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"thumb_large_noncustom_y": "166", "thumb_huge_noncustom_x": "159", "thumb_huge_noncustom_y": "166" } ], "pools": [], "description": "A story of Quicksilver's twin brother getting into some serious trouble.\n\nStory is by an anonymous person for me.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A story of Quicksilver's twin brother getting into some serious trouble.

Story is by an anonymous person for me.", "writing": "\tFighting crime couldn’t have been so tough! The afternoon light kept the various alleyways the little pink Furret boy passed from being too foreboding, though he was nervous, even in his grey and black super-heroic outfit, complete with black boots, gloves and a tied mask. Its chest was adorned with its signature, a stylized “Q.” How could he be nervous, in that sort of garb? Well, for one thing, it wasn’t his. It belonged to his twin brother, who actually had super powers. Countless times, his brother would have to skip school to fight crime in their sprawling city of residence. Guess who elected to cover for him each time?\n\t\n\tNot that it was something the boy wouldn’t choose to do. He loved his brother. However, he had no idea what all of this entailed. Being a superhero, that is. After a year or two of dealing with tough questions from teachers and friends alike, he started to wonder if it was even more difficult than that. He started to believe that villains would merely flee at the sight of a superhero in a suit; they’d probably drop their tools and run. His brother had to have it easier than he did! So, why not pilfer his suit for a day and see what all the fuss is about? Of course, his brother had a very slight belly, so that part of the snug-fitting tights wrinkled with minor looseness.\n\n\tDirty looks were shot from all around, making the fuzzy boy nervous. He had chosen the district regarded as the most crime-filled place in the city, near the piers. If he were to see exactly what his brother needed to deal with, it would be there, of course! One of the shipping docks wasn’t too far away, and he figured that if he found nothing, he could hike over to the public ferry dock and take a trip through the river to the inner city again, so he could give his sleeping brother a piece of his mind! All that time spent covering for him, only to find that he has so little to actually do… how frustrating!\n\n\tStacks of large shipping containers towered over the little faux-superhero as he trudged onto one of the longer docks. Surprisingly, there were no workers to be seen; no one to tell him he was trespassing, and turn him away. That was strange. The containers seemed to create a maze, with how many there were, forcing the boy to try his best to navigate through. A combination of descending into the unknown, and the sound of silence aside from the ocean and a couple of Wingulls, intensified his nervousness. It wouldn’t be quelled until he finally found a path into an open part of the dock. Relieved, the little Furret breathed in the salty ocean air. It was a pure moment of relief, just before two pairs of fuzzy, clawed arms wrapped around his own, holding him steady.\n\n\t“Well well, look who we got here…” a deep voice emerged from the darkness within a nearby open shipping container.\n\n\tFollowing the voice was a sinister-looking man from the shadows. He was a Weavile, no doubt about that. His clothing was ragged, a mere t-shirt and jeans. His neck, aside from the usual red-feather frill of his kind, was adorned with several shiny necklaces, all of which he most certainly stole. He was obviously rather lean and fit, also often the case with his kind if they’re taking care of themselves. The grin he wore shined like his necklaces, which was not reassuring.\n\n\tThe boy panicked and tried to tug his arms free, but to no avail. To his left, a Zangoose held him tightly. To the right, a Sneasel. Both were dressed in run-down clothing like the Weavile, but with no pretty jewelry. That made it pretty obvious who the leader was. The boy didn’t care, though. He was scared. “Let me go!” he yelled, then realizing who he was and who he looked like. Perhaps he could get away with it..? “Or I’ll… I’ll knock you out!”\n\n\tNo silence preceded the laughter that all three assailants belted out, which embarrassed the little Furret. Not at all frightened, the Weavile’s grin subdued to a mere smile as he approached the boy. His clawed hand cupped under the Furret’s chin, then his grip tightened against the cheeks above it as he leaned in, face to face.\n\t\n\t“It’s so funny how you just walked right into us this time,” he whispered threateningly, making the poor Furret visibly shaken. “I could gut you right here and now for the problems you’ve given us, and throw you in the ocean where that fat idiot lives. I think we can make better use of you first, though…”\n\n\tBetter use..? The terrified boy stuttered in an attempt to ask what that meant. The grips on his arms and chin were so tight and malicious, and the Weavile was so close that he could feel every breath against his face. It made him want to cry and beg to just go home. Maybe that’s what he would do. Admit that he was a wimp, and not who they thought he was. Maybe they’d let him go home. He opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, anything. Then, it was abruptly filled with the Weavile’s tongue.