Cold, hard tile floor pressing unforgivingly up against his lower back was never the most enjoyable part of these sessions, and yet still Raul endured it for the sake of the result. The coyote bit his lip as he lifted himself up again, the towel folded into a makeshift pad underneath himself helping at least a little bit; he reached forward with a paw, cursed underneath his breath, tried to wipe the slimy smears of lube and saliva off onto his fur, and then tapped at the screen of his phone to refocus it in place. Sure, this whole thing would be far easier with a mirror, but he hadn’t actually gone out of his way to get one suitable for his purposes yet. There were still other things occupying his focus.

And, of course, one of those things was the smooth, soft silicone of the stretching plug wedged in underneath his tail – backwards. Such a strange sensation opposed to the way it felt when lodged in its intended orientation, which he had worn out to the grocery store, on a two hour road trip to visit a friend-with-benefits out of state, on a four-hour flight once; with the wide, egg-shaped toy buried inside of him to the flared base sometimes he could almost forget it was there, save for the enticing, indulgent situations when he squirmed in his seat and halfway lifted a leg just to feel it there, or when he squeezed his paws down on the armrests of whatever chair he was sitting in and pushed, pushed, pushed as hard as he could in the knowledge that his pants would keep the thing in.

Sometimes it didn’t, though, and then he’d have to struggle first with the moist heat of something that had just been buried inside his bowels for who knows how long resting in the seat of his pants, and then take on the task of angling it back into place so he could sink his weight down onto it… and feel it stretch the rim of his tailhole around its girth, opening wide and then slurping back down, locking into place inside of him, pressing against all of those inner buttons that always left his sheath slick and slimy with forced pre.

But backwards? The coyote didn’t even have to hold his paws against his rump to spread himself in his phone’s small screen, turned to the selfie camera so he could actually see. The shape of the toy, in particular its rounded point at the tip, naturally tried – and succeeded – at smoothly prying open his ring of muscle, so that the tan-tinted pink wrinkles of flesh slid easily apart around it. Its weight and presence inside of him, almost as wide around as his clenched fist at its thickest point, teased those lower twists of his bowels into reflexively wanting to eject it out of him, so that instead of being able to relax and hold it there Raul had to repeatedly clench and squeeze, again and again.

He bit his lip and watched himself go through the paces, puckered ring sucking in towards its center and then just as quickly beginning to flare out again, pulling back around the vivid blue silicone as it tried to work its way out. Muscles tensed and trembled, pulling it back in, holding it there, then relaxing just enough so that it teased out, then back in, then out again. Raul tilted his head back, took in a breath, swallowed, adjusted where he lay on the uncomfortable floor, and then finally let his muscles loosen into easy relaxation. The thing pushed it way out of him, quickly at first and then slower when it came to its widest point, folding his tailhole back over itself with wrinkles smoothing out and then redoubling – and then it quickened again with the reverse, pushing out with a liquid squelch until his stretched tailhole caught at the flared base.

Once there he swung his head forward again and turned himself so he could see the result in the camera. Sleek, puckered rim stretched open and holding easily there, gaping with no extra effort put in, and then the thick, wide base of the toy caught inside… the coyote licked his lips, flicked his ears, and pushed again, trying to squeeze it out by force alone. He pushed further, and harder, and harder, yet could see already that the rim of muscles had stretched out past the boundaries of the base, and the fleshy walls of his lower bowels simply bunched up around and against it rather than pushing it out. He felt his chest tighten and the pressure rise in his head, pulse thumping, sheath twitching… and then, rather anticlimactically, the toy unstuck itself from inside of him and rolled out, a thick strand of slightly discolored lube and natural juices clinging to the side.

Almost as soon as it was out of him he ignored it, though. Raul rolled it aside with a footpaw and then scooted his bared rump closer to the camera, paws coming in again, fingers splaying out amid the cinnamon fur of his rear dampened to a slightly darker tone from the wetness. Even without pushing, even just lying there relaxed, his tailhole remained parted open at least an inch across, smooth shadow giving way to the rich, glistening red folds of inner meat.

