Vixen The Problem

Yo. Wuts da hapz? So I kinda wrote this or whatever. So…treat yourself to reading it I guess. I’m not your keeper. Do what you want. But if you do read it and like what you’ve read, I take commissions for writing custom stories. I have absolutely no limits. Suggest whatever you want. And if you don’t, feel free to tell me it sucked. I ain’t scurred.
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It’s not fair. Why do people keep treating me like this? It’s not my fault. I didn’t ask to be born like this. And it’s not like I’m being a nuisance. I try to stay out of everyone’s way as much as I can. So why? Why does everyone feel the need to make fun of me? To laugh at me? To hurt me? Did I say something I shouldn’t have to someone really important? I didn’t mean to. This isn’t right.

“Ooo, what a fox,” I hear as I walk through the halls. I clench my bag.

“Hey, say something, foxy,” I hear someone else say. I walk faster.

“Shouldn’t pets be on a leash?” someone else adds on. My eyes start to water.

“Nevermind that, where’s her owner?” someone else chimes in. I run on the brink of tears, hearing nothing but the sounds of everyone’s amusement.

I make it to my safe space. It’s an empty hillside marked by a single oak tree. It’s pretty far from the school and very secluded from society. It’s the perfect place to go when I need to calm down. I place my bag down and curl up beside the tree, recalling the events of the day. They do nothing but push me. Pull my tail. Ask me what I say…Laugh at me. That’s the worst of it. They laugh at me. I hate it. I don’t know how much I can go through with this.

A few tears hit the ground. They’re doing this to me. I come to them in kindness and they do this. Maybe I should transfer again. There’s bound to be a place for me where I can be amongst humans without being jaded. There has to be. Right?

In the midst of my thoughts, I hear a noise. Footsteps? Uh oh. I thought no one knew about this place. That’s why I come here. I climb the tree, hiding in the leaves, waiting for the person to appear then leave.

The source of the footsteps appears and it’s…a boy? Oh no. The uniform. He’s from the school. Did he track me down? Why won’t they just leave me alone? Wait, what’s he doing? Why’s he kicking a rock? What did the rock do? Do these people have no bounds? Why must they pick on the defenseless? Wait, it doesn’t seem that he’s enjoying it. He seems…dour? Why? He gets closer, still kicking the poor rock. He eventually stops and stares at the horizon before sitting down and sighing.

“That poor girl,” he says, picking up the rock, “She gets chastised every day just for being different. Where is she? I swear I saw her go somewhere over here. Hm.”

What? He followed me? Why would he follow me? What could he possibly want? I cause nothing but trouble for anyone I come into contact with, so friendship’s out of the question. Did I drop anything out of my bag?…MY BAG!!! Pleasedon’tnoticepleasedon’tnoticepleasedon’tnoticepleasedon’tnotice! Ah! He’s noticing!

“Huh?” he says after noticing, “Is this her bag?” He stands and picks it up, scanning the area. He then looks up at the tree. Fuck! He takes a step towards it. Screw it. I dive out of the leaves, catching my bag in my mouth after scaring him. I then make a run for it on all fours just so he won’t keep up with me. I hear him calling after me as I run, but I don’t look ba-…Wait, how is it that it sounded close? I turn around to see that he’s nearly on my tail. Literally. Can humans really be this fast?!

“Hey!” he calls out, “Hang on a second! I just wanna talk to you!”

Liar. I can smell the stench of that lie from a lightyear away. I speed up to create some distance between us before casting a wall of blue fire with my tail. I stop in my tracks to make sure I didn’t hurt him. Doesn’t sound like it so that’s good. Looks like I’m in the clear. That is until I see him emerge from the flames. How tough is he?!

I try to start running again only for him to tackle me and lock me in place. I try breaking free, not wanting for him to do anything to me like…Petting me? What the hell? Is he really petting me? I start to calm down, both because he’s clearly not trying to hurt me and this actually feels…pretty…good.

“Shh,” he starts in a soothing tone, “I’m not gonna hurt you. You don’t need to be scared. I just wanna talk. That’s all. Calm down.”

I eventually comply, sensing no ill intent from him. He seems like a really strong human. I’m sure if he wanted to do anything by now, he would have.

“There we go,” he continues, “See? I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re safe.”