\n\n\tIt was wet, slimy, and warm. It traveled across the boy’s own tongue, and for a few moments, the foreign, disgusting feeling of it made him feel as though he would retch. Only the fear of what would happen if he did kept the feeling in check, leaving him to whimper helplessly. He couldn’t pull away, and he couldn’t run. He could hear chuckling at his sides as the Weavile had his way… and then the touching began.\n\nWeavile claws, traveling down and around his form. They openly groped between the Furret’s legs, where they found his uncontrollable, youthful erection and began to toy with it. To position it where it made the most obvious tent possible. At his age, the poor Furret boy couldn’t help his body’s own excitement, even if he was terrified out of his mind. That wet tongue jammed into his mouth against his will was like a chain reaction.\n\n“Heh, lookit that,” the Sneasel commented. “I think he wants ya, boss.”\n\nIn response, the Weavile pulled his tongue from the boy’s mouth, and looked him in the eyes with his own red gaze. The boy looked desperate and ashamed, averting his gaze and panting for air. Yet, the toying continued on for several good, firm squeezes before the Weavile grew tired of it. His clawtips then found the slack in the Furret’s heroic suit, and promptly ripped it open, exposing his fragile, pink-furred body underneath, as well as the particularly incriminating erection that now openly showed itself, pink stripes all the way up to its foreskin. The Weavile admired the sight for several moments, allowing his initial toothy grin to return.\n\n“Get him on his knees,” was the Weavile’s sudden order.\n\nThere was no fighting it. The combined power of the two other men was enough to ground the Furret, causing his legs to shake before they gave in and crumpled. He looked up to see that red-maned menace towering over him in his shoddy clothes. He couldn’t deny it; he was scared of this man. He had a drive to do anything the Weavile asked, if he wouldn’t be killed. Yet, the earlier threat suggested they had little intention of keeping him alive. As he watched the man beginning to unbutton his jeans, he said the first thing he had a chance to.\n\n“Please don’t kill me… I’ll do anything!”\n\nThe Furret had no dignity left, nearly sobbing as he begged his assailant. The Weavile didn’t even stop undressing himself as he took it in. His claws tugged the zipper down, revealing soft, cottony boxers underneath. Then came the revealing question. “You’re not him, are you?”\n\nWhat could he say? Would it be worse for the Furret if he admitted that? Or perhaps worse if he didn’t? It was probably time to give this up. His brother was right. This was dangerous, and it was necessary for him to stop things like this from happening. Swallowing what little pride he had left, the boy shook his head. “I-I’m not…”\n\n“Then who?” The Weavile’s question was impatient, and despite the admission of guilt from the Furret before him, he was quite happy to palm his boxer bulge right in front of his victim.\n\nShould he be truthful about that? No. He had to make something up. If they found out he was family, they would no doubt spread the word, and his brother’s secret identity might be found out. There was only one thing he could say, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. “I… I just wanted to be like my favorite superhero…”\n\n“Well, consider your dreams dashed,” the Weavile responded coldly.\n\nAt that same moment, he tugged his boxers down to reveal a monster of a dark-colored, uncut penis. Its length was easily a higher number than the height of the Furret’s own head, minus the ears. Even with the ears, it came pretty close. It hung threateningly in his face, and had a distinct smell that even overtook the breezy, salty air. Not entirely unclean, but not exactly clean either… and masculine. Very masculine.\n\n“Let him go and stand up,” the Weavile ordered with purpose, grinning down at the boy’s shocked expression. “If he’s a fake, it’s not like he’s gonna speed away like the real deal.”\n\nReluctantly, the Zangoose and Sneasel released their grip on the Furret. He had a brief idea to make a break for it, but that would have been very stupid. Like they said, he wouldn’t be fast enough to get away. Upon realizing that, the two flunkies chuckled once more, standing at either side of their leader. To the Furret’s horror, they too began fishing their junk out. One, a noticeable ivory color. The other, as dark as the one hanging inches from his nose. Both, just as uncut, but with a minor scent that was still overpowered by the Weavile’s.\n\n“First off,” the Weavile began, bringing the musk-addled Furret’s mind back around. “Call me Daddy. Call them Uncle. Got it?”\n\nIt was… humiliating, but the Furret boy didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that. They would probably kill him if he didn’t do this. Hesitantly, he nodded. Then, the fuzz atop his head was taken into a harsh, clawed grip.\n\n“What did I just say?” the Weavile asked grimly.\n\nIt was the first real show of violent intent, and it made the Furret’s heart race with fear. “D-daddy! Yes Daddy!” he quickly spat out. He hoped with all of his being that he’d gotten it right that time, that those sharp claws on his head wouldn’t find their way into his heart, or eyes, or some other horrible place. Thankfully, they released his head, and he was allowed to calm himself. He noticed his eyes had watered during that moment of sheer terror.\n\n“Good. Now, tilt your head back and open your mouth… and don’t close it until I tell you.”