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FlowerMouse

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  • Content Count

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About FlowerMouse

  • Rank
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    fuck no

Personal Information

  • My pronouns are..
    she/her

My Kinks

  • I'm into..
    Bathroom Control
    Cuddling
    Furry
    Gender bender
    Pleasure control
    Stomach bulging

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  1. Yukon's two brains churned like traditionally made butter. Doubt muddled his mind. He was not informed by his friend that humans could naturally explode. He shook his head, dissipating the thoughts. If he was going to explode, than he would need to save these innocent, costumed humans! First, however, he needed a distraction. "Why is everyone here in costume?" he asked. Unfortunately, he didn't get the memo that the skull furry did not want to be bothered. "I'm going to a furry convention," the smaller man snapped. "You're riding in a bus for four hours just to wander around and look at some merchandise?" The furry looked out the window, slapped in the face by reality. With a slight chuckle, he quietly remarked, "My dad was going to kick me out of my room if I didn't get out of the house." He dug his hands further into his crotch. "Though I kinda regret that now." Yukon shifted his coat uncomfortably, knowing he had little time left before something big happened. He shoved his three fingered hands into his coat pockets. Suddenly, a fact emerged from his deep inside his two brains, and bubbled up to his stream of consciousness. His coat was explosion-proof! He cursed himself, wondering why he didn't think of it earlier. "Do you want my jacket?" he offered. Even with his mask on, the short furry stared at him with utter bafflement and confusion. "Why the fuck would I want your jacket?" he uttered. "To dampen the damage caused by your explosion, of course!" He howled a barking laugh. His body shuddered, as he squashed his thighs together as hard as he could. "Explosion? Do you really think I have a bomb strapped to my chest? I'm middle-eastern, but not that kind of middle-eastern!" he mocked. Yukon breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he wasn't about to be shredded into smithereens. He visibly relaxed in his bouncing, dirty bus chair. Erin curiously tilted his head at the tall man. "Did you really think that I was going to explode?" "Yes. I am a foreigner, I do not understand your complex language." "Oh," he breathed, as he was reminded of his own past. "Sorry." "No, no, the pleasure's all mine." The furry, not understanding why he did so, possibly out of awkwardness, laughed a little. However, it was enough to shake his bladder to the tune of his snickers. A spurt of piss ran down his leg, than another, until his sore, aching muscles finally gave up. "Oh-! No, no, oh, fuck-" he whined, but his protests did nothing against the tidal wave that was pulsating from his body. A loud torrent shot out of his crotch, and emptied itself onto his legs. Large amount of liquid streamed down his blue jeans, staining them, and hot piss was absorbed in the felt bus seat. He shuddered, as his body was filled to the brim with relief. "This is so embarrassing," he moaned under his breath. The bus was painstakingly quiet, apart from the thundering of piss hitting the bus floor. After for what seemed like too long, liquid stopped gushing out of his pants. The air smelled strange. Attempting to break the awful, dingy silence, Yukon declared, "What the explosion, my friend! That looked like it took a lot of effort." The furry silently nodded. A sniffle could be heard under the mask. "Do not grieve! Your body will make plenty more, I bet." He shakily laughed, filled with awful shame and embarrassment. The tall man checked his watch. "Say, I have the time. Why don't I come with you to this event you're going to? I hope I don't need a costume." With a sniff, he muttered, "Yeah, that'd... That'd be great." A few minutes later, with an added tearful apology to the bus driver, a strange pair of men walked down the street together.
  2. whoops yeah I did copy paste it twice. Sorry! It's not letting me edit the post so... yeah... ^^;
  3. I'm imagining the comic character I see on the magazines in Publix lol I don't know if that makes it better or worse : P
  4. I'll have to check this game out; the way you wrote it, it seems pretty nice ;) For a beginner, you did really well! If you want to do more writing, here's a good site that explains how to format dialogue.
