Something Really Fucking Hot Abt How Big Fursuit Paws Are. Just. Clamping Them Over My Mouth And They're

something really fucking hot abt how big fursuit paws are. just. clamping them over my mouth and they're so big i literally can't get out of your grip. can only look around helplessly as im forced to huff n worship your pawstink 🥴🥴🥴

Can't get the concept of a pool toy / balloon creature heavily interested in rough play out of my head.

A synthetic creature with sensitive "skin" but loves it when their partner rough handles them, pulling them closer for kisses. Peppering their face before going lower and nipping into their neck. A faint hsssssssssss escaping the inflatable creature's neck. Sharp claws sinking into their puffy thighs, wasting no time adding to noise of air rapidly escaping their partner underneath them who will soon properly go limp as they deflate in their lover's arms~

Aftercare involves placing patches over holes and properly re-inflating their partner~

I'd also like to think the "skin" can heal naturally over time though perhaps, similar to scars and bruises, there'd be some temporary discoloration on the creature's body~

The engineer looked at the sorcerer's dungeon plans. "A lot of sorting doors here." "To split any adventuring party, sending them separate ways." "Mhm. But these cheap two-fold doors…" "Everyone is one or the other, right?" "Many are in-between. They'll walk right through."

you there! order that plushie with a custom satin-lined pussy. and then, you know, cum in it

Ah, This reminds me of this kinky short story by Vacheee on Furaffinity. https://www.furaffinity.net/view/41187572/

The premise is that you are presented with multiple transformation options with vague descriptors and well, the last transformation if you refuse to choose one is to be a polish dispenser for a enthusiastic pack of latex fox drones. I quite liked it.

soap dispenser doll

the thing stays perfectly Still despite everything, but you know better.

you open up the porcelain like the cover of a book and read the gears inside. you’ve worked the source material, tempered it, conditioned it. you can see its eyes saccading momentarily each time you enter the bathroom, hear the tick-tock of its escapement speed up a fraction of a second. but that’s fine. you were not building a timepiece.

in the morning, you put the toothbrush back in and reach out with the palm of your hand, feigning distraction. almost as you touch its neck, you pull back and shoot a quick glance at it to see its eyelids flutter in blissful anticipation, then Stillness again. you can almost hear the dismay in the clockwork.

stupid needy bitch.

come afternoon, you saunter in buck naked, radiating the chutzpah of a winner, sit up on the washing machine, prop yourself up and hum.

“what a day, huh?”

the dispenser stays Still, looks straight forward, never moving.

“that was someone from work I took out. to dinner, that is. we really hit it off these last few hours, but you’ve heard.”

tick. eyes forward. tock.

“I wonder if you recognized the voice. but probably not. name’s Zoe, maybe that sound familiar?”

and there it is. a tiny hitch in the rhythm, a perfect mechanism straying from its conductor.

“I’m probably calling for the wrong kind of memory. here, maybe this jogs your gears.”

you raise your right hand, still slick and sticky, and clamp it over the doll’s mouth, part its sculpted lips, give it a good whiff of the scent.

it doesn’t turn to look at you, never recoils, never visibly reacts, but you can feel the delightful horror as you feed on the delicacy of its despair.

“right. but back I go, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting. just, uh, almost forgot why I came here!”

you lunge like a cat, give its neck a good squeeze and clamp down for a few seconds, and the thing definitely does not see it coming. its clockwork speeds up, crests an invisible hill, then plummets down and slows and slows, falling towards a forever kind of Stillness.

as the tempo reaches a dangerous adagio, you grab it between its legs and squeeze like you’re milking a stone. its gears seize, and for a hot second you fear you might have broken another toy; and something inside it skips and grinds, and it explodes in a delightful overclocked staccato. the body of the doll almost topples over as the conditioning kicks in and it rights itself, unthinking.

all while you wash your hands with a pathetically tiny dollop of lavender-scented lotion, humming a discordant non-tune to yourself, completely out of its rhythm. rub a little soap in the wound.

“appreciate it, love. see you tomorrow. or maybe not. might sleep over tonight.”

as you leave and receding aftershocks squeeze the last drops of pleasure chemicals out of its thinking substrate, you swear you can see it shudder. ∎

Thorn's Guide To Dating (Your) Apparel

A living plushie seeks dating advice from her closest friend. He works his magic (literal) and helps her open up (literal AND figurative) to new possibilities.