\n\nThe Weavile’s instructions were clear, and the Furret, despite knowing that three men were standing before him with their dicks at the ready, had no choice but to comply. He didn’t know what they planned to do. His only experience was his brother telling him about how perverse the villains of the city could get. In truth, he didn’t believe it at the time. Now, he was convinced. Especially as three different sources pushed their foreskin between his lips at once, stuffing them full.\n\nThe mixed scent was a lot to deal with, but it was the situation itself that was overwhelming. Three men, each one shoving their penis into his mouth at the same time. Even a small ways in, it felt so wrong that they were doing this to him. Then, they did something that he never would have guessed. Something that made him feel sick. Something that made him whine desperately.\n\nEvery single one of the three men began to piss into the Furret’s mouth. Their foreskins erupted with hot, bitter urine that quickly drowned his tongue, forcing his taste buds to experience the tear-inducing flavor. He probably couldn’t have opened his eyes even if he wanted to. He could only hear those sickening sighs of relief. He could only feel his mouth quickly overflow, liquid heat dripping down and staining the remains of his brother’s suit, and eventually his own body, when it traveled down far enough. The triad of streams into his mouth seemed to last forever, and by the time they started to die down, he had lost his ability to feel relieved. His mind was too busy dwelling on what they’d just done to him. He wasn’t brought around until the three of them each pushed their dicks in, tightly sealing the open lips of the Furret’s mouth.\n\n“Swallow.”\n\nThe single-word command from the Weavile made the Furret want to cry. And he did, somewhat. Minor sobbing occurred before he made an attempt at swallowing a complete mouthful of three adults’ piss. Thanks to their flesh blocking his mouth entirely, he had the suction necessary for a relatively painless swallow… though the idea of what he was inviting into his belly disgusted him to no end. He could feel the warmth travel all the way down his throat; a sensation he would never miss if it never happened again.\n\nThe three men removed their excess dickskin from the Furret’s mouth, and he took a deep breath. He didn’t care if that breath was more Weavile dick musk than oxygen, he needed it. He was so taxed by what he’d just been through, he began to fall forward, only to be caught by the Sneasel, who then pushed him backwards rather harshly. The Furret expected to hit the concrete of the dock, but instead fell upon the plush fur of the Zangoose behind him, who crossed his arms around him and laid back with him in tow.\n\n“Ready to make Daddy and your Uncles feel real good, son?”\n\nThe Weavile stood above the boy and his two henchmen, merely watching as they worked together. The Zangoose held him steady, while the Sneasel lifted his legs spread-eagle and snipped his claws down the seat of the boy’s superhero suit, tearing it wide to reveal the base of his long, striped tail, as well as his creamy, pink ass. The Sneasel then spat on his own dick, then the Zangoose’s, and considered that all the prep needed. The two of them then guided their piss-dripping tips, contrasting white and black together, to the boy’s soft, undefiled little pucker, and prodded against it roughly.\n\nThis wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. The little Furret was about to have these two adults, two people he’d never even spoken to directly, having sex with him. He opened his mouth to beg them, only to realize that the third adult was, at that time, straddling backwards over his upper body. His open mouth then abruptly sunk between the cheeks of the Weavile’s ass, as it sat upon his face. The smell of Weavile musk seeped into his senses, feeling as though, for a moment, that it stopped his thoughts cold.\n\n“Now, eat out Daddy’s ass while your Uncles have fun ruining yours. Get your tongue right in there…”\n\nWarm, taller bodies seemed to surround the Furret. It made him feel so small; so helpless. He had to give in. His mouth stayed open, and his tongue slid out against his captor’s smooth, musky asshole. The Furret’s sensitive tongue felt every little wrinkle in the skin as it slid past, tasted its musk and sweat even through the lingering tastes he already had been put through. He didn’t care anymore that it was humiliating or wrong. He was theirs. Even as they begun splitting him, with the Sneasel going first and the slightly thicker Zangoose following, even with the pressure and pain it caused, even with the way it made him cry out against his new ‘Daddy’s’ hole, he could only realize where he was. His brother didn’t even know he was here. No one knew. Help wasn’t coming.\n\nPain-induced tears dampened the Furret’s cheeks as the two men, grunting with their respective delights, sunk their dicks into his virgin ass. Their respective speeds differed, eventually resulting in deep, asymmetrical thrusting, slow and steady. The pain was stinging and constant, a unique sort that the Furret had never experienced before. Their lack of remorse translated into a lack of hope for him. As the Weavile lifted his hips and, in one smooth motion, dunked his massive, dark shaft right down his victim’s delicate little throat, the Furret could only gargle out further sobbing around it.\n\nThe repulsive scene continued openly on the dock. Three men, triple penetrating one boy in ripped clothing. Sometimes the one on top pulls out merely to introduce that pink face to his sweaty taint once more, but his needy dick always finds its way back down the boy’s gullet. His hips passionately hammered downward, introducing his thick balls to the Furret’s sensitive nose in a satisfying ‘smack!’ Not a soul intervened, even as the three began to reach their respective climaxes.\n\nThe Zangoose was the first. He moaned from beneath the boy and grabbed a handful of pink head-fuzz in his blissful state. His seed erupted alongside his cohort’s dick, making their differing paces move nice and slick against each other. This set off the Sneasel, who gripped the boy’s legs tightly in his arms and hammered like crazy in the midst of his own orgasm. The Furret’s insides became a mess of adult male semen, already dripping copiously out onto the concrete.\n\n‘Daddy’ came last. His girth speared down over and over, causing all sorts of gagging and sobbing, until its payload finally came. The Weavile moaned out in satisfaction and continued his thrusting throughout this time, each spurt coating various depths of the poor boy’s struggling throat. Finally, he pulled all the way out, the last dribbles coating the Furret’s chin. Then, as a last bit of humiliation, the cherry on the cake, he reached down and gave his bulging foreskin a squeeze between two claws, wetly squirting the remnants of his orgasm out over the desperately-panting Furret’s nose and causing him to cough.\n\nEveryone involved took a moment to catch their breath. The poor boy, who once set out just to see what the life of his heroic brother was like, now covered in the abusive seed of three terrible men who completely stripped him of his dignity. They each slid out and left him to fall unceremoniously into a small pool of various fluids, where they each stood over him, tucking their dicks back in after having been spent.\n\n“Daddy and your Uncles have to go on an errand now. We can’t have you going off somewhere, though. Looks like you’re gonna have to go with us,” the Weavile revealed with a sickening grin.\n\nSo that was it. They were going to take him and abuse him like that forever. The Furret curled up and began to sob. He didn’t want to look up. He could already hear them beginning to search around for ropes and netting. The way they scuffled around, kicked up… water? The way they grunted in pain. That was weird. The boy tilted his head up with cautious curiosity.\n\nThe two ‘Uncles’ were running away, with the Weavile following behind them in a panic. The cause? A very big, very strong Dewgong man. He dripped with ocean water, as though he’d leapt right out from it to combat them. He was also nude, though given that he chased the Furret’s assailants away, he couldn’t care too much about that. However, when the Dewgong transfixed his powerful gaze on the boy, it made him freeze with uncertainty. The man began approaching him, but it wasn’t in an aggressive manner.\n\n“You’ve paid the price for weakness, it seems,” the Dewgong stated. His words stung. “I’ll not harm you. Most here would, though. You need to return from whence you came.”\n\nThe Dewgong spoke in an odd way, but the Furret didn’t mind. It made him feel a little confused, though. Actually, a lot of things about this did. He had so many questions, but only asked one, “Can you help me go home..?”\n\nIt wasn’t worth being out there anymore. He was wrong, and he learned it the hard way. He just wanted to go home and see his brother again. The Dewgong’s intents seemed unclear, and when asked for such a thing, he raised a curious brow. “I can take you to the ferry, nothing more.”\n\nThat was good enough. The Furret nodded, and before he knew it, he was hoisted up over the man’s shoulder like he weighed nothing. He had to hold on tight, nearly screaming as the man leapt off the dock in a graceful dive, making a smooth landing in the water. It was welcome, as it washed much of the previous filth from the Furret’s body. He would have to find a janitor’s closet or something to get some decent clothes, though.\n\nThe Dewgong brought him to the ferry, then left without a word. The Furret had to manage his trip home on his own, but since he was out of the dangerous district, it was manageable. His various sore areas wouldn’t let him forget the abuse he endured, but thanks to a heroic act, he was alive and well. That was what the whole hero thing was about, he supposed.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "\tFighting crime couldn’t have been so tough! The afternoon light kept the various alleyways the little pink Furret boy passed from being too foreboding, though he was nervous, even in his grey and black super-heroic outfit, complete with black boots, gloves and a tied mask. Its chest was adorned with its signature, a stylized “Q.” How could he be nervous, in that sort of garb? Well, for one thing, it wasn’t his. It belonged to his twin brother, who actually had super powers. Countless times, his brother would have to skip school to fight crime in their sprawling city of residence. Guess who elected to cover for him each time?
\t
\tNot that it was something the boy wouldn’t choose to do. He loved his brother. However, he had no idea what all of this entailed. Being a superhero, that is. After a year or two of dealing with tough questions from teachers and friends alike, he started to wonder if it was even more difficult than that. He started to believe that villains would merely flee at the sight of a superhero in a suit; they’d probably drop their tools and run. His brother had to have it easier than he did! So, why not pilfer his suit for a day and see what all the fuss is about? Of course, his brother had a very slight belly, so that part of the snug-fitting tights wrinkled with minor looseness.