  5. It was a cloudless afternoon, as Yukon shivered at the bus stop. He adjusted his facemask with his three-fingered hand, making sure his nose wasn't crooked. Yellow irises hid behind green contact lenses. Annoyed with the weather, he fidgeted with his trench coat, and glanced at his watch. Five minutes late. Grumbling, he scanned his environment; a tall city surrounded the nearly seven foot “man”. “Moderately intelligent,” he thought to himself, now glancing at the stoic city citizens, “Though on my planet, out buses aren’t late.” As soon as he thought of it, a bus started to shake and stop. It opened its doors with a loud clang. Stepping inside, and giving money to the driver, he instantaneously encountered a problem. Nearly every seat was full. However, that wasn’t the main issue. The thing was, the bus was full of furries. Every last human was in costume. He fearfully tucked in his lips, as he started shambling to the last open seat. His brain churned with why there were so many of them. Getting situated in his seat, he felt the bus chug and grind down the street. He was about to ask his seatmate why he was there, when he noticed something odd. While everyone else was sitting still, the person to the left of him was wiggling. Assuming that the human was a male, he crossed his legs, and stuck his hands in his groin. Small grunts of effort could be heard periodically. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans, and donned a skull head that had black fur. A black bookbag attempted to make a wall between them. Scratching the side of his face, he asked, “Need any assistance?” “If you have a water bottle, that’d be nice,” he joked. Unfortunately, understanding jokes was not something that Yukon did. “I do not have those. My apologies,” he explained. Putting his hands on the seats, he stated, “No, no, you’re cool.” A sense silence rose between the wiggling furry, and the giant “man”. Feeling he didn’t make a great first impression, he stuck out his hand for the other to shake, human-style. “Hello!” he greeted. “My name is Yukon. What’s yours?” “What happened to your hand?” Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “What do you mean?” he asked attempting to root out the nervousness in his voice. The skull-human showed him his own hand, which had five, long, skinny fingers. “Ah. Well, um,” he muttered, trying to find an excuse, “I had an accident.” With a chuckle, he stated jokingly, “I’m about to have one right now.” As soon as he said that, he realized that it wasn’t funny at all, and only made the atmosphere worse. Sulking, the furry stared out the window, wiggling his hips. Yukon wondered what he meant by accident. “You didn’t tell me your name,” he stated, trying not to sound like a predator. “Oh,” he quietly spoke, “Erin.” A silence yet again drifted between them. Hoping he wasn’t too annoying, Yukon asked, “Why are you wiggling so much?” Trying to hide his annoyance, Erin responded, “Well, I live in the country out East, so I’ve never been to a big city. I’ve been on this damn bus for… Err, what time is it?” “Nine o’ clock,” he reported. “Four fucking hours!” he hissed. Gripping himself, he groaned, “I’m going to explode.” “Explode?!” Yukon thought, eyes wide open. It was a cloudless afternoon, as Yukon shivered at the bus stop. He adjusted his facemask with his three-fingered hand, making sure his nose wasn't crooked. Yellow irises hid behind green contact lenses. Annoyed with the weather, he fidgeted with his trench coat, and glanced at his watch. Five minutes late. Grumbling, he scanned his environment; a tall city surrounded the nearly seven foot “man”. “Moderately intelligent,” he thought to himself, now glancing at the stoic city citizens, “Though on my planet, out buses aren’t late.” As soon as he thought of it, a bus started to shake and stop. It opened its doors with a loud clang. Stepping inside, and giving money to the driver, he instantaneously encountered a problem. Nearly every seat was full. However, that wasn’t the main issue. The thing was, the bus was full of furries. Every last human was in costume. He fearfully tucked in his lips, as he started shambling to the last open seat. His brain churned with why there were so many of them. Getting situated in his seat, he felt the bus chug and grind down the street. He was about to ask his seatmate why he was there, when he noticed something odd. While everyone else was sitting still, the person to the left of him was wiggling. Assuming that the human was a male, he crossed his legs, and stuck his hands in his groin. Small grunts of effort could be heard periodically. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans, and donned a skull head that had black fur. A black bookbag attempted to make a wall between them. Scratching the side of his face, he asked, “Need any assistance?” “If you have a water bottle, that’d be nice,” he joked. Unfortunately, understanding jokes was not something that Yukon did. “I do not have those. My apologies,” he explained. Putting his hands on the seats, he stated, “No, no, you’re cool.” A sense silence rose between the wiggling furry, and the giant “man”. Feeling he didn’t make a great first impression, he stuck out his hand for the other to shake, human-style. “Hello!” he greeted. “My name is Yukon. What’s yours?” “What happened to your hand?” Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “What do you mean?” he asked attempting to root out the nervousness in his voice. The skull-human showed him his own hand, which had five, long, skinny fingers. “Ah. Well, um,” he muttered, trying to find an excuse, “I had an accident.” With a chuckle, he stated jokingly, “I’m about to have one right now.” As soon as he said that, he realized that it wasn’t funny at all, and only made the atmosphere worse. Sulking, the furry stared out the window, wiggling his hips. Yukon wondered what he meant by accident. “You didn’t tell me your name,” he stated, trying not to sound like a predator. “Oh,” he quietly spoke, “Erin.” A silence yet again drifted between them. Hoping he wasn’t too annoying, Yukon asked, “Why are you wiggling so much?” Trying to hide his annoyance, Erin responded, “Well, I live in the country out East, so I’ve never been to a big city. I’ve been on this damn bus for… Err, what time is it?” “Nine o’ clock,” he reported. “Four fucking hours!” he hissed. Gripping himself, he groaned, “I’m going to explode.” “Explode?!” Yukon thought, eyes wide open. Posting the rest later B)