This piece was written as a companion to this commission, done by @bluebearial! Please check out her art she's awesome

CW: this is about as suggestive as i can POSSIBLY make it without making it explicit lmao

“Thorn?” called Lyra, standing outside of their–really, his–dorm room. She knocked on the door. The tiger padded politely, but her pillow-sized paw still met the wood with enough force to rattle the heavy planks in their frame.

“Ooh, you’re back!” came the muffled reply from inside the room, followed by the scraping of a chair and the tapping of much-lighter paws across the floor. It opened, and her host beamed up at her between floppy pink bangs and a puffy ivory dewlap.  “You finally gonna tell me who you’ve been seeing all this time?”

“Thorn, no, oh my goodness.” He pouted, but she continued. “If I tell you who it is, they’re gonna know all about it by tomorrow!”

“Yeah? And how’s that gonna happen?”

“You aren’t exactly famous for thinking before you speak, bestie.”

“Tch. Will you at least tell me how it went?”

“Well,” the tiger began, lowering her head to fit through the doorway as Thorn scrambled out of her way, “it was pretty great… I met them outside of their last class for the day, and we sat together for a while in the dining hall. I didn’t have anything—”

“Obviously,” interrupted the cat, who was now flopped on his bed, kicking his paws in the air behind him.

“—Obviously,” agreed the plush golem, taking his seat at a desk many sizes too small for her. “But, y’know, hearing about somebody’s favorite foods is a fun topic of conversation. And while their hands were full eating, I offered to hold their flash cards, and, and help them study for the midterm they have coming up. And they seemed really excited to tell me about the material, too! So I think that’s a good sign.”

“Well, you’re a great listener, y’know!” Thorn’s smile was as genuine as ever. Though she was still unused to the praise, she smiled down at her lap, pressing the stitched pads of her paws idly together. “Lyraaaa,” he chided. He didn’t think she would protest the compliment, but he wanted to hear her accept it! “I’m not just saying so to be nice! Seriously, this is like, the third time this week they’ve asked you to hang out, right? They must like you.”

“Yeah…” she trailed off. She met Thorn’s eyes briefly, then averted them again, this time without a shy little grin to accompany them.

“Yeah, but?” he prompted.

“Yeah, but… I don’t know what to do? About that?” They stared at each other for a long moment. Lyra wrung and fidgeted with her paws, and Thorn cocked his head to the side as his paws fell to the bed.

“You could… tell them you li—”

“I’m not!! Telling them I like them!” Lyra cut him off, a touch shrill. She’d had to shoot down this idea more than once—Thorn was much, much more headstrong than she was. “Not yet at least! I’m just, not ready to! Well, okay, I’m almost ready. But even when I do tell them, what do we… what do we do? After that?”

“Well, you kind of just start hanging out with each other more than you already do?”

“Okay, yes, I know what dating is—”

“So then what exactly isn’t clicking?”

“Well—you see people kissing and stuff, and I, I know I can do that, and I know couples cuddle and stuff, which, I’m pretty much perfect for—”

“Right! I sleep on you every night, and I think it’s pretty great, so… you should be fine?”

“Yeah, but that’s not all couples do? I dunno, you know I have a lotta free time, and I go through your shelves or trawl the library, and I’ve read a lot about… courtship in different cultures, and, and seen a lot of physiological diagrams, and…” She pressed her snout into her paws, her already-faltering voice muted further by her stuffing. “And there are some romance novels at the library too, which were…”

“Bestie, you learned about boning down in textbooks and penny dreadfuls?”

“LOOK,” she sputtered, throwing her paws in the air, “You know I understand things BETTER when I learn it from the BASICS!” Thorn’s little chair rocked beneath her as her weight shifted back; her tail flicked back and forth behind her.

“Well, I guess some medieval corpse-appraiser’s dick pics are as basic as it gets.” He thoughtfully propped his chin up on his paw. “Especially when you don’t have any lived experience with junk of your own.”

“Exactly,” the plushie moped, leaning on Thorn’s desk, her own cheek deflatedly resting on her own paw.

“I don’t really see why it would come up, though? I mean, you haven’t even asked them out yet, and Lyra, you know I love you, but you wouldn’t make the first move anyway.” She rumbled in acknowledgement, more defeated than offended.