\tDirty looks were shot from all around, making the fuzzy boy nervous. He had chosen the district regarded as the most crime-filled place in the city, near the piers. If he were to see exactly what his brother needed to deal with, it would be there, of course! One of the shipping docks wasn’t too far away, and he figured that if he found nothing, he could hike over to the public ferry dock and take a trip through the river to the inner city again, so he could give his sleeping brother a piece of his mind! All that time spent covering for him, only to find that he has so little to actually do… how frustrating!

\tStacks of large shipping containers towered over the little faux-superhero as he trudged onto one of the longer docks. Surprisingly, there were no workers to be seen; no one to tell him he was trespassing, and turn him away. That was strange. The containers seemed to create a maze, with how many there were, forcing the boy to try his best to navigate through. A combination of descending into the unknown, and the sound of silence aside from the ocean and a couple of Wingulls, intensified his nervousness. It wouldn’t be quelled until he finally found a path into an open part of the dock. Relieved, the little Furret breathed in the salty ocean air. It was a pure moment of relief, just before two pairs of fuzzy, clawed arms wrapped around his own, holding him steady.

\t“Well well, look who we got here…” a deep voice emerged from the darkness within a nearby open shipping container.

\tFollowing the voice was a sinister-looking man from the shadows. He was a Weavile, no doubt about that. His clothing was ragged, a mere t-shirt and jeans. His neck, aside from the usual red-feather frill of his kind, was adorned with several shiny necklaces, all of which he most certainly stole. He was obviously rather lean and fit, also often the case with his kind if they’re taking care of themselves. The grin he wore shined like his necklaces, which was not reassuring.

\tThe boy panicked and tried to tug his arms free, but to no avail. To his left, a Zangoose held him tightly. To the right, a Sneasel. Both were dressed in run-down clothing like the Weavile, but with no pretty jewelry. That made it pretty obvious who the leader was. The boy didn’t care, though. He was scared. “Let me go!” he yelled, then realizing who he was and who he looked like. Perhaps he could get away with it..? “Or I’ll… I’ll knock you out!”

\tNo silence preceded the laughter that all three assailants belted out, which embarrassed the little Furret. Not at all frightened, the Weavile’s grin subdued to a mere smile as he approached the boy. His clawed hand cupped under the Furret’s chin, then his grip tightened against the cheeks above it as he leaned in, face to face.
\t
\t“It’s so funny how you just walked right into us this time,” he whispered threateningly, making the poor Furret visibly shaken. “I could gut you right here and now for the problems you’ve given us, and throw you in the ocean where that fat idiot lives. I think we can make better use of you first, though…”

\tBetter use..? The terrified boy stuttered in an attempt to ask what that meant. The grips on his arms and chin were so tight and malicious, and the Weavile was so close that he could feel every breath against his face. It made him want to cry and beg to just go home. Maybe that’s what he would do. Admit that he was a wimp, and not who they thought he was. Maybe they’d let him go home. He opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, anything. Then, it was abruptly filled with the Weavile’s tongue.

