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FarfLord

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About FarfLord

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  • My pronouns are..
    he/him

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  • I'm into..
    Exhibitionism
    Furry
    Futanari

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  1. Cross it very carefully. Not only would getting shot, y'know, hurt, but it might also make her lose control.
  2. If she's not careful he's going to burst... Unless, of course, that's exactly what she wants to happen. It'd be what I'd want to happen, at any rate
  3. Snom (new gen 8 pokemon) is so adorable and doofy I want to see it pee itself (anthro, guy/girl is fine no preference)
  4. It's probably best to capitalize on her increased Charisma while it's still active. Convince them that an acceptable alternative to peeing in front of them is to go somewhere a little more private, like behind one of the trees or bushes, and provide some sort of evidence that she released. Peeing in the empty bottle could work. Failing that, I think the next best option would be to try and scale the wall's rough brickwork. Either she'll get up there safely, getting to the next trial, or she'll pee herself trying, which would technically allow her entry. Maybe it would, anyway. Arguably a win-win, if you consider peeing yourself on accident more of a win than doing it on purpose.
  5. That second-to-last option only brings to mind two items: the wet cloth and the potion. Wasting the potion would be unwise, so it looks like a good course of action here is to throw the wet cloth under its feet to make it slip up. If that doesn't work, continuing the method we have now is probably our best bet.
  6. It's huge and made of stone, so a sword's gonna do jack, but it's gonna be really slow, so the best option is to avoid it and pick it off with magic, it looks like. (hopefully i haven't missed the boat on this *too* hard)
  7. you're gonna be hard pressed to find someone who'll draw two images, one of which with 5 characters, for $20
  8. So uh... I don't know how to post stories properly, and this is the first (omo) one I've ever written. It's probably not great but enjoy it anyway. I'm normally a vanilla smut writer, not a lemon one. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was past 2 AM. The streets were lit by naught but the streetlamps and the glow of moonlight. No one was outside, it was just too dark. Well, almost no one. A lone thief walked about in the isolating darkness, looking into darkened windows for easy marks. The zigzagoon girl strolled the streets and alleyways, breasts and butt bouncing free with no clothes holding them save a carrying bag for her ill-gotten cookies. That night, however, the bag was empty. A disappointing excursion, and fatigue of a few sorts began to set in, including... "Ugh, gotta pee... fuck, do I want to go for one more place? What to do..." she rested a finger on her chin and closed her eyes to think, leaning on a wall. She assessed the situation; It shouldn't take too long to get in and out of an apartment, and she was already leaning on the wall of a small row of them. She could hold it and still make it home alright. "...One more can't hurt," she said, opening her eyes and turning to the apartments. They're small places, meant for people on low budgets. Success, unfortunately, wasn't expected, but it couldn’t hurt to check, and a failed run only requires coming in and out. She picked a door, one with no lights on, and deftly picked the lock. The cheap thing wasn't a match for her skill, and she opened the door to the inside, locking it behind her to create a warning system. There weren't a lot of furnishings, but there was a small kitchen near the entrance, which was where she headed first. She opened the fridge, nothing. No cookies, not much food at all. She opened the cupboards above and below the counters, nothing. Half of them were empty, and the others had things like pots, pans, dishes, or canned foods. Disappointed, she explored further. The living room was in the same area immediately after the front door, and there was a sofa, battered coffee table, and TV in there. When she started looking next to the sofa, an end table with a precious, precious box of cookies revealed itself, and she immediately snatched it and put it in her bag. She sighed in satisfaction and walked back toward the door, ready to leave. "Finally, something to make tonight worthwhile. Now I just have to-" she stopped dead in her tracks. The door was being unlocked. Thinking quickly, she dashed back to the kitchen and ducked into one of the empty cupboards, the front door opening almost immediately