But can I trust him, though? Just because he hasn’t already, doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan to-ooooh yeah. Right there. Right behind the ear. There we go. Keep scratching. Yaaaaay. His scratching is making me melt. Fine. We can talk. Just don’t ever. Ever stop.

And of course he stops. Perfect. I look at him and he looks back at me. I give him a wanting stare and he gets the message. He continues with the ear scratches and once again, I’m in pure bliss. This is heaven. Keep it up. Please.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he says. I snap out of my daze before saying,

“Animal instincts. I am a fox.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell.”

“Cute.”

“Nope. Only one of us here holds that title.”

He pokes my nose and I blush. Is he serious? Does he actually find me cute?

“Tell you what,” he says, picking me up and walking, “How’s about we talk at my place? It’s starting to get chilly. I wouldn’t want you to freeze.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” I respond, “I wouldn’t wanna impose.”

“Nonsense. You’re more than welcome to convene at my humble abode.”

“Well, ok. Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

He continues walking while carrying me. He’s so warm and comfy. It’s so nice. He feels like a mobile bed. I instinctively burrow into his chest. He just feels so good. Eventually, we get to his house and he steps inside. He places me on his couch and he sits in a nearby chair.

“So,” he starts, “Fox girl, huh? That’s gotta be something.”

“Nothing that exciting,” I respond, “One minute, I’m watching a movie, the next, I’m scratching a flea out of my tail. Pretty dull.”

“Well, you make it interesting. That fire trick is something else. How’d you do that?”

“I was born with it. Fire’s kinda like my heartbeat. Always got it and it’s always handy.”

“Now, when you say ‘born’, does that mean your parents are…”

“Ummm, well, that’s kind of a weird story. Please promise not to judge.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright, well, my father was a very adventurous man. He was a chemist who did studies on human and animal hybrids. One day, he befriended a fox, waited for it to be in heat, and here I am, a human girl with a bushy tail and some ears. I told you it’s a weird story.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s bad. Are they still in the picture? You’re saying ‘was’ a lot.”

I clench onto my skirt. This part is always the hardest to get through.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says after seeing my reaction, “If you can’t say, it’s fine.”

“No,” I respond, “It’s fine.”

I let out a sigh. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I was seen as just an experiment to him. He’d study my every move, question me at every opportunity, buy me things just for the sole purpose of noting my reaction; of course it was fine at first because I was just a cub. I didn’t know any better. But he’d also focus on negative spectrums: responding coldly to some of my questions, shooing me when I wanted to play, ‘unintentionally’ pushing me, etc. But it wasn’t until I was fifteen when I started to piece together that he didn’t really want me. I confronted him about it, he denied, I pushed harder, he broke, we fought, he said some things, I said some things, and I thought that was the end of it. Until the next day when I found that he set my mom free. He wiped her memory of my existence and sent her back to the wild. My mother was the only one who cared for me. We were so close. And that bastard ruined it. We fought again. He threatened to get rid of me and start over. I slapped him and told him I never wanted to see him again. Then, I left and never looked back. But I noticed that people of a certain age get into trouble when they’re not in school. So to prevent that, I’ve been using school as sort of like camouflage for five years. Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all of this. I know it’s too much to take in.”

Judging by his reaction to the story, he seems upset. I knew I shouldn’t have dragged it out for so long. I’m pretty sure a simple “no” would’ve sufficed. Now he’s traumatized. I should just go. I don’t need to be telling people my life’s story.

“I should probably go,” I say standing up, “Again, I’m sorry for taking this much of your time.”

Before I can take a step towards the door, I feel him grab my arm. He turns me around and embraces me in a hug. I’m confused. Why’s he doing this? I thought hugs were given when you care about someone. Does he care about me? That can’t be. No one cared about me before. So why him?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Does he feel sympathy for me? Have I finally met someone who’s not spiteful of me? Am I finally doing something right?

I hug him back, realizing that I’m sobbing. Why am I crying? Did reliving that experience affect me more than I thought it would? No. The feeling I have right now doesn’t match it. Yes, the story still hurts, but the feeling seems to originate from him. But he isn’t hurting me or making me sad in any way. I don’t understand. What am I feeling?

“Are you ok?” he says, noticing my tears, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the story would be that painful. I shouldn’t have made you go through it again.”