\tIt was wet, slimy, and warm. It traveled across the boy’s own tongue, and for a few moments, the foreign, disgusting feeling of it made him feel as though he would retch. Only the fear of what would happen if he did kept the feeling in check, leaving him to whimper helplessly. He couldn’t pull away, and he couldn’t run. He could hear chuckling at his sides as the Weavile had his way… and then the touching began.

Weavile claws, traveling down and around his form. They openly groped between the Furret’s legs, where they found his uncontrollable, youthful erection and began to toy with it. To position it where it made the most obvious tent possible. At his age, the poor Furret boy couldn’t help his body’s own excitement, even if he was terrified out of his mind. That wet tongue jammed into his mouth against his will was like a chain reaction.

“Heh, lookit that,” the Sneasel commented. “I think he wants ya, boss.”

In response, the Weavile pulled his tongue from the boy’s mouth, and looked him in the eyes with his own red gaze. The boy looked desperate and ashamed, averting his gaze and panting for air. Yet, the toying continued on for several good, firm squeezes before the Weavile grew tired of it. His clawtips then found the slack in the Furret’s heroic suit, and promptly ripped it open, exposing his fragile, pink-furred body underneath, as well as the particularly incriminating erection that now openly showed itself, pink stripes all the way up to its foreskin. The Weavile admired the sight for several moments, allowing his initial toothy grin to return.

“Get him on his knees,” was the Weavile’s sudden order.

There was no fighting it. The combined power of the two other men was enough to ground the Furret, causing his legs to shake before they gave in and crumpled. He looked up to see that red-maned menace towering over him in his shoddy clothes. He couldn’t deny it; he was scared of this man. He had a drive to do anything the Weavile asked, if he wouldn’t be killed. Yet, the earlier threat suggested they had little intention of keeping him alive. As he watched the man beginning to unbutton his jeans, he said the first thing he had a chance to.

“Please don’t kill me… I’ll do anything!”

The Furret had no dignity left, nearly sobbing as he begged his assailant. The Weavile didn’t even stop undressing himself as he took it in. His claws tugged the zipper down, revealing soft, cottony boxers underneath. Then came the revealing question. “You’re not him, are you?”

What could he say? Would it be worse for the Furret if he admitted that? Or perhaps worse if he didn’t? It was probably time to give this up. His brother was right. This was dangerous, and it was necessary for him to stop things like this from happening. Swallowing what little pride he had left, the boy shook his head. “I-I’m not…”

“Then who?” The Weavile’s question was impatient, and despite the admission of guilt from the Furret before him, he was quite happy to palm his boxer bulge right in front of his victim.

Should he be truthful about that? No. He had to make something up. If they found out he was family, they would no doubt spread the word, and his brother’s secret identity might be found out. There was only one thing he could say, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. “I… I just wanted to be like my favorite superhero…”

“Well, consider your dreams dashed,” the Weavile responded coldly.

At that same moment, he tugged his boxers down to reveal a monster of a dark-colored, uncut penis. Its length was easily a higher number than the height of the Furret’s own head, minus the ears. Even with the ears, it came pretty close. It hung threateningly in his face, and had a distinct smell that even overtook the breezy, salty air. Not entirely unclean, but not exactly clean either… and masculine. Very masculine.

“Let him go and stand up,” the Weavile ordered with purpose, grinning down at the boy’s shocked expression. “If he’s a fake, it’s not like he’s gonna speed away like the real deal.”

Reluctantly, the Zangoose and Sneasel released their grip on the Furret. He had a brief idea to make a break for it, but that would have been very stupid. Like they said, he wouldn’t be fast enough to get away. Upon realizing that, the two flunkies chuckled once more, standing at either side of their leader. To the Furret’s horror, they too began fishing their junk out. One, a noticeable ivory color. The other, as dark as the one hanging inches from his nose. Both, just as uncut, but with a minor scent that was still overpowered by the Weavile’s.

“First off,” the Weavile began, bringing the musk-addled Furret’s mind back around. “Call me Daddy. Call them Uncle. Got it?”

It was… humiliating, but the Furret boy didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that. They would probably kill him if he didn’t do this. Hesitantly, he nodded. Then, the fuzz atop his head was taken into a harsh, clawed grip.

“What did I just say?” the Weavile asked grimly.