So the coyote took in another breath, swallowed, and then pushed again, slowly and gently at first. Those folds swelled up and slid closer to his rim, itself puckering up and blossoming out like a pair of lips, pink exterior folding out to show the glossy purple inner rim, then pulling out further. Raul squirmed again, lifted his legs up further, and now ran a pair of fingers down across his gaping tailhole, smooth pads tracing across the silken folds of interior flesh that had started to roil out towards the surface; he pushed and poked and prodded, feeling the way his own lower guts shifted and melded around the touch, soft, squishy, nearly liquid in consistency and texture.

Anticipation flared inside of him. One at a time Raul reached in and hooked his fingers behind the already-stretched ring of his tailhole, wiggling his paw back and forth to bury them deep: index finger, middle, ring finger of one paw, then the index of the other, middle, ring. He pressed them together, shivering at the slight discomfort from the friction and force, then curled them around, felt the walls of his bowels balloon out at the interior stretch, lifted his legs higher, buried them deeper, and then he pulled each paw apart – and pushed.

For a moment there came the familiar sensation of that lowermost inch of meat swelling up and squeezing out across his buried fingers, but then it just kept on going. Raul craned his head up to watch the progress in his phone camera, folds of wet inner flesh snaking out of his gaping tailhole, extruding from inside like pushing his paw into a sock to unfold it from itself.

So much effort and practice put into this, from the first weeks where he got little more than just a half-inch rosebud smooching out from within; then repeated sessions aimed at pushing his limits, reaching in with three fingers, four, five, pinching at his inner folds, manually drawing them out of himself while still pushing. The coyote pressed through the sensation of unsatisfied relief, his bowels trying to dump out their contents but instead just pushing themselves out, as that half-inch grew into a full inch, then one and a half, and then two. In many of the videos he’d seen of others with more impressive progress, theirs tended to pitch and curl down towards their tail, rooted in place by some muscle or tendon or another – he hadn’t been as responsible with his reading as he should have been – while his so far poked up and to one side a bit.

Warm piss trickled down into the fur of his belly, squeezed out from the sheer force of such an intense push. Raul released the tension and with it a deep swell of breath, head swimming for a moment and heart pounding in his chest, throat, skull, and ears, then gradually slid his fingers out from inside his tailhole. His rim still stretched open, though now he could feel it trying to squeeze in against his own insides now hanging out of him, a few inches of dense, wet wrinkled red, glistening with lube, saliva, and natural slimy mucus in the bathroom lights over him.

And what a sight it was. Satisfied, proud, the coyote held himself up for a moment just looking at himself and the first few inches of his bowels forced outside of his body, bouncing and jiggling with his pulse as well as his breathing. He reached down with a paw, traced his fingers over the roughly tube-shaped eversion, pressed and squeezed… like one of those gelatinous toys I’d get from the coin machines at the bowling alley as a pup, he thought, as the wrinkles squelched within his grip. Distantly he could feel the pressure and tug, nerves telling him it took place deep inside of him, eyes telling him quite the opposite. Water snakes. But we always called them a “poor man’s fleshlight”.

It still took him devoted focus and practice to get to where he could even push it out, but afterwards it was always so worth it. For practice sometimes he liked to keep it outside of him for as long as he could bear, feeling it jiggle and sway and twitch underneath him like a second tail; after satisfying himself in his other purposes during the sessions, he often lost the better part of an hour just fingering and tugging and pulling at the outermost end, working his guts out ever further, bit by bit.

After another moment his phone screen dimmed and then turned to black, but he made no move to turn the camera back on at this point. It had served its purpose, and besides: as the coyote sat up, squishing his own prolapse between his rump and the pad of towels underneath him, he could still see the mushy red flesh resting underneath his sack, fur similarly damp and matted with various juices. Still he panted gently, shaft halfway out of his sheath, knot already swollen beneath the supple skin. That tended to happen.