“It’s not that,” I correct before sniffing, “I don’t know why I’m crying. There’s this feeling I have right now. I don’t know what it is. But I feel that you’re causing it. You’re the first person to ever listen to me or speak to me without shaming me. What is it?”

“I see,” he responds, “Tell me, the feeling you feel right now, is it similar to the feeling of the bond you had with your mother?”

“Well, it’s not quite there. Nothing ever compared to it. But there’s hints of it.”

“Ok, so that means that you care for me now. Some call it a feeling of love.”

Love? I’ve heard it here and there in shows and movies. Is that a real thing? If it is and this is what I’m feeling, I don’t want it to end. Well, maybe it can slow down a bit. It’s starting to become overwhelming.

“Is it supposed to be this intense?” I question, “If so, how can I tone it down.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he responds with a chuckle. That’s a shame. Wait, what’s that look he’s giving all of a sudden. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Wait,” he continues, “You said the feeling’s becoming intense, right?”

“Yeah,” I respond,

“And You’re half fox, correct?”

“I am.”

He then pulls out his phone, frantically typing. I’m getting a little freaked out. What’s going on? His face then changes from mortified to something else. It’s redder than my tail. Is he mad? What’s wrong?

“Ummm,” he finally says in a shaky tone, “Alright, so…Are you aware of the month?”

“December,” I answer, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh boy,” he says, scratching the back of his head, “I assume you’ve never had…the talk.”

I’m taken aback. Why’s he bringing that up now? It’s hardly the time nor place. We’ve just met. Humans and their hormones.

“I have,” I respond, blushing, “It’s when two humans, both man and woman, get together and…procreate. But I hardly see what that has to do with anything.”

“Ok, you have one half of the spectrum, but what about the other half?” he questions. What does he mean? I’ve only ever been taught on the human portion. I’d assume it’s the same for foxes. I’m so lost. I guess he sees my confusion, so he says,

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘In heat’?”

“Yes,” I respond even more confused, “What does warmth have to do with procreation? And what does that have to do with anything? You’re being strange.”

“Wow, ok,” he says, taking a deep breath, “Never would’ve thought I’d explain this to a fox, but here we are. Alright, at certain parts of the year, typically around this time in December all the way into March, foxes have a cycle in which they have a deep need to…fulfil certain…urges. Us humans refer to it as going in heat.”

Well, now I’m embarrassed. Not only does a human know more about my anatomy than I do, but I just had to exude the most embarrassing quality. I’ve never gotten why characters wanted to be killed when bashfulness strikes, but now I do. I hide my face in my hands, unable to even face him anymore.

“It’s fine,” he says, “It’s just nature. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

He’s so kind. But I wish he’d tone it down. It’s just making the feeling worse.

“There’s a way to stop it,” he starts, “But I’m not sure you’d like it. Like you said, we just met, so that’d be weird.”

Under normal circumstances, I’d completely agree, but this feeling is becoming more and more unbearable by the second. I don’t think I care anymore.

“No,” I say, “Let’s do it. I mean, if it’s a known method, it can’t be too bad, right?”

“Well, only if you’re sure,” he says,

“Positive. Please, just make this stop.”

“Ok, follow me.”

He heads up his stairs and I follow him. We walk into a room and he shuts the door. Is this his room? It looks nice.

“Ok, so to do this, you’re going to need to get undressed,” he says.

I blush before nodding and stepping out of my shoes. I then remove my blouse and skirt, foreboding what next two articles of clothing have to follow. Then the feeling makes its presence known, knocking away that thought. I take a breath before unclasping my bra, letting it fall to the floor as I cover my breasts. I then pull down my panties and cover my…area, turning my head away from him. I noticed he removed his shirt, but stopped moving when I finished. I can feel him gazing at my body. While embarrassing, it is a little endearing. But the former overlaps it.

“Don’t stare like that,” I say, “It feels weird.”

He chuckles before removing the last of his clothing. I glance towards him and he’s stunning. I’ve never seen anyone without clothes on, but if they looked anything like this, I want animals and humans to switch views on clothing arrangements. He steps towards me, freezing me in place with his eyes of desire. I almost feel like I’m in the presence of a hungry wolf as he circles me, waiting to devour me.