after she shut the cupboard's. She heard the man's footsteps, then the sound of him lying on the couch and flicking on the TV. She cursed under her breath at the terrible luck of it all. With the living room right next to the entrance, she had no choice but to wait for him to go to bed, or to the bathroom, or something. She closed her legs tight beneath her as she hid in the cupboard, hoping she wouldn't get caught, or worse, wet herself. Every time the commercials started, the man would come to the kitchen for a refill of water, or snacks, or something. At least the cupboard she was in was empty, but the noise of footsteps, the fridge, or other cupboards opening was maddening, reminding her of her predicament. Even worse, the growing pressure in her crotch was getting harder and harder to ignore or fight, making each minute feel like an interminably long amount of time. Cookie could barely keep track of the time inside a dark cupboard, but it had to have been at least 2 hours or so, judging from the commercial breaks, even if it felt like years. Her legs were getting stiff and sore from the cramped space, and she felt like she could start to leak at any moment. She whimpered softly and buried her hands between her legs, trying to hold back the inevitable for just long enough for the man to leave the couch, but he just wouldn't go. "No, no, no..." she softly muttered as a drop of urine escaped her, and then another, and another, wetting her palms. She had to escape now, caution be damned. Maybe he would be too focused on the TV to spot her. It didn't matter, she couldn't let anything drip onto the cupboard floor, so she had to escape. Opening the cupboard door, softly, carefully, and peeking out, she saw nothing. Now to carefully exit. Her legs, stiff and sore, ached to stretch out and stand up, but she had to gently step out of the cupboard first, the pose required making it maddeningly hard to hold and nearly making her lose control on the spot. Another jet of piss escaped her, this time splashing onto her thigh. She didn't have much time, but she'd be free soon, hopefully. And then she heard him get up. "F-fuck, not now..." she whispered. She had gotten so focused on holding herself that she hadn't been listening to the TV, and now she was going to pay the price. She couldn't get back into the cupboard, there wasn't enough time and she'd probably piss herself trying. The footsteps got closer and closer. There wasn't any escape, not with her time and in her state. She couldn't do anything but freeze up and grab her crotch. She could only hope that she could last just barely long enough for him to throw her out, and that she at least wouldn't wet herself in front of him. The footsteps closed in. They stopped, and the words she feared were let forth. "Hey, what are you doing in my house?!" The shout startled her even though she was prepared. She froze. Her muscles tensed up, and then, by now far out of her control, relaxed. It was all over. "Eep! I, um, uh... f-fuck, ah, no..." she stuttered, whimpering as she lost control of her body right in front of his eyes. A hot, yellow-tinted river poured forth from her crotch, matting the fur of her inner thigh and leg with wetness, stripes of brown and cream turning darker as the stream flowed over them. A puddle slowly grew on the floor and soaked her feet as neither of them could do anything but watch in shock. The normally shameless thief was now on the brink of tears in front of the same man she was robbing two hours earlier, soaked with urine from the waist down. Even after the flow ebbed, and then finally stopped, neither of them could do anything but stare at each other. The man was the first to speak, after what felt like an eternity of awkward, stunned silence. “I’m calling the cops.” The statement made Cookie’s eyes widen, and adrenaline course into her body, unfreezing it from its shocked stupor. She didn’t let him turn around before she tried to bolt for the door. Unluckily for her, his reflexes and proximity to the doorway won out, and he caught her by the arm mid-stride, making her nearly fall over and empty herself even further. “No, you aren’t getting out of this one. If you want me to keep quiet that bad, you’d better clean up your mess and give back everything you took, and then I’ll punish you personally.” “Please, I’ll do anything you ask, just keep this incident quiet. I’ll never bother you again.” “You’d better fucking not bother me again. Get to work.” He pushed her back into the kitchen and pointed to the paper towels on the counter. She got the message and took the roll, ripping off several sheets and laying them onto the puddle, pressing them down. She grimaced every time the urine soaked through, and laid down