He sat up a little straighter, indulging in the slight discomfort of feeling his own bowels underneath him, and swept up both his phone in one paw as well as the relatively flat, round plate-like device nearby in the other. The coyote tapped in his passcode with one thumb on his phone, then on the other object turned it around, poked at the slim button on the side and held it, then looked over when it flickered to life. With some effort he sat up the rest of the way, with a strange twist of the muscles in his lower abdomen managed to get his bowels to suck right back up into him – which left him with that distinct feeling in his rim where he that were he to give the slightest push then something would come out of him, though here it would be quite a bit different from the usual – and turned around to sit against the cool wall of the bathtub now behind him.

Once there he swiped through his phone a little bit more, found his target, tapped the screen, and held it to his ear, every now and then glancing down at the surface of the disk-shaped device. Nothing about it had changed. Dial tone buzzed in his ear… then click.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

Raul’s tail swayed against the tub upon hearing Fuzzy’s voice. “Hey there. Been a bit busy today, but I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh, hey, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, doctors around the world would probably agree with you.” He lifted the device again. “Got your pocket portal nearby?”

The lupine across the line gave a low, growling chuckle. Raul imagined he could feel that warm breath tickling across his shoulder. “Of course I fucking do. Did you get me another blowjob?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Gonna use my sheath as yours again?”

“Not this time-”

“Heading out for the day and want to use me like a plug?”

“No – well, sort of-”

“Got a bottle you want me to fill? I was just on my way to take a piss-”

“Fuzz. Hey.” Still holding the device in his other paw, Raul now circled a finger slowly around within the lip of his sheath, suitably slick enough to allow it. “Turn your fuckin’ thing on. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. One sec…”

While waiting Raul peered at it once more, ensured he had the correct side, and then lowered himself down a little further so that he could press it up between his legs, right against his tailhole. Cool metal sucked into place there, smooth and firm… and then with a quiet whirr the device shivered into life, the strange portal cracking open so that once more cool air breathed across his rim instead.

“Okay. It’s – oh. I see,” Fuzzy said, his voice now coming from both the phone as well as between Raul’s legs, soon followed by the inimitable sensation of lips pursed against his tailhole in a kiss. “Now that’s a hell of a sight.”

“Yeah,” Raul purred, and curled his toes. He took in a breath, swallowed… “Just… watch this…” …and then started to push again. Where his brain expected the same sensation as pushing that plug out into the seat of his pants, sensation folding out into a firm surface, the presence of the portal instead let him keep on going, unfolding his insides from his own house to Fuzzy’s. A smooth, steady push, then a pause to catch his breath, then another push with more piss trickling out across his belly, and-

“Oh, baby…” Fuzzy rumbled in his ear. Raul jumped as the wolf’s fingers grazed across the underside of this “second tail” of his, gently hefting the mushed meat freshly wet again with his internal humidity. “All for me?”

The coyote shifted and pinned his phone between his cheek and his shoulder so he could give himself a spread with that paw, the other still holding the device against himself. At this point, though, the very presence of his distended bowels held it in place. He bit into his lip and pushed a little further, shaft shivering within his sheath and lower belly flattening out as it dumped several inches of its normal contents into the open air and Fuzzy’s waiting paws several miles away, thumbs softly running back and forth over the tapered end of his tubing, squishing and squeezing and tugging. There was that strange vacuum sensation again, the tug on his outside-insides, and once more he relaxed… with those few inches of wet meat remaining out of him, through the portal.

“All for you. In fact I was wondering if you could, y’know…” Raul cast around the bathroom for where he had tossed his clothing. Often in the heat of the moment he just kicked his things off and let them lie wherever they landed. Over there in the corner was his pants, and then hanging halfway off the counter was his underwear… another pinch and tug. Raul shivered, briefly having to grasp onto the bathroom counter, and then managed to work first one leg and then the other into his boxers and pants.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know. I mean, it’s basically…” He paused in wiggling everything back up his legs, then made the small feat of acrobatics to slip his paw out from underneath his tail while yanking everything into place at the same time, and effectively sealed the mouth of the portal there against himself. He felt it shift a little bit, then sighed with relief when it locked into place. “I mean. Basically a fleshlight, right?”

