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FOXTOY By Limewah 18+

CW: Contains Hypnosis, Intense Brainwashing, Mind Break, and a society with authoritarian dystopian tendencies.

I keep my hands jammed tightly into my pockets.

I’m still not used to walking with my tail shaved down. The lack of bulk makes me feel way too light, and I feel like I might trip over it. Thank fuck there are plenty of long-tailed foxes about… otherwise I might have had to dock my tail to blend in the way some others I knew had done to try and blend in. I’d be even clumsier than usual if my centre of gravity was changed that drastically.

The noise cancelling earbuds hiss in my ears, a constant rankling noise that keeps out all the other background sounds from penetrating into my head.

My fur’s been dyed arctic white with a black tail tip. The fake vulpine snout sits over my real one, carefully glued to my face. No one would bat an eye at me.

Speaking of eyes, mine are sore from hours of wearing translucent contact lenses, the ones that keep the propaganda on every screen, billboard and shopfront from seeping into my mind. I don’t want to look too long at any of those symbols anyway.

I’m sure the foxes don’t mind having those big fox-faces looming over them, or having that. They love looking at themselves, even as an abstract black front-facing silhouette.

It’s dangerous to stare at that shape, and all the things it implies and suggests.

Once, I got drawn to a billboard on top of what used to be a community centre, and was now one of the few ‘Education’ facilities that hadn’t closed down.

The shape bore down at me. Big ears. Bushy cheeks. Long snout. Looming. Encompassing

It was written in a language I understood, even though most of the rest of the city's signs had been replaced with the language of this city’s new rulers.

FOX EDUCATION CENTRE - MUSTELIDAE AND AILURIDAE

Even the word ‘FOX’ itself is a virus now. It slipped into my brain without me noticing it. It whispered to me. It tempted me.

This was a place for furs like me. It was ready and waiting for me.

I caught myself staring, realised my muzzle was parting, and felt a desire to march towards the siren sign, into the building, and offer myself up to be Educated, to learn about Foxes, to accept the truth about Foxes, which was that they were to be-

Fuck.

I realised I wasn’t wearing my contacts at that moment, and managed - only just - to tear myself away from the sign and hurry home with my head down low, hoping no one had noticed how I was gawking, taking a long, winding route to ensure I wasn’t being tailed back to my home, even though I never spotted anyone behind me, or even any cameras…

Even thinking about that near miss now sends a shiver of fear from the base of my skull down to the base of my spine.

And that shiver then lingers between my legs, turns warmer.

Why does the idea of giving in arouse me so much?

It must be build-up from all those little exposures to the signs, the screens, the sounds… It couldn’t have been there before. That’s the insidious part. You can’t tell where your own thoughts end and the hints of conditioning begin.

My fixation on that causes me to bump into someone. They yelp and wheel on me.

The purple-furred fox, white face, black and yellow stripes on the cheeks, looks a bit younger than me, got a bit of a punky scene kid look about him. He's also got some lupine features. Very yellow eyes, rounded ears.

This society doesn't discriminate between “purebloods” and “halfbreeds” - if you've got fox blood in you, you're a fox, with all the perks that brings.

Not that it makes, well, any of this ok. I am not going to hand it to them.

I apologise, using one of the few words of Fox-speak I can say without an accent.

He smiles back at me, waving it off, and he starts to talk to me, all friendly smiles. Is he flirting?

I can’t follow a word of what he’s saying. I know ‘Foxfriend’, and I know ‘lovely day’ but that’s about it.

I smile and nod at him, hoping that’s the right way to respond, even as I feel my heart fluttering.

Behind the fox is a tall handsome square jawed wolf. He wears a black harness, black underwear, and a collar attached to a lead that’s curled around the fox’s knuckles.

The wolf’s cock is visibly bulging.

He’s staring into space with a serene smile, his eyes opaque white.

Every so often, a little ripple pulses from the middle outwards, like a droplet of milk into a half-full dish.

There's not a single thought in that head, is there

…

What does that even feel like?

“Where’s your toy?” Purple asks, and I murmur a “No, sorry” before gently brushing by and continuing on my way. Hoping he’s not following me with his eyes.

The foxes are living it up, like nothing’s changed at all. Having their coffees at nice cafes, playing in the parks, taking work calls while power-walking down the street(with their personal slaves in tow, obviously).