  6. The sun sauntered to the horizon, washing the quaint, old town in a pleasant pink. The brightly colored European-styled buildings dazzled with hints of glitter in their bricks. Candy cane telephone poles soared high into the air. A young man on a horse trotted down a pink, dusty, dirt street. He had shaggy, peppermint striped hair, with blue freckles. His mint-white skin was covered by a plain, warm coat, and long, black pants with boots. He gripped his horse's reigns, as he wished he had brought a scarf. "If I have to deliver one more package in this freezing weather," he chattered, "I'm going to become a fucking pop-sickle." Despite the innocent, playful aura of the land, curse words were still used. How many on a daily basis appeared was based on the community. He saw multiple people scowl at him. He assumed they didn't like it so much. He complained, "Of course, this guy's stupid present or whatever is halfway across town." Digging into his coat pocket, he discreetly tried to hold himself. "And this is one of the best days that I don't get a break, too. Warren better give me an extra few dimes this time around." Feeling self-conscious, he put his humanoid hands onto the horse. He steered her to the right, entering a new street. "Are horses supposed to have socks or something?" he asked the horse. "I live down south, so I really don't know." The horse could not answer because she was a horse. He uncomfortably adjusted himself, as the horse jiggled on. The constant bouncing of the horse was making his bladder's muscles weak. "Maybe I can get one of those lady saddles," he joked to himself. A sudden sharp jolt made him bite his lip. He hunched forward, gripping himself. Sharp feelings raced up and down his spine, making his limbs jittery. He whispered a string of curses, as he pleaded his bladder not to give up just yet. The young man pressed his thighs together, hoping that his need would cease. After a few seconds of fear, his nervous system stopped signaling. He whispered pitifully, "At least let me deliver this god-fucking package." The pair made their way down sprawling paths. Tall, brick structures blocked out the lowering sun. Carriges, horse riders and people were the many annoyances on the road. Their path lead them to the outskirts of town, where mint grass could be seen. Licorice fences bordered the road. His face donned a hopeful smile, as he directed the horse to a distant mansion. A large, fancy house soon appeared in view. The pair trotted down a crumbly, gram cracker road. The landscape was dotted with colorful jawbreakers and gumdrops. "Wish me luck," he whispered to the mare, as he tightly gripped the package. He swung his leg over the horse, and landed on the ground with a heavy thud. His body shuddered, as he felt all liquid slosh against his will. Tingling nerves signlaled extreme need. Thighs clamped together, he took a deep breath. One hand held a package, and the other his groin. He waddled up to the shimmering silver front porch, and pounded his fist on the door. Instantaneously, a maid ripped open the door. "Package for Mister Locke," he declared. With shy hands, the dark blue maid daintily received the package. She chirped, "I will give this to him right away." She paused, as she took a second to study the odd man. He was bouncing on his heels, shivering and wiggling in the cold. He looked pathetic. "Are you sure you don't want to come in for a minute?" she asked, "You look extremely uncomfortable." He hoped she was just talking about the weather. "I'm fine," he squeaked, "Have a good day, ma'am!" He shuffled into the cold, adding a polite goodbye wave in order to signal the conversation to an end. "For a minute?" she offered, "It really looks like you need a ba-" "Goodbye, ma'am," he stressed, annoyed. He quickly hurried back to his horse, which was patiently watching him. With a bite of his hip, and a blue tinted face of cold and embarrassment, he hopped onto his horse. She quickly trotted down the path they came from. Only now, his need seemed to worsen threefold. His fingers, numb from the cold, dug into his crotch. He steered his horse every so often, winding down the mansion path into the main road. He tried to search for a private spot, but even in the outskirts of the sprawling town, there seemed to be humanoids littered everywhere. "How big is this place?" he whispered, bright green eyes wide with wonder. He fidgeted constantly, as the stables drew into view. His face grew hopeful, but a strong sensation overcame his body. Horrified, he felt his muscles spasm. A long dribble of piss shot down his neg. "Fuck-! We're so close!" he muttered, clamping his muscles as hard as he could. He bent over in effort, as his hand tried to hold his liquids in as best as he could. No amount of fidgeting could keep him comfortable. Finally, they arrived at the quiet barn doors. The sky was now a dark indigo, casting frightening shadows on the land down below. Biting his lip, and scrunching his face in concentration, he tried his best to delicately fold