“Yeah, but, what if they make a move? I kinda… can’t.”

“But like, that doesn’t really matter, nyeah? They’ve gotta know sex isn’t really on the table, I mean, ‘being made of fabric’ is maybe the second or third thing people notice about you?”

“Wh—second or third?” She asked, straightening up. “What… what would someone notice first?” Thorn wordlessly placed his paw atop his head—scrunching down his pointy little witch hat—and stretched his arm above himself as far as he could. Yeah, alright. She flopped back down onto his desk.

“Seriously though! You’ve probably read about asexual people too. Those guys still go on loads of dates, plenty of ‘em have partners, all that. It’s just, not a requirement.”

“Yeah, but what if they do want it? Not everybody’s asexual, and, I dunno…” She turned away, half-heartedly hiding her face again. “I think I’d like it too? Not even sex, necessarily, just… there’s something about that kind of physical intimacy that sounds appealing.”

“What happened to you and me literally sharing a bed every night?”

“You know full well it’s more like I am the bed,” she muttered, tossing one of his erasers at him as he giggled.

“Alright, well, let’s think! You wanna be able to fuck this person–”

“Easy!!”

“—But you don’t have anything to do it with—”

“Thorn, we’ve talked about this, absolutely no more unsanctioned fleshcrafting. The faculty is already keeping a close eye on you after—”

“Okay! Okay alright fine, I won’t give you any bits,” he huffed, scrounging for a backup plan. “You said it didn’t have to be literal sex anyway, so… You wanna be real close to ‘em, and you want it to be intimate, and you want it to be kinda horny and kinda touchy?”

“I’m begging you to say things less directly.”

“Well, bestie, ‘straight to the point’ is the only time I’ll ever be straight, and I think I know something that’ll work for you!”

“I’m still not convinced this is gonna be better than the fleshcrafting,” she croaked.

“Trust!”

“You can’t just justify every plan you have by saying ‘tr—’”

Not even halfway through her sentence, Thorn had pounced out of the bed and landed on the opposite side of the room from Lyra. He turned dramatically, flicking his robe to the side like some kind of tiny Dracula, His wand was already in his hand. As it crackled with magic, Lyra briefly wondered where he even kept the damned thing–he was always losing it, but seemed to have it on hand whenever he was about to make an idea of his into someone else’s problem.

She didn’t get to think about it much longer—with some paw-waving and the recitation of some phrases in an old language she was still learning herself, magic arced from the wand to her body, bathing her in soft pink light that made all the fuzz on her fabric stand on end. Whatever he had done didn’t take long, and honestly, didn’t feel like much either; while he stood there, proud of himself, with his paws on his hips, she spent a good thirty seconds patting herself down and twisting in the chair to see where the changes had happened.

“Thorn, what did you even—oh,” she paused, finally noticing a shiny piece of metal poking out of the fluff on her chest. “What? Is this?”

“A zipper!” he grinned.

“A. A zipper? Thorn, you hollowed me out?!”

“Well, not exactly hollowed, but—”

“WHY?”

“Well, alright, so! Something I’ve seen lots of people scrying to each other about is the way that kink stuff is kind of the exact intersection of things you were saying you wanted, right—”

“Kink?? What kink would this even be for?”

“I guess you’d just call it ‘suiting’? There’s a lot of people who want to like, merge with their partner, or who wanna fuck a slime girl specifically or something, and the idea is like, being in someone is just about the closest you can get to them?”

“You want me to ask my crush to wear me?”

“I—”

“Are you INSANE, Thorn???”

“I’m TELLING you, bestie!! If you want intimacy, and you want it to be horny, you’re looking at trust and control! It’s just like how, for a lotta people, the fun part about sex is just having someone treat you right, right?”

“Oh, and you have so much sex to back that up?”

“No,” the catboy replied plainly and pleasantly.

“UGH.”

“Just look! I know you make me feel all comfy when I curl up on you for the night, so imagine how pampered someone would feel being surrounded by you! They’d be able to let you make all the decisions for a bit, since you’d be walking ‘em around. And forget the kind of trust it takes to ‘let someone in’, like, emotionally—it’d be a real meaningful gesture to let them in physically!” Lyra stared back at him for a moment. She couldn’t find anything… wrong, with what he was saying, but she just couldn’t believe she’d let him do this.

