Mixed Signals

Mixed Signals (Furry anal vore/goo fur/goo inflation)

Mixed Signals

by Anima


He was so shy at the bar, you almost gave up twice out of frustration.  The buck with unusually feminine curves (apart from those betraying the bulge lurking in his roomy denim shorts) almost seemed reluctant to talk to you, but all his body language indicated the opposite.  His tall ears stayed trained on you, he kept his body turned towards you, even leaning in the slightest bit.


Having had to work for it, the rush of victory is all the headier when you two leave the bar hand in hand and walk along the beach to your motel.  His hand is moist, and very warm indeed, long fingers squeezing yours.


The door is barely shut behind you both before you’ve backed up into his hips, grinding your ass into his thighs and bulge.  He actually bleats in surprise, and you can feel his package lurch beneath the denim.


“Gotta get you out of those clothes and into something more comfortable,” you purr, bouncing your rear against him to leave no doubt in the buck’s mind where he’s needed.


He strips you, panting, and by the time you start returning the favor you begin to wonder if he’s used to a cooler climate.  His clothes are soaked. Well, the AC has been broken since this morning and the room is a bit stifling.  You spare a moment to lever one of the windows open before crawling onto the creaky bed, flagging your tail and presenting an ass desperately in need of a filling.


There’s lube on the bedside table but the buck steps up beside the bed, grabs your thighs, and pulls you back onto his dick without a glance at it. Your face is already screwed up around the howl of protest and pain you expect to make, but…he must be lubed already somehow, the sneaky boy.


He enters you, the smoothest penetration you’ve ever felt, the desperate deer plunging what feels like two feet of heated slickness inside you.  He stretches your insides deliciously taut around his need.  The pre-lubed theory is confirmed when he begins to thrust, and a storm of messy squelches rise from your union.  You feel thick trickles of warmth ooze down from your stuffed pucker, nerves afire from that decadent pressure, crammed full of deer prick.


He cums far earlier than you expected, the wet rush pounding into your depths, and you can’t keep a pout off your face.  The buck’s moan doesn’t taper off though, and neither does his climax!  In fact, if anything the pressure and volume of his ejaculate only increases!


Flabbergasted, one of your hands flies to your belly, feeling it swell with heated fluid.  Craning your neck back to stare at the deer, you find him…melting?!  His features have softened, even starting to slump and run, as his hips slap at your ass.  His antlers flop like cooked spaghetti, and as you watch, a brown gob of…deer drips off his chin onto your tail.  You try to lunge away across the bed, but his hands, sticky but strong, grasp your hips.


Right before your eyes you see his height dwindle even as your belly swells, and the connection hits you with a rush of vertigo.  He’s…pumping himself into you!  Again, you scramble across the bed, sleek sheets sliding infuriatingly under your fingers, and this time you make some headway…but with a wet GLORPH the mass of buck just elastically rebounds and smothers your ass.  The heavy buck goop clings to your rump, weighing you down as he forces himself messily through your stretched hole and into your cozy bowels.


You try to roll over, to scrape the mess off, but thick strands of goopy deer anchor you to the bed like guy wires.  Your belly swells, further and further, pushing your thighs apart.  Your loins tingle, blood rushing to them, and you feel a climax building without the slightest brush of your fingers!


You feel the last of the deer slide up inside you with a soft sucking sound, your sticky hole squeezing shut behind that enormous sloppy enema.  Your guts groan and burble alarmingly, and finally free to move, you topple onto your side and wrap both arms and legs around your huge tummy. That orgasm continues to build, momentum gathering faster now, and you grit your teeth as muscles all over your body tense in preparation for the peak.


When it hits, you’re not ready.  You hit a familiar plateau, sail right past it to something more intense, and scream.  Your breath is stolen right from your lungs as you shoot past even that level into pleasure so powerful it feels as if your entire body must warp itself beyond recognition to express it!  Cum floods out of you, white as Elmer’s glue and easily as thick, splattering your body and the bed audibly with the cups and cups of it surging forth!  You clutch your belly as it shrinks, feeding this bizarre climax, your brain too immersed in molten ecstasy to even make a connection between the two.


You black out.  When you come to, you have to clear cum off your face to see, your entire body slathered in ivory slime.  You roll around in more of the same with juicy squelches, the bed covered in a thick coating of your glaze.


You let a mewl slip out, a noise of simple confusion, and it’s then that the goop begins to move.  Quivering, rippling, the mess laps at your body like miniature ocean waves.  The waves grow, becoming flaps, then bands, crossing your frame and joining to cocoon you.  You open your mouth to scream and have your throat flooded with slime for your trouble. Your vision is stolen once again as milky ooze crawls up your neck, your cheeks, engulfing your face with a glorp.


In seconds, a sloppy, melty-looking buck with a bloated belly resolves on the bed, pushing your blindly groping fingers back through his viscous mass and into his depths.  Here, your knee pokes through.  There, your face surfaces to steal a gasp of breath, and each time he patiently nudges you back beneath his surface.  All the while he’s regaining solidity, color blooming across his surface, replacing the pure, lewd white.


The buck’s belly quivers with impacts and struggles from within, but nothing else breaches his surface.  He heaves a long sigh, wrapping a slippery hand around his leaking cock, giving it a few ginger strokes.  He winces at his sensitivity, but doesn’t stop.


“So persistent. Sorry sweetness.  My willpower’s just not that good.”


A strange gurgle flows up from the deer’s heavy gut, through his neck, and he spreads his jaws to let a belch echo through the motel room, the gas expanding and popping a huge milky bubble between his lips.


“Oh gods.  Sure could use a drink after all that.  I’d go out again but the chubby chasers are even more persistent.  I hope you didn’t set an early wake-up call.  And don’t worry.  I’ll tip the maid well for the mess.  It’s only going to get worse in here before I’m done with you…”