it feels better, then that can be a decent trade.

I made it six days without putting my hands on the thing that was my dick. Hadn’t been easy, since I was feeling pretty horny lately. Which just goes to show a guy can get used to anything. Midafternoon, thinking fondly of the super-nut I had planned for the weekend, at my desk at work. Accounting, nothing you’d find interesting.

At my desk, at work, bulging out my pants with a wormcock that nobody else knew about and I was ignoring with mixed success. It undulated, like it sometimes does. Just once. 

Then I came.

Yeah, just like that. No warning or anything. It’s freaky when it happens like that. I felt my insides pumping and the jizz flowing, all out of nowhere. And it didn’t have the pleasure that usually goes with an orgasm. Didn’t feel bad, by any stretch of the imagination, just… That’s not a set of feelings a brain is built to expect without any of the good sex sensations to go along with it. I think the surprise made me yelp a little, but thankfully nobody came to check in on me. At least there was no mess in my pants.

Still, and I want to emphasize this, it wasn’t an orgasm. I ejaculated without an orgasm, basically.

And I reached down to touch it through my pants, at my desk, at work. Casual-like. And it felt same as always. Not post-cum sensitive like I used to get, not more sensitive than usual after not touching it for a bit as was the new norm. Like nothing had happened.

It just sucked it right out of me somehow. Hormones or whatever. So my plan to get a decent orgasm during the sensitive period had hit a bit of a snag. Experimenting some told me that I had something like four to seven days between my balls emptying themselves all on their own. 

I did manage to cum during that first brief fire of sensation a couple times. It was nice, but didn’t add much to what I was already getting. All the same, this was still more or less acceptable to me. I got used to masturbating more often, for shorter times. On the flip side I could jizz for the parasite’s dining pleasure in the middle of a meeting without giving anything away.

So by a couple months after Cherry and I picked each other up at that club, I’d settled into a new kind of normal. I wondered about her occasionally. Considered trying to find her and ask a few questions. Nicely, because I was comfortable enough now that the initial shock was over.

Except, that’s when I started to notice the new problem. I was getting hornier. Not uncontrollably so, I just caught myself fantasizing more. Had to make myself a rule that I wouldn’t masturbate at work, except for a stop to work through that glorious sensitive couple minutes once or twice a day when I visited the bathroom anyway. Mess or no, getting caught would have been awkward.

And it wasn’t long after I noticed that when I realized my balls were bigger. Yeah, really. I think the wormcock must have been leaking some sort of hormones into my bloodstream. Making sure it had more food? The jizz-sans-orgasm didn’t come any more often than it had but the next time I payed attention I was pretty sure I pumped longer and more.

It reached a point where I gave in to something I had been making a point of not considering, and went out to the club again to search for some hot pussy.

I’m not stupid. I was carrying some kind of sex-worm on or possibly instead of my junk, and I might be contagious. That’s why I picked up a selection of extra-strong condoms first, a size larger than what I had occasionally used before.

The first Friday night I didn’t quite work up the nerve to try, even with my speculative prep. Saturday, driven by a desperate need to hump and cuddle even with possibly no cumshot at the end, I met Sandra. Gorgeous dolphin girl. I know practically all of them have that swimmer’s build, but you gotta admit not all of them wear it as well as she does. It looks good with her dark grey skin, lighter belly, sharp eyes. Breasts are really small for extra hydrodynamics. Can’t say I was ever a boob guy anyway. And that thick tail of hers, mmmm.

Anyway I turned on the old charm and we went back to my place after that. I bet you’re wondering how I played it after that, but no worries. Mama didn’t raise a liar. I [i]did[/i] open by saying I was ‘exotic’ instead of just blurting out that I had a freaky sex infection, but she still got the whole story plus a promise I’d use a condom, or even double wrap, as long as I could at least pretend for a while.

Bless her kinky cetacean heart. She sat back in her slinky skirt and low-cut top, went all thoughtful for a couple ages while I died inside from suspense, and then [i]asked if the otter I caught it from had cum on my cock.[/i] Which, yeah, at least three times: I was pretty sure I heard the guest a room over move out after a half hour of her noise.

And that was enough for Sandra. She wanted me to wear the condom, sure, but the way she put it she kinda liked fucking with a rubber anyway, and if it broke, it sounded like patient zero was having plenty of fun anyway. Worst case it would mean giving up getting it raw, which wasn’t much of a loss to her.

So I unzipped to give her a look, and she liked what she saw. Helped me get the condom on and over the new irregularities, down all the way to the base of my knot. She teased me about the knot, a little bit. All in good fun, but I do tend to blush when the one place I’m undersized gets pointed out. 

