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ID
149413
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bda3662fa2e7bcb01bd32a04213d7559
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1856x1280 (2.88 MB)
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Rating
Explicit
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director ton, fenneko, haida, retsuko, and tsunoda (aggretsuko and etc) directed by gridanon
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Description

No wonder Haida can't get a date!

Remaking some of my old gens that got uploaded here with "unknown director" using more modern models like NovelAI's v4.5 models. This is a remake of post #113213 and post #119637.

Alt: https://files.catbox.moe/evrgsz.png

Tech Talk

I used NovelAI's unlimited gen membership for $25 a month. Note that "unlimited" is kind of a lie, it's only unlimited if you're under a certain resolution and only if you're not using any of the advanced features. Upscaling and other features cost the on-site currency, which the membership gets you 10000 a month. That should be more than enough for a month, but you can burn through it quickly since NAI gens so quickly.

AI Story - Don't Let HR Know

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department buzzed faintly overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of desks cluttered with spreadsheets, coffee-stained mugs, and the faint scent of toner from the ancient printer in the corner. It was well past closing time, the office mostly empty except for the small group that had lingered for what was supposed to be a quick after-hours project review.

Retsuko stood frozen in front of Haida's desk, her small red panda paws clutching a stack of files to her chest like a shield. Her cheeks burned beneath the soft rust of her fur, pupils dilated wide enough to swallow the black of her irises. She couldn't look away.

Haida—tall, lanky, perpetually anxious Haida—had just stood up from his chair after she’d innocently asked why he kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat all day. His spotted hyena ears were pinned back flat against his skull, tail tucked between his legs, and the front of his slacks... gods, the front of his slacks looked like someone had tried to smuggle a fire extinguisher down the left leg.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws scraping nervously against short fur.

“I… uh… I didn’t want anyone to notice,” he muttered, voice cracking on the last syllable. “But… yeah. It’s… it’s not padding or anything. It’s just… me.”

He hooked two fingers into the waistband of his trousers and, with a reluctant sigh that sounded like a man walking to his own execution, tugged downward just enough.

The thick, heavy outline of his cock sprang free of restraint, the fabric no longer able to contain it. The shaft was monstrous—easily thicker than Retsuko’s wrist, veined prominently, the skin a deep flushed pink beneath the hyena’s darker spotted fur. It curved upward with insistent rigidity, the flared head glistening with a bead of clear pre that had already soaked through the thin cotton of his underwear. Below it hung a pair of balls so swollen and full they looked painful, each one larger than a ripe mango, straining the seams of his briefs and swaying gently with every shallow breath he took.

The musky, potent scent hit the room like a physical wave—thick, animal, unmistakably aroused male. It curled into nostrils, heavy and primal, making the air feel thicker.

Retsuko’s knees buckled slightly. The files slipped from her paws and scattered across the carpet with soft thumps.

“W-w-wow… Haida… you’re… you’re…” Her voice came out high and trembling, words tangling on her tongue as heat pooled low in her belly, molten and insistent. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, tail fluffing out behind her in a nervous, aroused puff. “You’re s-so… it’s… it’s…”

Haida’s ears flattened further. He looked down at himself, then at her stunned face, and something in his expression crumpled with familiar self-conscious worry.

“…Too big?” he finished for her, voice small and almost apologetic. “I know. I know it’s ridiculous. I’ve… I’ve always been like this. Girls usually… they see it and they just… leave. Or laugh. Or both.” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of freak, Retsuko. I just—”

He didn’t get to finish.

A sharp, barking laugh erupted from the doorway.

Fenneko leaned against the frame, tiny fennec paws covering her muzzle, shoulders shaking so hard her oversized ears flopped back and forth. Tears of mirth sparkled in the corners of her eyes.

“HAH! HAH! HAH! Oh my god—Haida! You’ve been hiding a goddamn baseball bat in your pants this whole time?!” She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “I thought you just had a really aggressive boner from thinking about Retsuko again! This is… this is legendary!”

Across the room, Tsunoda had her phone out already, the camera flash popping like paparazzi lightning. The gazelle’s tongue poked out between her teeth in concentration, eyes wide and glittering with something between awe and shameless lust.

“Hold still, Haida-kun~! Just a few more angles—oh wow, look at the veins! And those balls! They’re so… full! Are they always that heavy? Do they hurt when you walk? This is content gold!”

Click-click-click. She crouched for a low angle, tail swishing excitedly behind her. The scent of her own arousal was starting to mingle with Haida’s musk—sweet, floral perfume undercut by something wetter, needier.

Haida’s face went from mortified red to nuclear crimson.

“Tsunoda—please—delete those—!”

“Too late~” she sang, already scrolling through the gallery with a dreamy sigh. “You’re trending in my private folder now.”

In the corner by the coffee machine, Director Ton stood rooted to the spot. His thick pig jowls hung slack. The half-eaten donut in his paw had fallen to the floor sometime during the reveal, forgotten. His small, piggy eyes were glassy, pupils tiny pinpricks. Slowly, mechanically, he looked down at his own crotch—where, even at full attention, he had never come close to this obscene display—then back up at Haida.

His snout wrinkled.

“Not… fair…” he wheezed, voice cracking like old leather. A single fat tear rolled down the coarse bristles of his cheek. “Thirty-two years… climbing the corporate ladder… working overtime… and this skinny punk hyena walks in with… with that?!”

He clutched at his chest like a man having a heart attack, slumping back against the filing cabinet. The metal rattled mournfully.

Retsuko, meanwhile, had taken one shaky step forward. Then another. Her breathing came in shallow pants, pupils blown so wide the gold of her irises was only a thin ring.