“Is it, now?” Fuzzy chuckled again – and Raul gasped at the sensation of the wolf’s paw squeezing around the root of his bowels where they protruded from his body, fur and pads slurping over the supple, silken wet flesh. Raul felt a distant shift, again swirling through the disorientation of feeling it both right here inside the seat of his pants while knowing it actually happened miles away at Fuzzy’s place – and then a soft, sweet touch, a little bit of wetness, and an invigorating wet warmth closing around the protruding end of his revealed bowels, slurping down along him towards his rump, squeezing gently as it went. Through the receiver came the quiet smack and squelch of Fuzzy’s mouth closing around his prolapse and diving further, tongue wriggling its way into the wrinkled folds.

The wolf held him there, each and every one of those inches now drawn into his muzzle. Raul felt the little puffs of breath, the pressure of his lips and the roof of his mouth, and then of course the way his tongue slurped and slopped inside yet outside of him, coating those walls again in saliva; he sucked away at him, drawing him steadily further out of his own body and into his mouth, while the coyote shivered and trembled in pulling his shirt back down over his head, tail kept reflexively hiked, front of his pants tight with his stirring arousal. He shifted his phone back into his paw and let an unintentional sigh out into it.

After another moment Fuzzy drew back with another gentle squelch, suckling along the protruding flesh as he went. Raul felt as though he had pulled another half-inch out of him with that. “It’s good to prep a toy before use,” he said from the other side of the line – followed by a grunt and a distant zip.

“Oh, come on. I know how you kept that one for a month without cleaning it out.”

“Yeah.” Now there was a different warmth against the also-distant end of his insides, certainly not his tailhole – he could clench that and feel it strain around his guts – and an added pressure as Fuzzy pushed up against him. Raul’s paw lingered at the bathroom light switch; he closed his eyes, bit his lip, sighed… and didn’t have to imagine the wolf nestling his sheath up against the wrinkled, sloppy lips of his bowels, as this was actually happening. “How long are you willing to stay like this? Because, fuck, you know I’d love to do the same to this.”

“Well, that might get… a bit inconvenient at times, and – ah, careful, pinch-”

“Sorry. I’ll just…” Another strange sensation, the loose lips flopping back and forth, around and around the lupine’s tapered tip. Smearing himself against Raul’s unfolded bowels like lipstick, slickening himself in both his own saliva as well as the dripping mucus from within, if that was the correct term, the coyote’s rump. “Better?”

His footsteps through the bedroom faltered every now and again. “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“I might have to, uh…” Then more pressure, fingers wrapping one by one around those inches, squeezing them in place, and Fuzzy grinding his sheath up against him, coaxing his hard shaft out into the wet meat. “Hold you. Like, in place.”

“Oh, so like usual when I do this when-” Another stumble, and he caught himself against the wall. “When you come over.”

“Yeah. Do you mind-?”

“Keep going. Keep on…”

Raul trailed off, eyes fluttering shut where he stood now in the hallway leaning against the wall. When he had finally first managed some length back there, he had called Fuzzy over to take advantage of it – and ended up on all fours above the wolf with his tail raised while the other male stroking his prolapsed guts back and forth across his cock, using his loose bowels as a sleeve squeezed within his paw. This felt exactly the same as that, Fuzzy holding him in place while he worked himself to his full arousal – which really didn’t take long – and then likely pressing down on the back of his end of the device, pushing the mouth of the portal further along his length… until Raul could feel his familiar girth lifting up into him, squishing that meat up against his stretched tailhole, pushing up inside of him past the already-gaped rim.

Nearly no resistance met him on the way in, as he was technically already inside him. With some effort the coyote lifted himself away from the wall and headed over to tackle the stairs, one paw firmly gripping the rail as he went. Through the phone issued Fuzzy’s small grunts and steady panting as he worked himself in deeper, every now and then with a thick, wet slurp or smack making its way through as well. Raul felt the extra pressure of his shaft inside of him, his girth normally enough to make him have to pause to let himself grow accustomed to it, but now after so much preparation and practice with his tailhole held constantly open around his own innards, Fuzzy could instead just sink right on in, press all the way up so that he even felt the end of his sheath curl inside of his guts, and then tug out again – or, rather, lift the other end of the portal off of himself.