I’m over it, really. Just force of habit and cultural conditioning that keeps me reacting at all. Between one thing and another, it’s actually a pretty sweet deal. I can knotfuck like nobody’s business. Besides, I’ve known a wolf guy on the other end of the scale, who can’t get all the way in to any girl smaller than a draft horse. Poor dude isn’t really thick enough at the shaft to get any tightness from anyone he can tie. Did wonders for my self esteem to know he would trade me if he could.

Then, after eating her out for a while because I am A True Gentleman, natch, we got down to business. The condom muted things a little bit but it was better than wanking. Quite a bit better. I thrust in and she stretched around me, not the best sex I’ve ever had by a long shot, but still good. 

She came on my latex-packaged freaky worm dick twice, face to face, making out with me. I was having too much fun to be too bothered by how I noticed I’d just stopped about halfway to climax myself. Not losing sensitivity to the degree I did in my hand, mind. This was different. I would have expected, based on the sensation, to have come by now, sub-par sense of sexual touch and all. Her losing her mind from my fucking was almost as good after a few months of abstinence. 

I just… couldn’t. Not even the same way I could shoot off without really peaking when I made a serious effort. And Sandra got the full benefit of a guy who wanted to fuck forever and had no off switch. I think the ring catching on her clit every thrust or two didn’t hurt at all either.

Sometime over the next hour or two we had made the switch to my fucking her from behind, doggy style. Her tail against my front gave me some reset bounce to let me keep humping more easily without losing any speed or roughness, and she was absolutely loving the extra texture on the front against her pleasure button. I know I said I have a knack for it, but I was avoiding putting my knot in her in case the condom slipped off on the outstroke. Even without that she was soaking the hell out of my mattress. 

On her sixth orgasm, I think it was, she lost it entirely. The overfucked overheated turned-on-as-hell dolphin babe begged me to take off the condom and fuck her raw until I couldn’t fuck any more. Pretty sure she wasn’t thinking clearly any more. I know I wasn’t because I pulled out to yank the thing off with a pop before I dove back in.

And an instant later, the sex went from ‘so-so physically but I’m totally into how I’m making her scream’ to ‘holy shit this is the best sex ever ever ever’. Not the first second I was in, but by about the third thrust… 

Now, in hindsight, I think the wormcock could taste pussy, decided it wanted to fill her up as much as I did, and let my ability to feel every atom of cock-to-cunt contact off the leash. That was a totally mindblowing experience, being able to feel the ring against her entrance both on the way in and out, those bumps pulling their slight amount of give in glorious stretch. And the texture at the tip? That rubbed across everything. On top of how I could shove my knot in and out to stretch her silly.

I got no idea how long that lasted. I [i]think[/i] Sandra came at least one more time but I didn’t have any attention to spare for that, because for a change I felt something building. That orgasm, that I hadn’t really had since Cherry gave e this thing, was coming and it was bringing every one of its friends from every missed opportunity from the last month. 

Just like everything else, it was different. Where I used to feel it building in the base of my knot, this fire was spreading in the bulge at my middle, up the canal, and in the head. The thing melded with me squirmed along with me, and I finally came an orgasm nothing like before.

No, I didn’t jizz. I think I’ve already established there’s a difference between that and an orgasm. I came. And my passenger came along with me.

Still thrusting, but not actually moving inside Sandra much because at this point I was more shoving her into the bed than myself into her, I had that first real orgasm. And felt things wriggling through the bumpy canal in my surface. Poor overloaded jackal that I am it only occurred to think of that sensation as creepy well afterward. While it was happening it was just fan-fucking-tastic.

Oh, and then I came again. My balls emptied themselves into my wormcock, it greedily fed on my jizz, and for once that felt like it ought to too. I’d pumped, probably, a bunch of little worms into her and almost certainly gotten her infected with whatever the hell this was. Can’t say I cared.

She passed out from pleasure sometime during that, she tells me. Kinky freak of a dolphin babe wishes she could remember the part where my wormcock let loose in her better. I love that girl.

After that? Couldn’t walk the next couple days. Had to take some sick leave. Sandra could, barely, but she was taking the time to ride me a few more times. Can’t say it was quite as good as infecting her, and I didn’t shoot either jizz or larva, but I think it still noticeably beats regular sex and I came dry plenty of times.