It was the first real show of violent intent, and it made the Furret’s heart race with fear. “D-daddy! Yes Daddy!” he quickly spat out. He hoped with all of his being that he’d gotten it right that time, that those sharp claws on his head wouldn’t find their way into his heart, or eyes, or some other horrible place. Thankfully, they released his head, and he was allowed to calm himself. He noticed his eyes had watered during that moment of sheer terror.

“Good. Now, tilt your head back and open your mouth… and don’t close it until I tell you.”

The Weavile’s instructions were clear, and the Furret, despite knowing that three men were standing before him with their dicks at the ready, had no choice but to comply. He didn’t know what they planned to do. His only experience was his brother telling him about how perverse the villains of the city could get. In truth, he didn’t believe it at the time. Now, he was convinced. Especially as three different sources pushed their foreskin between his lips at once, stuffing them full.

The mixed scent was a lot to deal with, but it was the situation itself that was overwhelming. Three men, each one shoving their penis into his mouth at the same time. Even a small ways in, it felt so wrong that they were doing this to him. Then, they did something that he never would have guessed. Something that made him feel sick. Something that made him whine desperately.

Every single one of the three men began to piss into the Furret’s mouth. Their foreskins erupted with hot, bitter urine that quickly drowned his tongue, forcing his taste buds to experience the tear-inducing flavor. He probably couldn’t have opened his eyes even if he wanted to. He could only hear those sickening sighs of relief. He could only feel his mouth quickly overflow, liquid heat dripping down and staining the remains of his brother’s suit, and eventually his own body, when it traveled down far enough. The triad of streams into his mouth seemed to last forever, and by the time they started to die down, he had lost his ability to feel relieved. His mind was too busy dwelling on what they’d just done to him. He wasn’t brought around until the three of them each pushed their dicks in, tightly sealing the open lips of the Furret’s mouth.

“Swallow.”

The single-word command from the Weavile made the Furret want to cry. And he did, somewhat. Minor sobbing occurred before he made an attempt at swallowing a complete mouthful of three adults’ piss. Thanks to their flesh blocking his mouth entirely, he had the suction necessary for a relatively painless swallow… though the idea of what he was inviting into his belly disgusted him to no end. He could feel the warmth travel all the way down his throat; a sensation he would never miss if it never happened again.

The three men removed their excess dickskin from the Furret’s mouth, and he took a deep breath. He didn’t care if that breath was more Weavile dick musk than oxygen, he needed it. He was so taxed by what he’d just been through, he began to fall forward, only to be caught by the Sneasel, who then pushed him backwards rather harshly. The Furret expected to hit the concrete of the dock, but instead fell upon the plush fur of the Zangoose behind him, who crossed his arms around him and laid back with him in tow.

“Ready to make Daddy and your Uncles feel real good, son?”

The Weavile stood above the boy and his two henchmen, merely watching as they worked together. The Zangoose held him steady, while the Sneasel lifted his legs spread-eagle and snipped his claws down the seat of the boy’s superhero suit, tearing it wide to reveal the base of his long, striped tail, as well as his creamy, pink ass. The Sneasel then spat on his own dick, then the Zangoose’s, and considered that all the prep needed. The two of them then guided their piss-dripping tips, contrasting white and black together, to the boy’s soft, undefiled little pucker, and prodded against it roughly.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. The little Furret was about to have these two adults, two people he’d never even spoken to directly, having sex with him. He opened his mouth to beg them, only to realize that the third adult was, at that time, straddling backwards over his upper body. His open mouth then abruptly sunk between the cheeks of the Weavile’s ass, as it sat upon his face. The smell of Weavile musk seeped into his senses, feeling as though, for a moment, that it stopped his thoughts cold.

“Now, eat out Daddy’s ass while your Uncles have fun ruining yours. Get your tongue right in there…”

Warm, taller bodies seemed to surround the Furret. It made him feel so small; so helpless. He had to give in. His mouth stayed open, and his tongue slid out against his captor’s smooth, musky asshole. The Furret’s sensitive tongue felt every little wrinkle in the skin as it slid past, tasted its musk and sweat even through the lingering tastes he already had been put through. He didn’t care anymore that it was humiliating or wrong. He was theirs. Even as they begun splitting him, with the Sneasel going first and the slightly thicker Zangoose following, even with the pressure and pain it caused, even with the way it made him cry out against his new ‘Daddy’s’ hole, he could only realize where he was. His brother didn’t even know he was here. No one knew. Help wasn’t coming.

