Cirque du Soul

"C'mon, please, it'll be fun!" Finn said, pulling Nik's arm. They were outside a hamlet of tents. Above the traveling carnival's front gate, a bright purple and white neon sign read Cirque du Soul. 

"What? No," Nik replied, walking away. "That's kid-level shit." 

"Nik, please?" Finn pouted, looking cute and genuinely crestfallen. "We said we would try to compromise, and tonight...." 

Nik sighed. "Tch, OK. I'm sorry." He kissed Finn's forehead and rubbed his copper scruff. "I know it's your turn to pick for date night. I'll try to have fun." 

"Really!? Let's go!" Finn pulled his boyfriend hard and energetically like an excited boy, forgetting he was a massive wall of a man. 

"Hey, watch it! I'm coming, don't tear me arm off!" Nik said, laughing. 

They started the rounds with a couple games: Test-Ur-Strength, wherein Finn smashed a mallet on a scale and won a sack of cotton candy the size of his torso; Bullseye!!, in which Nik threw small tennis balls at moving disks and won the top prize, a giant Roarlithe Pocketpal plushie. He gave the large, fiery red dog toy to Finn, who blushed and smiled. 

They watched a magic show, the tricks of which were mostly easy to figure out – at least for Nik, who caught glimpses of the false shuffles, artificial doves, and hidden wires. By contrast, Finn wowed at every single, sloppy sleight of hand, but Nik played along to keep him entertained and delighted. 

After the show, Finn walked along the winding path among the tents, holding the plushie in front of him. "Hey! Let's ride some rides! What about the Ferris wheel!?" His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. 

"What about that? They won't let us take it on," Nik said, pointing at the Roarlithe knockoff. 

"... OK, I'll run real quick and go put Roary Gilmore––" 

"What?" 

"Yeah, his name's Roary Gilmore! Lemme go put him in the car! I'll come find you." 

"I'll go with you," Nik said. 

"No no! You might change your mind and leave if we get to the car," Finn laughed. "Play a game or something; I'll come find you." 

"Hey, Finn, how––?" But Finn already was gone from earshot. "How will you find me," Nik muttered. He looked around the purple–and–white striped tents. "It's like a goddamn maze," he said to himself. 

Nik walked past some more games, mostly rigged, then turned down a narrow path between two tents. Few people were around, just a few hired hands and travelers with hammers and ropes for the tents. Nik thought one eyed him, but the man was gone before he could be sure. 

"I know a dog when I smell one," cackled a low voice. 

"Who're you calling a dog?" Nik said, turning on his heels to face an old, wrinkled woman with dark eyes and black hair. She stood behind a booth with a small table in front of her with a deck of tarot cards, a glass orb, and a list of prices for various soothsaying services. He stepped up to her booth, trying to intimidate her, secretly afraid that she knew his werewolf secret. 

"What a pretty puppy," she said with a condescending smile. "And so strong, too – at least outside the circus." 

"Is that a threat?" 

"Not from me," she laughed. "Pretty puppy had better find his owner, and fast," she said, winking. She cackled a small laugh as he turned away with a grunt. "Not that way!" she called, as Nik had headed deeper into the narrow, quiet lane. 

"Why not?" 

Her eyes seemed to grow darker in the heavy pause. "It's a game the little mongrel won't win." 

"I can handle a game, or whatever. This is a lame scare tactic, but I guess that's the whole point, right? Advertise with some cheap scares?" 

The crone shrugged and shuffled her cards. "Poor puppy. He's going to pay to play, oh yes...." She flipped a card, looked at it, and put it back in the deck. "But maybe he won't miss what he loses." 

Nik growled low and walked onwards, against her reprimand. He was glad to leave; being near her made the copious hair on his forearms stand on end. The path opened upon a small clearing, with the backs of identical tents, all striped in that same purple-white, hedging it in – except for one open portal. The flap of a tent at the far end was drawn aside, and it was dark within. No lamplight or firelight glowed inside as for other tents’ shows and games, and Nik realized that as he approached the opening, everything was quieter. It was as if the music and voices of the carnival had been dropped 90% in volume, so he could hear his own breathing.

He smelled something sweet blowing on a gentle breeze, wafting from the blackness. He sniffed at the scent: sweet, musky, slightly bitter – and it made his mouth water. He reached the dark entryway and read the wooden sign staked into the ground beside it: "House of Mirrors (Single Admission Only).” 

There was nowhere else to go but in, or back, and Nik did not want to face the taunting voice of that card-reader and give her the satisfaction of feeling she’d spooked him. His hair was again standing on edge, but that scent made his mouth water even more. He stooped and walked through the open tent flap. With a soft rustle, it closed behind him. 

