As the latex spread over Farrell's body, yielding feminine curves and budding breasts, Orson turned his eyes disapprovingly to the large canine cock the toy that was recently his brother still spotted. "Why do they all come with these? Just seems a bit gay," he grumbled, giving the offending member a good yank and tossing it to the floor with the others. As with Cherri, the loss of his manhood rapidly sped Farrell down the road to femininity, body mind and soul, making it entirely to easy to forget what life was like as a male, or the family she'd been a part of. As Farrel tackled her to the bed to break her in, her body continued to be consumed by red latex and taking on an ideal sexual form, She did not, however, transform into a fox. While latex, she was still a coyote. Notably bigger than the other two living sex toys, and feeling a bit more right as a receptical for Orson's seed.
Orson himself kept changing as well, growing all the more feral as he pumped away. His posture hunched forward. His mouthiness gave way to a bunch of low growls, mixed with only the briefest of demands for his new toy to roll over, raise her ass higher, and quit whimpering. The thought of dressing himself again when this was over would never cross his mind, and he was increasingly seeing problems with the whole walking upright concept.
After another rotation through all three dolls, they were all bloated with his seemingly endless seed, panting and pawing at themselves as he briefly caught his breath. Should he keep going, he wondered, or maybe check in on... those things he normally did?