Life’s good for them.

So good, in fact, that a fox out in public without a ‘toy’ must seem suspicious. There’s more than enough non-foxes to go around, for every fox to have at least one…

Head down. Don’t make eye contact. Always look like you’re heading somewhere, but not to the extent that someone might get suspicious.

Don’t look at any screens, even when you have the contacts on.

And whatever you do.

Don’t talk to foxes.

–

The revolution was deviously stealthy. No one saw the signs.

There was a sizeable population of foxes to begin with, not quite the majority, but enough for them to have a significant voting bloc. So why wouldn’t they back a mayoral candidate of the same species as them?

I mean, I voted for Blanchard too. He had good politics. Subsidised transport, public ownership of utilities, that sort of thing. Promising and accomplishing were two separate things, but… I had the sense he’d fight for it. And that was more important.

I’d shook Blanchard’s paw once at a community fete. He had this gorgeous fur, these sea-green eyes, and a bright smile that strangely didn’t feel all that predatory. I felt like I could trust him to stick up for everyone, not just foxes.

And things were good after he won! He followed through in a way that no one could have anticipated. Free public transport within the first year, pedestrianised zones that gave a respite from that constant hum and stink of cars, subsidy for the arts for fuck’s sake, it seemed too good to be true!

But it was, so why wouldn’t we vote for the people who’d support his work?

So what if they were all foxes? They were right for the task! It felt right.

Of course there were rumblings. Obviously the usual nutjobs were raving and ranting about ‘overreach’ and ‘tyranny’, but all you had to do was look around and see how much better things were with him in charge.

With foxes in charge.

He started having more regular events. Big celebrations in every park and square, always illuminated by a big screen behind the mayor and the other foxes who made up the city council. New public works, new initiatives for the vulnerable, every one of them met with cheers and rapt applause.

I missed out on a lot of those - neurodivergence was to blame for that - which meant I missed out on a lot of those seeds being planted. The hidden messages within those screens, filtered beneath the foxes’ amplified voices.

Then the re-education began in earnest.

Every building that was large enough was converted into an Re-Education centre, not just the schools, but every gathering hall and unused office buildings.

I don’t know what goes on in those places. I still don’t want to know. All I know is that whatever docility and agreeability towards foxes they’d already implanted was amplified. Obeying foxes became the law of the land.

The mask fell off; it was no longer needed.

All of those social policies, everything he’d promised… all of them were rolled back, co-opted, or tightened to only benefit one group.

And everyone just… let it happen.

They didn’t have a choice at that point; the brainwashing wouldn’t allow it.

Then the city’s name was changed to ‘New Vulpes’, and it wasn’t long after that before it fully seceded from the rest of the country.

How did they get away with establishing a enclave without the government stepping in to shut it down? I don’t know.

Maybe they brainwashed the right people during a city visit?

Didn’t matter. All that matters is what this city is now - a species-supremacist-city-state, a space where Foxes are in charge of all other species of animal.

How did all the foxes fall in line and settle into this role? Are some of them brainwashed too?

These are questions I don’t want to ponder the answer to.

I’m not involved in any sort of ‘resistance’ - basically all of them are racist cunts. I was basically alone. Keeping my head down. Figuring out how I could get to a checkpoint and escape the city. Leave this all behind me.

I just needed money to bribe the guards. Even if they were brainwashed, they’d take bribes, right?

That’s what has me out today. ATMs are a no-go. But I’ve been talking to someone. Someone who I’d never met, who I only communicated with through hidden letters and squirreled-away packages. He’s the one who got me this disguise kit. He’d managed to pull some strings. There is one spot in the city where I could take out money without being caught out. I’m gonna empty the whole thing out. I’ve got a couple thousand. Hopefully a few hundred will get me past the guard, and then the rest can get me as far away from here as possible.

Then I could grow my tail fur back out again. Get rid of this dye. And escape the constant crushing pressure of the subliminal hiss, the monochrome spirals on the screens hidden behind the newsreaders espousing how prosperous New Vulpes was, and all the new accomplishments the council and Leader Blanchard had made.

I wanted my own thoughts back. I wanted to be around people who weren’t insanely foxbrained, including other foxes. Before this mass psychosis could claim me.