For a second everything was blind-black. Then, the carnival music began – rather, a new version started to play: still lilting and merry, but slower and with a bassline beneath the instruments, thumping at the rate of a slow, good, long fuck. Pale lights glowed purple, white, and black, making shadows even as they gave him some sight. Under the pumping music and the surreal lighting, Nik felt as if he were in a circus-themed club. 

For a moment, Nik saw muscular men all around him and thought that's exactly where he was, and wanted to go get Finn for an impromptu party hidden in the center of the circus; then, he realized the crowd of men were all him: thirty or more reflections of Nik, from every angle as mirrors bounced his image back and forth endlessly. 

Nik walked slowly through the forest of mirrors, becoming disoriented, wondering if the mirrors were actually moving to keep him trapped. All the while he smelled that unnatural but addicting scent, and his blood pulsed with the strange tune's hypnotic beat. He felt like he’d had downed two scoops of preworkout and a few Biagra tablets.

He lost track of time and pulled out his phone: no service. "Screw this," he huffed, then turned to go back the route he'd come – and saw there were glass panes cutting off the path back. "The hell...?" he said, staring at his reflection. Whereas he had walked into the large tent wearing jeans and a lumberjack's plaid shirt, he saw himself shirtless; his thick black body fur showed itself over his strapping muscles: forearms, shoulders, heavy pecs, obliques, and six pack all exposed. His nipples were hard, and his jeans' top button was teasingly undone. It was as if the world's best and thirstiest pickpocket had snatched off his clothes in the gloomy maze. 

Nik sniffed, then lifted his arm to smell his furry pit: pheromones. His animal nature was intensely turned on despite his frustration and distraction. He sniffed again; it smelled good, and made his cock twitch. 

He dropped his arm and, if he had been a less stolid man, would have gasped. He was now encircled by a ring of mirrors, with a pile of cushions in the middle. When he pivoted to look all around, he saw that there was one single, slim opening in the mirrors, and out of it slithered two women. 

Nik sniffed again: not women, not human. He grit his teeth and tightened his big hands into fists as they approached. 

They sauntered towards him in tight leather shorts encasing thick hips, narrow midriffs, and little triangles of silk bikini over their large nipples. These little sheets of fabric were held in place by straps that were too thin and tight for the breasts pressing against them. Immaculate, smooth breasts pushed out and bounced around the strings that threatened to pop any second. Their heads were encased in black, tight gimp masks with holes only for the mouths: large, puffy red lips the color and gloss of a cerise corvette. 

"What? Welcoming committee or something?" Nik said, trying to sound gruff, while struggling with his confusion and bi urges simultaneously. 

The two faux-humans didn't speak. They simply made cooing, moaning sounds – ooo, mmm, ahhh, unnnhh – and loudly kissed the air towards Nik, all while strutting closer, sultry and almost drunkenly, with smooth but unnerving motions. Hypnotic, in sync with the beat of the music and Nik's pulsing cock. 

Nik watched their heavy hips, tight in their leather mini-shorts, swaying as they neared him. He watched, mesmerized, as their hands cupped their breasts, played with the silk strings to show the soft, oversized tits' soft lusciousness. Their kissing mouths parted so drenched tongues could loll out and lick their inhumanly large lips, large as lemons. Then, without Nik's realizing it, they were on him. 

“Ahhh~~" and "Mmmm~~" they purred, putting their hands on Nik and gently pressing him back, down onto the cushions like a young sultan reclining in a pleasure tent. Their hands slowly, smoothly roved his furry muscles, feeling his chest, lats, and his throat. 

Finn, he thought. Whatever was happening with the music, the aroma, the pulse in his blood, Nik knew it wasn't good. For a moment his wary nature brought him up from the mental haze growing the longer he stayed in the tent. He was on the verge of standing up – his muscles tensed to press off the velvet cushions – when one of those red-nailed hands unzipped his jeans. His cock sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, and his black briefs were stretched tight and wet over his glans. Precum had, without his having realized it, been oozing out in his primal heat along with his pheromones. The seductresses lapped at the air, their long, curling tongues almost drinking in his scent, drooling for his fresh juices. 

That's how they found me with those masks on! he realized. My musk…

Even though he could smell they weren't human, Nik couldn't bring himself to actually attack them. He prepared to kick of his jeans, to run in his briefs and hunt for the exit in his sopping wet underwear if need be, but his aroused body delayed a few short seconds – which was all the opportunity the seductresses needed to rip off his briefs with a synchronized, quick jerk from either side. His cock jumped up like a cedar tree oozing sap, at the tight of which those seductresses popped the strings of their scanty bikinis.

Their large tits bounced rhythmically, and Nik was fascinated by them. He struggled, telling himself to move, now, but his swollen nuts were thinking about sex, not danger. His body was primed for lust; he'd been saving his load for Finn all week. 

"Finn!" Nik shouted, as if suddenly remembering, as if waking up from a dream. 