another sheet, pressing it down, repeating the cycle until they stopped soaking through. “Trash them and get a mop. It’s in the closet.” She complied, not trying anything as he let her leave the kitchen to get the mop and fill the bucket with soapy water. The splashing sound of the bucket filling made her wince with embarrassment, acutely reminding her of what she had just done. Without incident, she diligently mopped the entire kitchen’s floor, leaving it spotless as if Cookie has never been there at all. “Good.” The man sighed, happy that he didn’t have to deal with it himself. “That’s one less problem for me. Now, what did you steal?” “Just the cookies on the end table, sir.” “Bullshit, give me your bag.” She complied immediately, taking off the bag and handing it to him. He opened it with vigor and found that she was entirely honest, nothing but the box of cheap cookies inside. “You… just stole cookies.” “Yes.” “You broke into my house, hid inside for God knows how long, and pissed yourself, for a box of grocery store cookies.” “Yes.” “You know they sell these for like, three dollars, right?” “Yes.” The man just silently shook his head in bewilderment and put the cookies on the counter. He stayed silent for a moment, then spoke as he returned her now-empty bag. “I don’t even know if I want to make you do anything else. You really just came here to steal my cookies and bounce?” “I’m not lying. I didn’t expect you to not be home and then come back late at night.” “Fucking… hell, alright. My stuff is back, my floor is clean, the only thing left to deal with is you. I’m going to keep you here overnight.” “Really? You still want to do me after seeing me-” “Let me finish. You’re going to stay here until the morning. You aren’t going to leave this living room for any reason. You will drink all the water I give you, and you’ll tell me when you have to go again.” “Th-that’s it? You aren’t into this, are you?” “...no. I’m just teaching you a lesson. Publicly embarrassing yourself on your way home should be appropriate payback for doing it all over my floor.” “Wait, publicly? No, please, I don’t… I don’t want anyone to know about this, much less have it happen again. I’ll do anything else.” “You’re… okay, fine, you’re pretty hot, but I’ve made up my mind. You’d be hotter if I hadn’t just watched you piss yourself.” “Please? Maybe I can make you forget about that.” She rubbed up against him, her huge, exposed breasts pressing lewdly against his chest. She slowly reached a hand down to his crotch, but he slapped it away. Not quickly enough to keep her from noticing he was hard, though. “Oh, you really are into ‘that,’ aren’t you?” She smirked at him, watching his face turn red with embarrassment. She could tell, he knew he was caught. Now he was the one getting embarrassed in front of her, and she had the upper hand. “No, I just… it was your body, you were pressing against me… fine! We can do that later, you already know my address.” “No, no, it’s fine, I know what you like, I’ll drink all the water you want me to.” “That’s… ugh! Fine, you win, you got me, are you happy? I won’t tell anyone about what happened if you won’t. You can go.” She decided not to push her luck any further and ran for the door. The man didn’t even try to stop her, and in seconds she was gone. She’d be home again to bathe soon, and then the next night she’d be back on the prowl, this time making sure to rob houses on an empty bladder. And, perhaps in a few days, she’d make a detour stop with a full one.
  9. any pokemon (definitely if anthrofied, maybe if not) i mean trainers are fine too but just not into that as much
  10. Wetting and desperation are nothing without each other. If there's desperation and it just leads to going to the bathroom like a normal person or the story ends, then it just feels like a cocktease and there was no payoff to the buildup, since the sensation of relief itself isn't all that important to me. On the other hand, wetting without some desperation is just meaningless, because there's no buildup to begin with. Casual wetting is better than going to the bathroom like a normal person, sure, but not by much, and it doesn't hold a candle to desperation followed by wetting.
  11. damn this is great, I love bugs now I want to request a follow up to see a drone (or some, or all) of them finally losing control in front of their queen especially the one who's definitely into it
  12. Ah, one or two weeks. Ha. Came to this series just a *bit* late, but it's quite enjoyable. Here's hoping some update happens sometime, eh?
  13. Coming in just a bit late, how about a redraw of that very first draw you did on the first request thread, with the Maractus?
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