“Want me to-” The wolf let out a shaky sigh. “-stay on the line while I-”

“Yes,” Raul answered, without a second thought. He braced himself against the rail again. “God, yes. I wanna hear you cum.”

“Well, that’s already – not that far away…”

Even with the strange physics of the portal system he felt his lower body lurch forward and back with the movement with Fuzzy steadily increasing his pace. He imagined how it would look, were he there to watch: the lupine leaning back in his chair with his pants opened just enough to let his hefty sack and plump sheath hang out, clutching the flat disk of the portal device in the palm of his paw, shoving it down to the base of his sheath so that it subsumed his entire length, again and again.

Raul pursed his lips, still reflexively keeping his tail raised and rump angled out where he stood, even though the only thing behind him was the wall at the other side of the stairs. He rested his wait across the railing, measured his breathing with the pace of the wolf’s cock slurping deep into him, his full ten inches (including the knot and root, Raul thought it important to note) only actually inside of his body about seven of that. Sensation and delight thrummed through him with each push, the force and girth as Fuzzy came closer and closer to his peak steadily squishing his guts back up inside of him; he swallowed again, bore down, and pushed back out against the entry, fully aware that in doing so he had started to leak into the front of his pants, and at the same time far from caring.

Across the line Fuzzy sucked in a gasp and shuddered. “Oh, fuck, Raul, keep on – doing that, I’m…”

So he did. He wrenched every muscle in his body together and straightened up, damp warmth heating his own swollen sheath, tail hiked, loins trembling with the force. Each time Fuzzy pushed his bowels an inch or two back up inside of him, he squeezed and pushed so that they sleeved right back out around his cock so many miles away, in a different room in a different house. The sounds came from two sources, right here underneath his tail and then echoing through the phone still pressed to his ear: thick, wet, sloppy squelches and slurps, like someone trying desperately to suck the pudding out of the single-serve plastic cups he kept in the pantry. He swallowed yet again, tried to clench, felt the stretched muscles for a moment incapable of responding, then felt his guts start to suck in around Fuzzy’s shaft again-

-just as the wolf forced his end of the portal down as far as he could, forcing his half-swollen knot up and into Raul’s lower guts and then pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, thick ropes of rich, sticky seed jetting out inside, painting his inner walls, quickly squirting back out and around his still-opened rear. As soon as it started Raul felt the damp heat of the leakage in the seat of his pants, trickling out and down along his side of the device; Fuzzy panted and moaned in his ear, voice turning from the deep, feral growls of base desire back into slightly more measured noises of relief.

Raul hadn’t even made it fully down the stairs. He straightened up a bit, licked his lips, shifted the phone to his other ear, “All good?” and then – gasped and shuddered as Fuzzy slipped right back out of him as easily as he had plunged in, fully swollen knot tugging those few inches of the coyote’s bowels right back out of him as he went. That vacuum sensation again, a shivering tug and stretch – and then an unstoppable feeling of oozing out, though the mess leaked through the other side of the portal.

Fuzzy couldn’t speak for a moment. “Better than… good,” he managed, and breathed a low chuckle. Raul jumped; he felt the wolf smack his still-hard shaft against him, warm and wet. “So how about it? How long can you…?”

Gingerly Raul took another step down, then another, and finally reached the ground floor. “At least the rest of the night?” he answered. “It doesn’t take really any effort to, y’know – keep it out, but I might have to… push every now and then…”

“Oh, no. Poor me.”

“And you’ll have to keep it hydrated, of course-”

Then warm, wet suction again, and obviously very deliberate slurping as Fuzzy once more drew the loose flesh between his lips and suckled at it, drinking out his own load where he had dumped it there. Raul pitched to the side and barely caught himself against the wall again.

“That won’t be a problem, either,” the wolf said, after another noisy slurp. “And besides, like I said. I was just on my way to take a piss…”