Pain-induced tears dampened the Furret’s cheeks as the two men, grunting with their respective delights, sunk their dicks into his virgin ass. Their respective speeds differed, eventually resulting in deep, asymmetrical thrusting, slow and steady. The pain was stinging and constant, a unique sort that the Furret had never experienced before. Their lack of remorse translated into a lack of hope for him. As the Weavile lifted his hips and, in one smooth motion, dunked his massive, dark shaft right down his victim’s delicate little throat, the Furret could only gargle out further sobbing around it.

The repulsive scene continued openly on the dock. Three men, triple penetrating one boy in ripped clothing. Sometimes the one on top pulls out merely to introduce that pink face to his sweaty taint once more, but his needy dick always finds its way back down the boy’s gullet. His hips passionately hammered downward, introducing his thick balls to the Furret’s sensitive nose in a satisfying ‘smack!’ Not a soul intervened, even as the three began to reach their respective climaxes.

The Zangoose was the first. He moaned from beneath the boy and grabbed a handful of pink head-fuzz in his blissful state. His seed erupted alongside his cohort’s dick, making their differing paces move nice and slick against each other. This set off the Sneasel, who gripped the boy’s legs tightly in his arms and hammered like crazy in the midst of his own orgasm. The Furret’s insides became a mess of adult male semen, already dripping copiously out onto the concrete.

‘Daddy’ came last. His girth speared down over and over, causing all sorts of gagging and sobbing, until its payload finally came. The Weavile moaned out in satisfaction and continued his thrusting throughout this time, each spurt coating various depths of the poor boy’s struggling throat. Finally, he pulled all the way out, the last dribbles coating the Furret’s chin. Then, as a last bit of humiliation, the cherry on the cake, he reached down and gave his bulging foreskin a squeeze between two claws, wetly squirting the remnants of his orgasm out over the desperately-panting Furret’s nose and causing him to cough.

Everyone involved took a moment to catch their breath. The poor boy, who once set out just to see what the life of his heroic brother was like, now covered in the abusive seed of three terrible men who completely stripped him of his dignity. They each slid out and left him to fall unceremoniously into a small pool of various fluids, where they each stood over him, tucking their dicks back in after having been spent.

“Daddy and your Uncles have to go on an errand now. We can’t have you going off somewhere, though. Looks like you’re gonna have to go with us,” the Weavile revealed with a sickening grin.

So that was it. They were going to take him and abuse him like that forever. The Furret curled up and began to sob. He didn’t want to look up. He could already hear them beginning to search around for ropes and netting. The way they scuffled around, kicked up… water? The way they grunted in pain. That was weird. The boy tilted his head up with cautious curiosity.

The two ‘Uncles’ were running away, with the Weavile following behind them in a panic. The cause? A very big, very strong Dewgong man. He dripped with ocean water, as though he’d leapt right out from it to combat them. He was also nude, though given that he chased the Furret’s assailants away, he couldn’t care too much about that. However, when the Dewgong transfixed his powerful gaze on the boy, it made him freeze with uncertainty. The man began approaching him, but it wasn’t in an aggressive manner.

“You’ve paid the price for weakness, it seems,” the Dewgong stated. His words stung. “I’ll not harm you. Most here would, though. You need to return from whence you came.”

The Dewgong spoke in an odd way, but the Furret didn’t mind. It made him feel a little confused, though. Actually, a lot of things about this did. He had so many questions, but only asked one, “Can you help me go home..?”

It wasn’t worth being out there anymore. He was wrong, and he learned it the hard way. He just wanted to go home and see his brother again. The Dewgong’s intents seemed unclear, and when asked for such a thing, he raised a curious brow. “I can take you to the ferry, nothing more.”

That was good enough. The Furret nodded, and before he knew it, he was hoisted up over the man’s shoulder like he weighed nothing. He had to hold on tight, nearly screaming as the man leapt off the dock in a graceful dive, making a smooth landing in the water. It was welcome, as it washed much of the previous filth from the Furret’s body. He would have to find a janitor’s closet or something to get some decent clothes, though.

The Dewgong brought him to the ferry, then left without a word. The Furret had to manage his trip home on his own, but since he was out of the dangerous district, it was manageable. His various sore areas wouldn’t let him forget the abuse he endured, but thanks to a heroic act, he was alive and well. That was what the whole hero thing was about, he supposed.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Impostor(Story)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "12", "views": "5400" }