He gently shoves me to a nearby wall. I gasp at his sudden action before he stands before me, towering me. He then lifts my chin with his finger before closing the gap between our lips, giving me a passionate kiss. I feel his hand touching my body, tracing and exploring it with every touch. Yes. Touch me more. Please. His hand then lands on my right breast, grabbing and kneading it as his other hand lifts my left leg.

He then takes his leg and pushes it to my center, sending a jolt of pleasure to that one spot and causing me to let out a light moan. Fuck, that felt incredible. Do it again. Please, do it again. Do whatever you want to me.

My silent pleas are answered as he starts moving his leg, causing more moans from me. Without thinking, I start grinding on his leg, causing an even greater feeling. More. Give me more. I need it. But to my dismay, he removes his leg. He breaks the kiss and says,

“You liked that, huh?”

I bashfully nod my head.

“Well, you’re gonna like this even more. He slides his hand from my breast all the way down to my center, rubbing it.

I gently moan, letting him know that he was right. This is infinitely better than his knee. After a moment, he speeds up his movement, causing me to moan louder and more frequently. Eventually, he stops again. But now he’s bringing his hand to his mouth. What’s he-…And he’s licking some clear fluid from one of his fingers. What? It doesn’t look like what typically comes from there, thank goodness, but still.

He sees my confusion and brings his other finger to my mouth. I reluctantly give it a small lick. It’s surprisingly good. I take his finger in my mouth, licking the rest of the fluid. Eventually, he takes his finger back and puts it back on my center. But this time’s different. He’s not rubbing anymore. He’s going under. Before I can question his methods, I feel an intense wave of pleasure as he sticks his fingers inside of me. I let out a loud moan as he does so. He then starts thrusting his fingers in and out of me, causing more moans to escape me. He smirks at me before speeding up his movements, sending me into pleasure heaven. I don’t ever want this to end.

“Fuck, this feels even better,” I say in between moans, “Keep going. Please don’t stop. Oh, it feels so good. It feels so good. Yeah. Just like that. Oh yeah. Deeper. Please go deeper into me. Oooo. Fuck yeah.”

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he questions,

“Yes. I love it. I love your fingers going deeper into my hole. It’s so good.”

I’m making such lewd noises, saying such lewd things, feeling such lewd feelings, all because of him. Is this also what it means to love? It’s glorious. He makes me feel so special. I never would’ve thought I’d want this, but he has to be my master. No one else makes me feel as complete as he does. I want to be his. I want him to own me.

“You’re really getting into it, huh?” he whispers in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine,

“Yes…master,” I whisper back. Wait, now he’s stopping. And he’s making an even more devious face. Was I not supposed to make that commitment yet? Is this the equivalent of proposing? Before I can say anything else, I’m picked up and carried to the bed. He places me down and spreads my legs. He then leans down, wrapping my legs in his arms, and starts licking my center, sending an even greater jolt all throughout my entire body. I instinctively arch my back and start moaning. This feeling is insane. Why do people celebrate Christmas when this can happen? I then feel him suck on a specific part of my center and it drives me wild. I grip onto the sheets, letting out even lewder moans than before.

“Yes!” I yell out, “Right there! Fuck! Oh yeah! Please keep going! Please! Suck on me more! Ah!”

His mouth feels so good on me. It’s like everything before now was just a dream and I’m finally being awakened. I don’t ever want to sleep again. He once again gradually stops his movements. This time, I’m just getting excited. It seems like every time he stops, we do something even better.

He places his hand on my stomach, lightly rubbing it. Ooo. That’s nice.

“So you want me to be your master?” he questions, still rubbing my tummy, “You want to be my little pet?”

“Yeah,” I respond, still savoring his touch, “I want to be yours.”

He pats my tummy a few times before turning me over. What’s going on now? He then lifts up the lower part of my body. I blush as my rear is presented to him. I then feel something rubbing against my entrance. Wait, are we gonna procreate? Am I gonna bear his children?

“You might wanna brace yourself,” he warns, “I’ll start out slow, but this is gonna hurt a little, ok?”

I’m scared but I trust him. He is my master after all. Plus, this is such a popular activity. How bad could it actually be-eeeeeaaahhhh! He grabs my hips and slowly pulls me towards him. Holy hell this hurts! But I can tough through it.