I start to relax after a few blocks, content that I’m not being followed. And then I catch a glimpse of someone else, eating a pastry out of a paper envelope, dressed for a day off, and notably, without a slave in sight.

It’s a short pudgy fox with bushy, grey-flecked fur like a petrified forest. A thick bushy tail. Amber eyes.

That’s Mason. I went on a date with him when I first came to the city, it didn’t really work out, but we became really close friends. He helped me find a few gigs, first volunteering, then stuff I could actually subsist on.

We spent long nights chatting. Very few people could get me to stay out past 2am, and he was one of them.

I miss those days. A lot.

I can’t stare.

I keep walking.

Just a few more blocks, then into an alley, then I can drain my account and get out of here.

“Cashmere?”

Fuck. What? Fuck. No. No. No.

Don’t look at whoever that is. No. Keep walking. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to. I’m just a fox. Don’t talk to him.

“Cashmere! Hey!”

Don’t walk faster. That’ll raise suspicion. Don’t make him think you’re listening.

A paw on my shoulder. Fuck. Here it comes.

I turn around, and the first thing I say is ‘Sorry’, but it comes out wrong, I can feel it…

He stares at me, long and hard. He’s wearing that musky cologne that he wore on that date. One of the things that kind of put me off him, to be honest. But it’s weirdly comforting.

His big beaming, croissant-crumbed smile slowly slackens, and turns apologetic.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, speaking a little slowly like he’s talking to a child. “I mistook you for someone else! Have a good day, foxfriend!”

“Yes, good, thank you” I croak. I watch him go, then continue on.

Fuck. Fuck. Did he know that was me? I can’t think about it. I’m getting the money, then I’m going. Fuck packing. I’m out of here.

I’m glad I have my passport tucked into my pocket. Otherwise I’d have trouble.

There it is.

The Rhino Diner was once a pretty solidly middling greasy-spoon. It’s abandoned now, covered in fractaling pro-fox graffiti, plastic sheeting over the long-broken windows. This place was a base of operations for some ‘rebels’, but had gotten raided a couple months back. All of them were, well… Do I even need to say it?

Why here, though?

Well, I thought, I suppose they wouldn’t think to come back here to look…

Stupid of me.

I go through an alley. The one-way maintenance door is cracked. I hurry to the door and slip my fingers into that little crack. I ease it open, wincing at the sharp sound of the creaking hinge…

Then I feel a paw on my shoulder.

I hiss and turn around, leaping away as I stifle a scream.

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Mason says, and oh, fuck, I’m so happy to hear his voice speaking a language I recognize. “Hey.”

I don’t know what to say. Don’t talk to foxes. But… no, he’s friendly. He has to be. The way he looks at me… there’s nothing adulterating it. No hints of him being possessed by the same fox mania as everyone else.

“Let’s get inside,” he says, his ears flattening down as he looks behind him. “No one’s followed us.”

Don’t talk to foxes. Don’t talk to foxes.

There’s no way of knowing what they’ll do if you give them the chance.

As soon as we’re inside the dusty, abandoned kitchen, I scan. I look for something I can throw or swing at him the moment he tries something. I can feel it. I can’t trust him. I mustn’t.

I catch a glimmer of something. A sweeping brush. Something like that.

He comes for me, and I stumble back, bracing for a fist to the face or the gut, but then he just wraps his arms around me and gives me a hug. His face presses to my chest. He’s shorter than me, and that’s saying something. My arms are raised up to chest height. I could grab him and yank him off, push him away…

But I don’t.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you…” he says, eventually.

We just stay like this for a moment.

“Everything’s so crazy out there,” he continues, his voice shuddering a little. “I can’t make sense of it…”

“You haven’t been brainwashed?” I ask, softly, my hands still wavering over his head. “Like the rest of them?”

“No,” Mason says. “I’m okay. No one’s messed with my mind. Some of the other foxes were. But I got out of it.

“Fuck, it’s so good to see you,” he says before he pulls back at last. I didn’t hug him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“How did you know it was me?” I whisper.

“It was your eyes,” Mason says. “I’d recognize them anywhere.”

Weird answer. But he was always saying weirdly romantic stuff like that. I knew he always had a thing for me, but we both understood the feeling wasn’t mutual. It’s okay to let him get a little sappy.

My shoulders are sagging. I feel safe. Just a little bit, anyway.