That’s how me and Sandra got together, and she picked up her own passengers. It’s a hell of a lot less obvious on a girl, with the wormy little guests hanging out deep inside. Once she spread herself and let me take a look inside with a little flashlight. Looks pretty normal for the first inch or two inside, but after that you can see the trademark rings on the walls where one’s clinging like a second pussy wall, and how it moves. Sometimes against the way the rest of her does. Feels good, man,

We experimented with a condom, too. If you smear some pussy juice on the inside before starting you can come pretty damn hard inside the condom, and fill it up with little pale grey wigglers. Sounds gross, but feeling them moving against your cock? Pretty good.

Oh, and worm-pussy tastes like blueberries, I’ve found. Just so you know.

Generally we’ve been pretty happy with each other. Lucky us we’re compatible for a lot of our tastes, not just sex wise and the matching infection. We moved in together, talking about getting married. No kids for us, thanks, even if we can still have them.

But.

Something that started happening a little more recently is, I’ve noticed her eye wandering. Checking out an antelope dude running the checkout. A crock who’s a regular at her gym.  This one femmy rat boy who hangs out down the block. Same goes for me and girls. 

And I would think I would be jealous. Never have been before, but then I never had a steady thing going before. I always figured, once I found the one… No, I didn’t think every other female on the planet would just stop being appealing instantly, and I wouldn’t expect the reverse either. 

It’s just, what I got instead, was this shiver of anticipation. I wanted to watch her ride those guys senseless, or see them bend her over right then and there and fill her up. She tells me she feels the same way when I let my eyes linger a little too long on the shark chick who serves coffee at the café, the mare who runs the art gallery.

We wanted to see each other fucking people. Other people. And we wanted to see them getting all wormed up.

I couldn’t say whether that’s our passengers fucking with our heads, or what. Seems a little sophisticated compared to anything else they’ve done. Maybe it’s just the boosted sex drive, and us associating that with our parasites.

Just to be clear: I know how fucked up that is. That would mean subjecting someone else to this infection. At the same time, I can’t say it’s ruined my life, has it? Hell, my sex life is better than ever even if it is damn strange. Nothing else has changed much (except for the beautiful woman who I love and the new impulse to share her around while she watches me screw some other girl).

Oh, and she’s interested in watching another guy pound my ass. Gotta admit, I’m curious whether I could have a prostate ‘gasm from that. Sandra’s stuck a finger up there and it felt interesting, but she’d rather make that last test using another dude. I’m okay with the idea.

So anyway. We discuss it. We keep coming back to the idea. We flirt with other people, just a little bit, and set each other’s libidos on fire that way. For months.

And then we finally decided to go through with it. Reluctantly, we agreed that we’d need to tell whoever we picked what they were getting into. That was a surprisingly hard decision. The idea of just getting someone and letting it sort itself out… Makes me hard just thinking about it. 

So we went clubbing. And we find this dude, a built ram, to float the idea to. The idea of fucking my girl Sandra, at least, we want him at least a little invested in the idea before we spring the rest of it on him. This guy, as soon as we tell him I want him to fuck my girlfriend, is totally into the idea. Introduces himself as ‘Stud, and that’s all the name I need to a little cuck and a wet bitch like you two’. Can’t say it didn’t suit him. You could see how big his balls were outlined in his pants. Sheep are like that.

Kind of charming, almost, the way Stud said that. Affectionate in a weird way. It sets these wonderful chills down my spine. I play it up, acting intimidated. Sandra plays it up, fawning over him with a lot of glances back at me to see me squirm and a few more downward to see how my pants are tenting. I don’t have to look to be pretty sure the crotch of her pants are wet (and I do see that later- my lovely wet worm-infested ‘bitch’ is loving it enough to soak through her panties and jeans together). He plays it up even farther from there, telling me how if I’m a good little sub boy he might have a little reward for me too.

All of us together drive to a motel. Could have brought him home, but we’d just as soon keep that our place until and unless we know someone well enough to be inviting them over regularly. And really, I’m driving while they grope and talk dirty in the back seat. Makes it damn hard for me to focus on driving, let me tell you.

We do make it to the motel, barely. If it were just a couple blocks farther we might have pulled over to let them do the deed in the back seat. We get up to our room, and then it’s time to tell him about the little twist.

Yeah, we should have mentioned earlier than that. We’ll know better next time. But it turned out that Stud wasn’t interested in hearing anything else. What were the exact words, again? “Shut up fer now, doggy boy. Same to you, thirsty fish-bitch. All I need to know is I’m taking your girl on this bed while you watch from that chair, and then after that if I like it I’ll fuck your tailhole too so you know what a real man’s packing”

Literally clamped a paw over our muzzles. Maybe I do have a little subby streak in me because I fed my wormcock enough pre to feel it go through. We tried a second time, both of us, but we got the same muzzle-squeeze treatment for long enough to get the picture.