He then stops everything, rubbing my back for comfort. Eventually, the pain subsides. Huh. That wasn’t so bad. I let out a breath of relief. I guess he took this as a sign to move forth. He firmly grasps my hips and starts slowly moving in and out of me. With each thrust, pleasure starts taking the place of the pain. Soon, pleasure is all I can feel and I let out a light moan. He speeds up his movements a bit, earning louder moans. He then leans down to my ear, whispering,

“This is what us humans call ‘fucking’. If you want to feel even better, call to your master.”

Today just gets more and more informative. Not only have I just been informed that “Fuck” has a different side to it, but now I know just how amazing the human body is. This has been an interesting day. And now I’m feeling sensations I’ve never felt before. I want more. I need more.

“Master,” I call out. He speeds up the pace. More.

“Master.” He speeds up more. Even more.

“Master!” I cry out. He thrusts harder and faster, grabbing onto my breasts. Fuck, this is perfect. It almost feels like he’s getting deeper with each thrust. I love it.

“Yes master,” I moan out, “Fuck me. Fuck your little pet. Push deeper into me. Ooo. It’s so big. I love it. I love you. Claim me, master. Make me yours. Nobody else’s. I belong to you. Yes. Yes. Yes. Harder. Deeper. Faster.”

He’s driving me insane. I never would’ve guessed anyone would turn me into this. I love being a pet. If only I knew this is what came with being one. Why is it looked down upon if it feels this goooood?

Eventually, I start to get another new feeling. It’s building with every second. It’s the most extreme feeling I’ve ever felt.

“Master,” I cry out, “Something’s coming. What is this?”

He turns me around again and pins me to the bed, continuing his pace.

“This is called an orgasm,” he explains through breaths, “Otherwise known as cumming. And when you do, you’ll be a good girl. You wanna be a good girl for your master?”

I frantically nod my head. There’s nothing more that I want than to be a good pet for my master.

“Then make me proud and cum.”

I want to make my master proud. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna cum for you, master. Watch me. Watch me as I cum for you. My orgasm builds more and more. Soon, I arch my back and let out a loud moan, feeling something come out of my center. There are no words for what I’m feeling right now. I feel like I’m constantly dying, but a little bit of life is returning to me. Moments later, the feeling settles, but my master keeps going.

“Good girl,” he says, still thrusting, “You enjoy yourself?”

I only manage to nod my head. It’s all I can do. I’m so drained.

“Good. Now here’s your reward.”

He thrusts a few more times before letting out a groan. I then feel something warm and sticky enter inside of me. Is this his cum? There’s so much. I love it. I’m officially his. I’m gonna have babies. This is so exciting. I’m going to be a mother. He takes a few minutes to catch his breath, then slowly pulls out of me.

“You’re such a good girl,” he says, petting me. It feels so nice being complimented. Especially by my master. “Now, here’s your treat. You get to clean me off.”

I never thought cleaning would be a treat, but hey, he’s my master. His rules.

“Ok,” I respond. I stand to go look for a rag and some soap, but before I take a step, he grabs my arm and chuckles.

“No no no,” he says, “With your mouth.”

I can clean things with my mouth? But mom always said it was “unsanitary”. Oh well. My master said so, so I’m gonna do it.

“Oh,” I say, “Alright. So how do I do it?”

“First, get on your knees.”

I comply.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

I comply, confused.

“Good girl.”

He then positions his member to my mouth.

“Now, suck on this until it’s all clean.”

I wrap my lips around his appendage, sucking on it, savoring the taste of our combined fluids. He then grabs my head and moves it back and forth, letting out light groans in the process. I must be doing a good job. I’m making my master feel so good. He must be so proud of me.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says, “Suck on master’s dick.”

“Dick?” Is that what this is? Wow, that just changes my perspective of anyone who’s ever been called that as an insult. I suck harder and move my head faster on my own, garnering better and better reactions from him. I bet I can do you one better, master. I slide more of him in my mouth, reaching the base of his dick, maintaining my speed.

“Fuck!” he calls out, “Fuck yeah! You’re such a good girl. Keep sucking. Don’t you fucking stop. Look at me. Look up at your master. Look at who you belong to.”

I do as I’m told, locking eye contact with my conqueror. The look on his face gives me euphoria. I’m bringing him such joy. He starts petting my head. He’s the best master I could’ve ever asked for.

After a few moments of sucking his dick, I feel it twitch. I take it as a sign that he’s about to cum. He pulls my mouth off of him and says between groans,

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue like before.”