In the next instant, his pole was embraced by those two pairs of melons. They pressed hard into one another, burying his cock alive in warm flesh – much warmer than a normal human should be, at least 40°C. 

Nik tilted his head back and groaned as their hands squeezed their soft flesh, pressing a silky, warm oil from their areolas. Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, he watched as they slowly massaged it all over his rod, grinding and swirling over his manhood. Nik couldn't see a centimeter of his cock, but he could feel the substance being smeared over his shaft, his glans, and even his nuts until his whole manhood was bathed in it. All the while, the twin seductresses kept moaning and cooing wordlessly: “Mmmm, ahhh, nnnnahhh!" "Oooo, mmmm, ohhhh!" 

Nik's cock throbbed hard under their tit-massage, soaking up that warm fluid like a sponge until his veins pressed back firmly against their nipples. He could feel the wet tips of those wide nips rubbing his network of rigid veins, and each motion was pure pleasure. Nik added his own guttural growl to their moans, joining them in sounds of ecstasy as the heat in his imbued cock spread to his balls, up into his muscles. "Grrrrahhh!" he heaved bestially, tilting his head up to the dark, unseen ceiling of the tent. 

Fuck, he thought, this isn't right. I need to focus. It's just too good, I need to get out and find F––!! Nik panted as they sped up their tit-fucking, scrubbing his immediate thoughts away via pleasure. In a few moments he knew he'd cross over the point where holding in his cum would be impossible. He struggled to keep back from the ledge, dreading – though he couldn't explain why – the end of that titjob, of giving in and giving up his cum. cum

"No, no no, I have to find... ahh, unh ... I have to find Finn! No, I won't let you take ... ahh, ahh—!!” Nik grit his teeth, straining all his muscles, trying to forcibly tighten off the reservoir of cum stewing in his body and balls. He felt like a rope was tied around his arms and legs, with a weight on the other end, hanging off a cliff, pulling him closer even as he used all his strength to pull in the other direction.

The temptresses' coos turned into wordless moans, egging him on, expressing their thirst for his orgasm. They squeezed more fluid onto him, a half liter of slimy lube, and the pleasure spiked through his brain's pleasure centers. 

"No, FUCK!!!" Nick's muscles loosened against his will, and his hips bucked up. He saw his glans for the first time in fifteen minutes or two hours (his sense of time was completely destroyed). It thrust out the top of the tit-sandwich, pulsing, spewing the ropes of cum he had been saving for his boyfriend. Expertly, his cocks' jailkeeper's controlled his gushing pole with their tits, making him shoot straight up so every bolt of thick, potent, virile spunk slapped onto their tits. 

They gave him no rest; they kept servicing Nik's cock, speeding up their gyrations, now jiggling their melons quickly to churn his cum into buttercream, mixing it with their own suspicious secretions. 

"Uhhh ... fuckkk ... the fuck are you ... ahhh, nnn ... doing to me..." he moaned, feeling warm lust replacing something that had gone out of him in those juicy ropes. He didn't know what it was he'd lost in his mind, or his soul, but he had little freedom to reflect on the matter. The heightened sense of suffocating lust, and the feel of those tits made thinking hard. His cock hadn't wilted at all; if anything, it was harder than when it first sprung from his jeans. 

"How's that feeling better than the first round?" he muttered.

They didn't reply, except to make a sound like moaning and laughter combined. They kept jostling their titties, faster. Nik watched them gyrate on his meat with countless micro-strokes. "Shit, shit, I keep forgetting Finn! Oh –– no, not again, I’m gonna... how... nnnNNHHAAA!!!" Nik roared and heard the heavy plops of his cum drenching the merciless tits and his own hairy abs. 

He gasped for air, trying to recover even as his cock was being worked without pause. Again, he felt something more than semen had seeped from him, something he cared about before, but was being replaced by thirsty, fiery lust. He looked at the thick globes of titmeat servicing his cock, and he grinned, dazed but proud of how his wolf loins had produced enough baby batter to completely coat them, like a drum of paint poured all over.
The temptresses moaned low and sensually, puckering their unnatural large lips and licking them, as if barely restraining themselves from gorging on his cock. 

Nik flopped back onto the cushions. The music had simplified to just a dull pump, like a sex dungeon. He put his hands behind his head, flexed for the hell of it, and smelled the scent of arousal in his pit. For some reason, this made him think of Finn. "Finn," he muttered. Time was completely frayed in Nik's mind, and who knew what Finn was thinking, or how worried or abandoned he felt. "... Just one more nut. He's a big pup; he’ll be fine.” 

Nik drew in a sharp breath, almost cumming at the onset of some new pleasure pulling Finn from his mind. He sat up and saw that the two temptresses where now raising their tits up and pushing them down in unison, up to his cock head and down low, pressed to his nuts, all the while secreting small amounts of that stimulating tit-venom. 