We could have tried to explain a third time. Really should have. Buuuuuuut…

It was what we really wanted anyway. And far be it from us to contradict Stud, I guess.

Sandra strips for him. Damn is she hot- that’s when I can see her pants are soaked through, by the way. The ram lets her get about halfway through that before ‘helping’ by ripping her underclothes off of her hard enough they’ll need to be replaced. 

Her moan, and my gasp, tell me we’re all happy with that, and he throws her on her back onto the bed so her spread legs are dangling off the edge of the mattress toward me in my chair. So I can see her wet and slippery pussy for a minute before Stud’s massive balls block the view.

They are really, really big balls. I mean, mine levelled off their growth streak about the size of a lime, or a small lemon. What he’s going to end up with I have no idea, but the idea of burying my face in a couple beach balls…

Yeah, pretty sure at this point I must already have been bi, and just had some really specific tastes I never stumbled across. Go figure.

But anyway. The size of those balls means I can’t really see him going in, but I can hear it and I can hear her groan of satisfaction. I wish I could see more, and maybe I could have asked to see him bounce her on his lap faced this way, but watching those balls swing and hearing my girl get loud is fantastic. I was pawing at my cock from the outside of my pants.

I didn’t cum, but it was still hot as hell. That is, I didn’t cum when he did, but he just kept going until she came. I could tell by how her tail thrashed between his legs. [i]Then[/i] I came, dry like always. 

He got her through three more orgasms after that. I’d be jealous, but I know I can do better with the desperation induced stamina of a condom when I need to. She doesn’t have the same problems cumming as I do, not as long as she’s got something inside her. Sandra tells me that just jilling her clit doesn’t work anymore, but a few fingers or, better, my cock inside her are enough to solve that.

Also, I know she’s extra turned on by the idea of worming Stud.

He passes out on top of her. I think it must be something about her worm, because he was out like a light, same as I was with Cherry. My first impulse is to pull him off her. Not because I want him to stop fucking Sandra, of course. I just don’t want her to get crushed.

She practically yells at me to stop that, leave him inside. I ask, and she tells me she can feel it happening. Her voice is shaking. So is what I can see of her tail and legs. I want to see, I want to see so bad, so I lift those big old balls out of the way (sneaking a sniff of them while I can, because why not explore the taste I didn’t know I had while the chance is available?).

Still not a whole lot to see at first. Except, her pussy is clenching all over him, still oozing his cum and hers. And then, after a minute of that… 

I came again. Orgasm, semen, the whole shebang though as usual none of it made it as far as the outside of my wormcock. I came because, inching out of her pussy around Stud’s cock, is another worm. I think the one previously lining the inside of Sandra’s cunt. And it just climbs his cock, all the way to the sheath, slowly. Devouring it. Becoming one with it. Sealing itself on as hard as a second skin, I don’t know.

And then when Sandra feels it’s done, then we roll the big guy off of her and watch his dick slide out. It’s a different shape than mine, because the original cock under there is different. Thinner, no knot, but longer. So now it’s thinner, with no knot, and longer, but that grey-pink color with the segments and ring and channel from real urethra to false urethra and the textured top that Sandra loves to lick at.

She stares at it, glazed. I ask if she’s cumming, and she tells me no. She will next time she thinks about that, in a few minutes. My sweet sexy dolphin babe is too sex-drunk to come again quite yet. I look inside her stretched snatch, so I can see the next worm slowly climbing down her insides from deeper in, ready for whoever whenever takes us up on it next.

After that, we spooned while we fucked, cuddled up next to Stud’s unconscious body so we can stay close to his new, exposed, wormy cock and just stare at it. Couldn’t get all the way into her from that position, because of how her strong tail gets in the way, but worth it.

And that’s the explanation for what happened last night, Stud. Sorry. We did try to warn you. For what it’s worth, I think having a worm-dick is a plus once you get used to it. 

For now, we’ve headed home. Probably going to see if we can find a girl interested in taking some permanent guests for me to worm up. Don’t worry about the motel bill, and you’ve got until noon to check out. Hope you have a great day.



Your cuck, 

Will





P.S. If the offer’s still open I’d love to try having your cock up my ass, and my fiancée here would love to watch that. Call us at the number on the back if you wanna.

P.P.S. If you go to the doctor, let us know what they say about that. Sandra’s curious if it has a neat scientific name.



[center]The End[/center]