VEYLOR

NEW
Sale price$119.99USD

SIZE: S
COLOR: AlienSliver

Veylor’s form feels like a goo transformation - thick, viscous, and alive. Irregular, slime-like growths cling tightly along the shaft, rising and stretching outward to create pronounced bumps and uneven textures with undeniable presence. These flowing extensions travel from the tip downward, gradually thickening and gathering as they go, eventually merging into rounded masses at the base. Every contour is designed to be fully felt, immersive, and impossible to ignore.

— Designed by Morgan Morningstar

Veylor

Veylor was not born on the Nothosaur Mainland.
In the beginning, it was nothing more than a sentient mass of slime, drifting through rifts within a chaotic void. It wandered without direction, without form—until one mistake carried it too far.
It slipped into Stonehenge.
The ancient stone circle tore open. Reality split apart. In the next instant, Veylor was thrown into a world that felt free, wild, and violently alive.
This was the Nothosaur Mainland.
Veylor needed a host to maintain a stable form.
It encountered many creatures. Strong ones. Fragile ones. Almost all of them reacted the same way. After a brief period of coexistence, fear set in. The sensation of being occupied overwhelmed them. Panic followed. They lost control, rejected the presence inside them... to force Veylor out.
The slime was torn apart. Ripped away by force.
Again.
And again.
Over time, Veylor learned when to leave. It would pull away just before the host collapsed completely.
Until it drifted into Brooke Grassland.
The plains were quiet. Too quiet. Soft, open, almost comforting. The air carried a scent Veylor liked—something unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar at the same time.
And Conola was there.
He did not reject coexistence like the others.
When Veylor cautiously reached out, testing the distance—sliding along his breath, following the pulse beneath his skin, easing itself into his body—Conola stiffened slightly.
But he did not resist.
The symbiosis was not smooth.
There were moments when Conola felt unwell. His breathing grew rapid, uneven. Inside him, something filled his body, stretched it open from within, pressing against places that had never been touched that way before. The sensation was unfamiliar, intense—enough to force him to stop, to brace himself, low breaths slipping from his throat as his body struggled to adjust.
Veylor felt it.
It started to withdraw.
The slime slowly pulled itself out of Conola’s body. And for the first time, Veylor realized it did not want to leave. Conola, as that presence faded, felt something else instead—emptiness. As if his body had already grown used to the weight of being accompanied.
Veylor sensed that.
From then on, it would do everything it could to meet Conola’s needs.
Veylor invaded again.
This time, it did not hesitate.
The slime spread. It covered him, occupied him, claimed every part of Conola’s body, embedding its will directly into the structure of his flesh. When it slid across Conola’s g-spot, his legs gave out. He was forced down onto the ground, hands pressed against the earth, struggling to steady his shattered breathing.
Inside him, Veylor continued to move—slow, deliberate. Testing limits. Pushing deeper. Not just exploring, but marking territory.
At last, the symbiosis was complete.
The once majestic stallion no longer looked whole. No longer looked natural. He had become something monstrous. Veylor continued to stimulate him, relentlessly, until the massive pillar beneath him still throbbed, black slime seeping outward.
Conola’s eyes burned red. His breathing was heavy as he wandered through Brooke Grassland, no longer alone, searching for their next prey.
This was the first time—
Symbiosis was no longer a brief stay.