I comply as he takes his hand and squeezes onto his dick, rapidly moving it up and down the length of it. He then lets out a grunt shooting ropes of his cum on my face and in my mouth. I swallow what I can as he catches his breath. He then grins at me.

When he composes himself, he goes over to his pile of clothes saying,

“Stay right there for a moment.”

I obey. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He walks back over to me pointing it to my face.

“Smile,” he says. Before I can, I’m blinded by the light and hear a click, realizing that he took a picture of me like this. It’s an odd way of commemorating a memory, but to each their own.

“That was amazing,” I say after he puts his phone down,

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he says, “But it’s getting a little late. I should probably be taking you home now.”

Oh right. I have one of those.

“Ah, yeah,” I reply, “Right. That’s probably the move.”

“Alright, let’s clean up your face, get dressed, and we can go.”

He hands me a towel and I wipe my face of his essence before putting my clothes back on. Throughout all of this, the last hour just went on repeat in my head. Every sensation I felt, every sound I made, every look he gave me, it was just phenomenal. I want to do this again. Surely he does, too. He’s so eager for next time, he’s already dressed. When I finish getting dressed, we both head downstairs and out the door.

On our way to my house, we crack a few jokes and have some really thought provoking conversations. We even had a debate on what our future children would look like. When we get to my house, we take a moment to stare at each other. He’s so gorgeous. This is my master. I belong to this man alone. Nothing can change that.

He embraces me in his arms and kisses my neck, causing me to let out a light gasp. No fair. Now I’m gonna struggle to wait until next time. You’re so mean, master. He lets go and says,

“See you tomorrow, pet.” He then heads home. I step inside my house before leaning back first on it and sliding down. I’ve always wanted to do that. And now I have a reason. There’s finally a person who truly cares about me. And he owns me. I can’t wait to see him again. I head to my room, reliving my amazing experience before drifting to sleep.

The next day approaches and I couldn’t be happier. I get to see my master again. I prepare for the day and head to the school. As I’m walking, I get the usual stares and snickers from the usual people. But that’s not getting me today. Nothing can upset me anymore. Nothing will get to me anymore. As long as I…have…him.

What I see before me, causes my heart to stop. I reach the school and see a print out of a photo of me. But not just any photo. It’s the photo from last night with my master. Who did this? Why did they do this? How did they do this? Did they steal his phone?

Before I question it even more, my joy returns when I see my master. But what’s he doing with the bullies? Oh, right. He’s new here. He doesn’t know that they’re jerks. I walk over to him.

“Master!” I call out, “Master, it’s me!”

He turns to me. But he doesn’t seem too thrilled. I guess he saw the pictures, too.

“Master, it’s terrible,” I start, “I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.”

“Oh no,” he says mockingly, “Don’t tell me some dashing rogue put up some images of the aftermath of him thrashing your little fox hole last night.”

He laughs along with his crew. What?

“Don’t you get it?” he continues, “You’ve been played, you little whore. And I’m sure as hell not your master. Come on, you really thought I just so happened to be following you on that day in particular? Wow. For a freak accident of a crazy scientist and a dumb fox, you’re really just as dumb as they come.”

What?

“Now, just do us all a favor, alright? See if you can get someone over there to claim you. See if you can get more pics like this. And please get them to have you say things like this again.”

He pulls out his phone and my voice starts playing.

“Fuck me. Fuck your little pet. Push deeper into me. Ooo. It’s so big. I love it. I love you. Claim me, master. Make me yours. Nobody else’s. I belong to you. Yes. Yes. Yes. Harder. Deeper. Faster.”

I feel…funny. My heartbeat is the only thing I can hear now. I can’t see anything as clearly anymore. It’s all blurry. I can’t move. Why can’t I learn? Humans are nothing but scum. Why would I trust them? Why would I let them get in my head like this? They don’t want companionship. They just use. Manipulate. Hurt. Well, I’m done. No more. Humanity is nothing to me. They can burn for their sins.

Huh? My vision is returning. Why is everything blue? Wait, I think I can hear something. Birds? Ooo. Nice. Wait, something else…fire? Hang on, does that mean I can move now? I sit up and realize I’m in the middle of some rubble. Huh. Maybe I should find a different form of camouflage

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/t3mbhb/vixen_the_problem