“It’s… not too big,” she whispered, almost to herself. Her paw lifted—hesitated—then slowly, reverently, reached out.

The very tips of her fingers brushed the underside of Haida’s shaft.

He sucked in a harsh breath, hips jerking forward involuntarily. The motion sent his cock bobbing heavily, another thick rope of pre drooling from the slit and dripping onto the carpet between them with a soft pat.

Retsuko’s paw wrapped around the base—or tried to. Her small fingers couldn’t even meet around the girth. The heat of him seared her palm, velvet skin over steel, pulsing in time with his racing heart.

“It’s… perfect,” she breathed, voice trembling with something dangerously close to worship. “It’s so… so warm… so heavy…”

Haida’s claws dug into the edge of his desk, knuckles white. “R-Retsuko… you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, softer than she’d ever spoken to him. Her other paw joined the first, stroking upward in a slow, exploratory glide. When her thumbs brushed over the sensitive ridge beneath the head, Haida’s knees nearly buckled.

“F-fuck—” he choked out, head falling back.

Fenneko cackled again, phone now recording video. “This is going in the group chat. No one is gonna believe—”

“Fenneko!” Tsunoda hissed, though she didn’t stop filming either. “Let them have their moment! This is romantic!”

Ton let out another pitiful sob from the corner.

Retsuko didn’t hear any of them.

She sank to her knees without conscious thought, nose inches from the dripping head. The scent was overwhelming up close—salt, musk, the faint metallic tang of pre. She leaned forward and dragged her tongue along the underside in one long, slow stripe.

Haida’s whole body shuddered. A low, broken growl rumbled in his chest.

“Retsuko—!”

She looked up at him through her lashes, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed dark. “I want… I want to try. Please?”

He stared down at her, chest heaving, then gave one jerky nod.

What followed was slow, reverent, filthy.

Retsuko’s mouth stretched wide around the head, cheeks hollowing as she struggled to take even the first few inches. Saliva drooled down the shaft in glistening strings, pooling at the base where his balls rested against his thighs. She moaned around him, the vibration making his hips snap forward involuntarily, pushing another thick inch past her lips.

Haida’s paws hovered uselessly in the air before finally settling on the back of her head—not pushing, just cradling, claws gentle against her fur.

“Gods… your mouth… it’s so hot… so small…”

She hummed in answer, tongue swirling, paws stroking what she couldn’t fit. The wet, obscene sounds of sucking and slurping filled the quiet office, punctuated by Haida’s ragged breathing and the occasional wet gag when she tried to take him deeper.

Fenneko zoomed in mercilessly. Tsunoda had one paw between her own thighs now, biting her lip.

Ton had slid down the filing cabinet entirely, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, muttering “not fair… not fair…” like a broken mantra.

Retsuko pulled off with a wet pop, gasping, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his cock. “I want… I want more,” she panted. “I want all of it… inside me…”

Haida’s eyes snapped open, pupils blown.

“You sure?” he rasped. “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

She stood on shaky legs, paws already working at the buttons of her skirt. “I need it. Please, Haida. I’ve wanted you for so long… I just… didn’t know you were hiding this.”

He scooped her up with surprising strength, setting her on the edge of his desk. Papers scattered. Pens rolled to the floor. Neither of them cared.

He lined himself up, the blunt head nudging against her soaked entrance. She was dripping—slick coating her inner thighs, the scent of her arousal sharp and sweet.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, tail curling around his thigh. “I want all of you.”

He pushed in.

Slow.

Inch by torturous inch.

Retsuko’s head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure-pain. Her claws dug into his shoulders, leaving red lines through his shirt. When he finally bottomed out—balls pressed flush against her ass—she let out a trembling, broken moan.

“F-full… so full… Haida… you’re… splitting me open…”

He groaned, hips trembling with the effort of holding still. “You’re… squeezing me so tight… feels like… like a fist…”

Then he started to move.

Slow, deep rolls at first—pulling out until just the head remained, then sliding back in to the hilt. Each thrust dragged a new whimper from Retsuko’s throat. The desk creaked beneath them. Wet slaps echoed through the room.

Fenneko’s laughter had died down to stunned, appreciative giggles. Tsunoda was openly masturbating now, phone shaking in her other hand.

Ton just stared, tears streaming, one paw limply covering his own pitifully average erection through his slacks.

Haida’s pace quickened. Harder. Deeper. The thick shaft pistoned in and out, stretching Retsuko’s walls to their limit, the bulge of him visible in her lower belly with each thrust.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come,” he growled, voice rough. “Where—?”

“Inside!” Retsuko cried, legs locking tighter. “Please—fill me—mark me—”

That was all it took.

Haida slammed home one last time, burying himself to the root. His balls drew up tight and he came with a guttural roar.

Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded her. Pulse after pulse. So much that it backed up around his shaft and leaked out in creamy white rivulets, dripping onto the desk, onto the carpet. Retsuko’s own orgasm crashed over her—walls clenching rhythmically, milking every last drop, her small body shaking in his arms.

When he finally pulled out with a wet schlick, a gush of seed followed, pooling beneath her.

They stayed like that for a long moment—panting, trembling, foreheads pressed together.

Fenneko finally lowered her phone.

“Well,” she said cheerfully, “that was educational.”

Tsunoda swooned against a nearby chair. “I’m keeping these forever.”

Ton let out one last, defeated sob.

“…I need a new job.”

Retsuko just smiled up at Haida, dazed and blissed-out, cum still dripping down her thighs.

“See?” she whispered, nuzzling his chest. “Not too big at all.”

Haida laughed—shaky, disbelieving—and pulled her close.

And somewhere in the back of the office, under the flickering fluorescent lights, the accounting department would never be the same again.

Blacklisted
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