BAD END BAIT

This is AI, and the poster is not taking it down

A propaganda poster of a red-furred fox (Arcana) clad in a latex outfit, harness, pink specs, and with a bat on her back jumping out of a window, conjured shards raining down around her. The text at the bottom reads "INFORMATION IS LIBERATION"

The same poster, edited by me to have a dark purple background and more glow around Arcana.

"And here I was, thinking this'd be a boring retrieval! How about I break out the old tricks then, just for y'all~"

Got this AWESOME piece from @shapelessink.bsky.social, if you need some deliciously deviant art PLEASE check him out~

#furryart #korps #villainsinvisors #latex

In truth this one was a joint effort between me and @hellhoundotaku.bsky.social but it was too good not to steal

Oh gods, thank you for the recommendation! I'm glad people are still reading a year out from me posting it! Being compared to other legendary works in the fandom is a unique joy, your words and attention are ever-much appreciated <3

Mayonnaise packets

"White age regressors? Oh, you mean-"

Young furries, do not buy this repulsive slop

Support actual furry artists if you want silly furry merch, they're out there and they're happy to oblige, and you won't be feeding a machine looking to capitalize on your subculture

Corporate shitposting needed to be smothered in the crib, istg

It is! Something that all good dolls understand well!

It's okay hun, we can find a way that you can make it up~

I didn't know about this Signal For Help hand gesture until today. I'm quite sure that a lot of other people don't know it either (as demonstrated in this video). If you just learned it now too then it was worth posting.

Wikipedia: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Signal_...

No you aren't, don't lie to us dear~

WHORE OR HORROR THREAD - DAY 6

Prompt: Outdoor, Humiliation, Intoxication - Whore

#furrywriting #WhoreorHorror25

Even Momma has weaknesses. Especially when she's 3 wine glasses deep.

But nobody in attendance would forget Momma's blushing face and beautiful tears as she came for them all.

#WhoreOrHorror25

She even began drinking a bit more regularly — and, serendipitously, letting her girls overwhelm her more regularly. And eventually, most of that incident was lost to time, with only its aftershocks to show for the advent.

And when she could not bring herself to say that safe word, she knew her fate sealed.

In time, many would forget that night. Despite her worst fears, Momma lost no respect in the community; on the contrary, many applauded her for embracing her more submissive side so publicly.

But as she cried out in futile protest, one of her darlings whispered in her ear the words she'd instilled in each and every one of them on day one.

"'No' isn't your safe word."

In her cocktail of emotions, she attempted to marshal one last comeback. She retracted her tongue just enough to speak, to form words that might just avert the fate her throbbing sex told her was on the horizon.

…Did she care?

Sitting there, being reduced to a shuddering, whimpering thing at the hands of her own pets, Momma wasn't disparaged by the looks of arousal and catharsis on everyone's faces. She was turned on. Really, really fucking turned on.

An arcane mix of panic and pleasure inundated Momma's senses, the entire room swirling around her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been submissive, especially not for such an audience. Would they all know now? Would they get ideas about "putting her in her place"?

Even when they were in control, they knew who held their leash. Perhaps this would have gone on for minutes, hours, ad infinitum, had those ensorcelled drinks taken the mistress' mind completely. But her hooded eyes caught the gaze of someone in the crowd around them, and…

Oh, gods, a crowd.

The softest of bites, the most tender of licks, fingers creeping under her robe to brush against her nipples while nails dug pointedly into the fat of her inner thighs. All while that plaything most ambitious held lapped so dutifully at her sex, polishing Momma's cock with aplomb and reverence.

It was clear her girls had a weakness for their Momma, but only in moments like this was she reminded that she'd hand picked a harem of her own kryptonite. And oh, how they knew how to worship their lady.

Momma scarcely recognized the sound of her own desperate pants, so lost in the smothering of her darlings. Every attempted word stymied by a kiss, at the neck, on the cheek, or somewhere more naughty. Hands pinned down — Intentionally? She wasn't salient enough to tell — by their luscious bodies.

In front of so many people, in such a public place, where just about anyone could walk in… Yet here they were, sighing and groaning in pleasure and need. Making themself so wonderfully stupid, losing themself, succumbing to lust…

Except, that was not only her pet.

When the kisses against her jock came, she managed to keep her sighs of pleasure contained. From under the table, a mouth began to work her just how she liked it. There was more arousing her than just the sensation; it was the power, the knowing that someone just couldn't help themselves!

The heat welling in all of her most sensitive spots. The smattering of party-goers increasingly more and more interested in their little corner…

When she felt hot breath against her sex, she did not wonder or object. Only her eyes could bother to widen in surprise.

Brought down to their level, Momma sat in her befuddlement, drinking in the scene just as she had those spirits. The lush beauty of the venue, stylized like a garden. The soft caresses and touches of her myriad arm candy. The low mood lighting that perfectly encouraged depravity.

An attempt to stand on her heeled feet almost sent her spiraling to the ground; thankfully, one of her girls noticed and caught her. She was sat between them, all fawning over her to ensure her safety. It had just been a while since she'd been so drunk was all; no need to worry their little heads.

Not especially uncommon, and usually Momma would turn such appeals away, but… what was the harm? Wasn't being a domme about being spoiled, after all?

So she drunk it down, taking time to nurse her drink. Perhaps the subtly of that slide is what kept her from realizing just how intoxicated she was.

All was normal, excepting the delightful buzz that radiated through her, warming from her cheeks to her toes, and every little crevice in between. There were no plans for glass number three — it simply appeared before her, "from an admirer" according to the bartender.

She enjoyed the usual festivities of the event; catching up with the other dommes, playing with her girls, turning down the occasional uncollared sub who asked after her (but not without giving them some flusterment for the trouble).