“Why do I ask you for help? Ever? You’d think, you’d think I’d learn to at least ask you to hand me your wand, first, or something—”

“C’moooon, will you at least see how it feels? You’re lookin’ at a B+ in transmutation right there! I put a lotta perfectly good mana into that spell!”

“Agh, fine.”

The plush was becoming acutely aware of how much lighter the inside of her chest felt, anyway; it was worth having a look around, if for no reason but to get to grips with the sensation. She looked down at the pull of the zipper and reached a paw up to grab it. It was small compared to the rest of her body—she struggled to grip it with her paw pads, almost as though it wasn’t designed for her use despite being a part of her body.

When she did finally find purchase, she found that she could feel through the metal. She rubbed the tab between two digits. Another feeling welled up inside her, occupying the same space as the hollowness in her chest, but not displacing it. And the sensation of fabric on metal… definitely wasn’t unpleasant. She moved to pull the tab down her chest, but glanced up at Thorn, who was staring straight back at her.

“D-do you mind?” she asked. He tucked his paws behind his back and coyly looked away. Whatever, they’d seen plenty of each other as it was. Slowly, she pulled, and slowly the zipper glided open; tens of tiny snaps, layering over each other into a harmonious little vvvvrrrrrr, reverberated through her chest and down her back. The teeth of the zipper had barely even parted, and already she felt… exposed. “Naked” wasn’t quite the word—she seldom wore clothes anyway, given her original situation of having nothing to cover. The feeling was something else entirely.

She hesitated to pull the zipper all the way down, instead opting to feel around the new opening in her torso, hoping to get a better look at her own insides. As soon as the fur on her paw brushed against the inner lining of her chest, she sat bolt upright, nearly knocking the chair over. It was a powerful sensation—an entirely new one, too. She couldn’t name it, but she knew she was sensitive on the inside, almost delicate. And yet, she wanted to touch more—she wanted to feel more. She ventured her paw, uncertain and trembling, into herself again. This time, she gasped, and the heaving of her chest caused yet more of her lining to drag against her paw. Her eyes were wide, her snout frozen open. The hollowness inside her chest had become a tingling ache, and she felt it everywhere; the cavity of her chest, the sleeves formed by her limbs, all freshly-exposed to air were yearning for something. She did not know the feeling was something else entirely.

“Leylines and divines,” she huffed, voice fluttering with breath that suddenly seemed to escape her, “What did you do to me, Thorn?”to me, Thorn?”

“Uh,” he stumbled, evidently as stunned as she was. “I may have included an amothurgic incantation or two in there, to um, give you a little confidence? But I would call that, maybe, a C-, at best?”

“That seems a little generous,” Lyra said, voice eerily level, unsettlingly focused, “and I’m going to smother you with my own two paws when I get back.”

“Get back?” His ears flicked forward, his wits finally back about him. “Where are you going?”

The question barely even registered in Lyra’s mind—it was fully occupied imagining the sensation of heaviness that might come with being worn. The buzz of her zipper, opening up in the deft hands of her soon-to-be occupant; the feeling of someone squirming around inside her, settling in, getting comfortable, setting every inch of her insides alight with the touch of a trusted partner; each part of her, stuffed, cotton filling shoved aside and woolen lining stretched as arm occupied arm and leg occupied leg. She imagined someone looking through her eyes, breathing the same air as them, as they wriggled their head into the vacant space inside her own, minds more closely-aligned than she could ever have conceived of before. She imagined fumbling with her own zipper, faltering and shuddering from the flood of every other sensation, and finally sealing her companion, her confidante, her co-pilot, within herself. She wanted that feeling of fullness—if her mouth could water, she might just have drooled at the notion.

“I’m gonna go find my crush.”

“Oh. Oh.” Lyra was already moving for the door. “Well good luck!! GET it, bestie!! You’ll tell me everything, right?”

“Of course,” she said, halfway out of the room.

“Do you think I’ll be able to climb in when you get back?” Thorn called after her.

“Don’t push your luck,” she scolded, turning and leaning back into the doorframe to shoot daggers at him. She started down the hall, then once again turned and leaned to make eye contact. “Let me see whether they’re okay sharing me.”

“YES!” She heard over her shoulder. “I’m gonna sleep SO GOOD tonight!!” She rubbed her face with her paws, frustrated in more ways than one. If she let him crawl out of bed in the next week, it’d be a miracle for both of them.