Nik watched fascinated, almost drooling, as his cock showed itself for a half second when they lowered themselves – low enough to press their lips to his glans. They kissed it with those thick, pillowy, moist lips, and each wet smooch somehow threatened to draw out another burst of his cum. 

Nik looked at the mirrors across from him, seeming to realize for the first time he was a stud. He flexed both arms, watching them and himself. He felt the urge to fuck for the sake of pure, carnal pleasure, to spew his loads as much as he could on whatever body or orifice came his way.

"You like that meat, eh?" he grinned at the sightless kissers. "You gonna try to make me explode again or not?" 

As if they heard, they slowed the pace of their titfuckery and began twining their four-inch tongues around Nik's cock head, coiling it like two snakes made out of silk and lube, writhing on his glans each time it popped up from the flesh chasm. 

"Unnh, yeah, fucking get it. Take it if you can make me –– make... me... grrrraahhhh!!!"
Nik erupted, and hungrily they lapped his cum, drinking what they could of his big load with those viper tongues, sucking his cock hard and still kissing, still stroking the unrelenting hard-on with their tits. 

A small voice in the back of his head tried to warn Nik, tried to guide him out and back to his boyfriend, but in two more geysers of Nik-cream, the voice was silenced. He couldn't remember what had been so important, or why he was there; all his body craved was nutting, and fucking, gushing as much cum as possible until there was nothing left to empty from his balls. 

Nik began bucking his hips, and in a deft motion stood up and buried his cock in the saturated tits of one seductress. She ... or rather, It, but Nik no longer cared what he was fucking as ling as as it felt good ... was clasping its tits together while he fucked them with abandon, plunging his cock up through the top for a warm, wet kiss before pulling it back into those intoxicating, hot depths. 

The sound of his balls slapping on flesh was loud, as were his grunts and growls. His mind continued to melt; everything became primal, now that he no longer resisted cumming. He tossed his head back and came, another thick load. If he had any unclouded thoughts left, he would have felt the weakness growing in his body despite the physique he saw in the mirrors – from the liters of cum coaxed from his body, smeared all over his pleasurable captors and his own pumped muscles.

After creaming the breast, lips, and mask of the first creature, the other knelt and pressed close for a turn, and Nik gave no resistance. He was full of lust, and needed to cum, cum, cum cum. His body was slicked with sweat, which shone in those sensual, lurid lights. Slap slap slap slap went his balls, amid the moans, the coos, his groans, and the smattering splash of cum every few minutes. 

––– 

Finn was torn between feeling sad and worried. He still held Roarlithe; Nik had the keys in his jeans' pocket. The circus was almost empty, and it was quiet. He saw a guard ushering out a small group of tourists, and so he walked the other way, wondering if Nik had gotten lost too and they were both circling around each other for the last several hours. 

He found an old woman sleepily putting away some cards and a crystal ball on the counter of her little tent. "Excuse me! Have you seen my boyfriend? He's this tall, black hair, and and just ... a ton of fur and muscles. He's, uh, wearing a black plaid shirt, with a wool collar!” 

The woman eyed him, almost pityingly. "You mean this plaid shirt?" she said, pulling up Nik's clothing. She handed it to Finn, who smelled his scent on it. 

Finn pressed his nose in close to the fabric; he knew it was definitely Nik’s, and it smelled like he was ... horny. Really horny, like that time they stumbled on that orgy in Henry's apartment. 

"Where is he?" 

"I'm sorry, cutie. Best go on home for the evening; your beau found something else irresistible to do tonight." 

“But it’s date night! Is he with ... someone else?" 

"There's nothing you can do; you can't get where he is now. Just go home, try to sleep. There's a chance he will remember you later. Just a chance." 

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes when men drown in pleasure, it’s hard to even want anything else again.”

––– 

Seven identical seductresses were upon Nik now, pressing their engorged tits on his mug, tonguing his muscles, assaulting his purpling rod and overworked balls with their sumptuous flesh. Sheet upon sheet of spunk covered their ruthless breasts, until the dark nipples couldn't be seen unless his cock wiped them clear. His extracted cum matted his fur, kept wet by his sweat. His white cream shone purple-black; liters and liters of his seed lay spewed and wasted.

Nik moaned and lay the floor. His huge muscles were exhausted, almost all the strength milked from his traitorous cock. Still, he didn't care; he sucked on the tit pressed to his handsome face, drinking the juice and feeling it empower him to give up more cum. It energized his muscles, and made his nuts feel full, churning cum from something inside him that he didn’t care – for the moment – to lose.

Laced with liquid lust, he stood up again, feverish with the compulsion to climax endlessly, while the Drinkers fed their insatiable thirst for his affection and his soul, for what was left of the night.