his legs over his horse. With attempted delicate precision, he flopped onto the ground. Instantaneously, he felt his muscles loosen. Relief swept through his body. "No, no, no," he whined, feeling the shame of assorted eyes scanning him, "Not now!" Too late. A loud rush of liquids broke the peaceful silence of the country night. He tightly bit his lip, as he tried to tighten his muscles. However, they had given up. Liquid pooled into his underwear, than soaked his pants. Shame clashed with relief. Warm piss sloshed against his legs, creating a distinct stain. Despite his efforts to keep quiet, a moan escaped his lips. An indescribable amount of liquid burst out of him. Finally, after what seemed like a very long minute, he could hear the final droplets of piss hit the now soaked dirt. Swallowing the shameful lump in his throat, he croaked, "Well, um... This is inconvenient." He detested the part of him that wanted to do it again. He reasoned that it was because the air was cold, and his liquids weren't. However, the stiff feeling in his groin seemed to cancel that theory. With shaking legs, he wobbled over to his intently watching horse, and unlocked the barn door. A waft of horse stench and hay filled his nostrils. He, however, was used to it. They waltzed over to the pen. Knowing what to do, she wandered into it. He took off her reigns, and set it on a hook. He was about to turn around and face criticism from his mother, when he heard a voice claim, "Hey, Erian!" He whipped around, fearful that somebody was going to make fun of him. "Who said that?" he squeaked. "Me," confidently stated his horse. His bright green eyes widened. His throat grew dry, as his face took on a more embarrassed blue. He shrieked, "Macy?! I thought talking horses were only legend!" "Well," she explained, "I guess not." The man gawked at his horse, who looked very amused. He sputtered out nonsense words. "Anyway," she continued, "I just wanted to thank you for today." He blinked, confused. "You treat me so well. My riders before you used to beat me. You talk to me! And I appreciate that." He whimpered a small thank you. "Do you know what else I appreciate? You putting on that show a minute ago. I was bored. Like, really bored. Walking in the same town every day gets boring! However, when you were wiggling and moaning, I was like, "Wow! Is he going going to make it or nah?" Also, the moaning was a good plus." She bounced her eyebrows. "Anyway, Erian, you're a good man. Keep at it." He felt a surge of both confidence and humiliation. At least she wasn't mentioning the liquids part. "Also," she mentioned, "You stink." "You too, pea-brain," he drawled, feeling worn out from the new experiences he was having. He slowly turned around, quietly slinking to the door. "Did you mean p-e-e brain, or p-e-a brain?" she called after him, as he shut the door. He sighed, as he turned around back to the path. He gazed into the dark sky, shimmering with stars. He thought he was going to be walking home with one problem, but ended up walking home with two. Thanks for reading my clusterfuck! (That's a cool word; people should use it more.)
  7. Wow! I've never thought of it as cute and innocent. Yeah, I'd call it that, comparing it so some weird things like those latex suits. (Sorry if you like them, they're pretty weird tho) And thanks to everybody not yelling at me because I'm not an adult yet! I appreciate all of your advice. <3
  8. I'm having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that I have a weird fetish. I shame myself for browsing omo porn (or whatever the hell you call it). I know that it's not uncommon to be into something weird, and I know that I'm not going to be hunted by the FBI for looking at a grown man struggle to hold his piss. Even typing those last few words, my brain has a negative reaction. When I first signed up for this site, I thought, "Am I really doing this? Do I need to do this?" How do I stop shaming myself, or how can I cope with it?
  9. FlowerMouse

    The story

    This is a great start! However, I'd like to point out some things with your writing so that readers can better understand your story. When I first read the beginning, I had a hard time trying to figure out what job they had. A marketing team's job is to create commercials, research where to sell their product to get the most profits, and what price to set the product as. I don't work in marketing, but I'm not sure if workers go to clients. I think they would be better labeled as salespeople. Another thing; I might just be braindead, but what does a birthday suit have to do with office people? It made me envision Ariel as a clown :P. I'd also like to mention the weird time skip. Alex goes from peeking at Ariel's activities, to being in what I assume a meeting, or a party. A sentence that describes time, like "A few days later, Alex slipped into his company meeting/party," would be very helpful in distinguishing setting. Hopefully this helped! Can't wait to see the next part >:)
  10. FlowerMouse

    The story

    You can post stories to the Fiction part of the forums.
  11. Also idk if I'm going to continue this one since I have no other ideas for these two (even though I love them both). I'll have to do some major brainstorming D:
  12. argh i KNEW someone would pester me about it! >:V And thanks :P
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