Not enough to let myself get caught..

“What’re you doing here?” Mason asks. “How did you not get caught in the first broadcasts?”

“I don’t know,” I lie, then lie some more. “I just… I don’t know if I got lucky or just knew how to avoid it… it doesn’t matter. I’m getting out of here. I can’t stay.”

“No, you can’t, I agree,” Mason murmurs. “Not like this. Can I help you?”

Don’t talk to foxes.

It’s too late for that.

Don’t tell him the plan.

“No… I don’t want you to get into trouble,” I tell him. “I’m going to be gone before the end of the day.”

“You’ve found a way out…?”

He looks… amazed. Like he never even considered the possibility of running away. His eyes light up.

“H-how? That’s amazing!” He clenches his fists in front of himself, and his tail is wagging, his feet taptaptaptapping on the cold kitchen floor.

It’s… cute seeing him get this excited again.

Even if it is wafting more of that cologne my way.

Something feels off about this.

I shouldn’t be talking to him.

I shouldn’t be talking to any foxes.

Even if…

He was - is my first friend from this city.

Which means I can’t put him at risk.

“I can’t put you at risk, man,” I say. “I don’t want anything to happen to a friend.”

A flash of darkness crosses his face when I say friend. A little twitch at the corner of his mouth.

I wish I’d interrogated that look further.

Not that that would have mattered.

“I understand,” Mason says. “I’m guessing there’s a dead drop or something in here, and you’re going to use it to bribe a guard at a checkpoint or let someone hitch a ride in a delivery truck.”

I don’t say anything.

“Honestly, it’s probably your best route out of Vulpes. You’ve got the right idea, Cashmere.”

I remember that I was looking for something to fight back with. He is smaller than me.

“I’m glad my instructions gave you some hope.”

I turn to ice.

“And it brought you here, to me.”

Just when I’m about to flinch and run, he raises a paw.

“Don’t bother running, your exits are already blocked by now.”

“Mason…” I sound pathetic. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

It’s like Mason’s facial structure has changed. The soft round friendly look is gone. His jaw is set, his dimpled cheeks seem to be gone… He’s standing up a little straighter too. Like he’s gained a few inches in height.

“Only foxes are allowed to walk around free. If someone else caught you, you’d be in for a lot of suffering.”

He grasps my wrist and twists, and my body curls downwards towards a knee.

“Don’t worry, though. You’re going to have a much better time with me than you would any of those other psychos.”

“What’re you-”

“Shhhshhshh.”

The cologne hits again, stronger than ever, pressed to my face by a cold damp rag.

My head swims.

“Sweet dreams,” Mason coos.

The floor is heavy and hard.

-

I wake up to the taste of a tongue in my mouth.

I sputter and spit, and the tongue leaves.

The scent that put me under is still lingering on my face, and I feel dazed.

My smearing vision starts to sharpen, and my ‘friend’ is there, looming over me.

“Oooh, there you are,” Mason says. “You’ve been out for a while. Hope you don’t mind that I played with you a bit.”

My dick’s hard, painfully so, and it feels cold…

I strain to look, but there’s a brace around my neck. I manage to glimpse my cock.

I see it’s glistening with either pre or lube, no way of knowing which.

The room is cold. The metal bed beneath me is even more so. The tight cuffs around my ankles and wrists even more than that.

I see my face reflected in a mirror above my head, a mirror that looks like the kind of thing I’d imagine seeing in a surgery theatre.

My red panda patterns are back. Has it all grown out…?

“I took the liberty of re-dying your fur for the time being,” Mason says, as if answering the question I was about to ask. “You made for a bad arctic fox anyway. You were very easy to spot.”

“Mason… please -ackh-” my hoarse throat spasms, unused.

He grabs hold of my tail, slowly stroking it. It’s a gentle touch, which terrifies me even more than a hard tug would.

“You had such a beautiful tail,” he says. “How long does it take for the fur to grow out? Hopefully not too long.”

“You said you… weren’t brainwashed?”

“I’m not,” Mason says, his tone relaxed. “I’ve been in this on the ground floor. Being an educator’s a really good gig.”

“This place used to be rammed. Even when we got the conditioning process down to about 23 minutes at a time, even when this place was full up, it just never stopped. I think it’s given me a few grey hairs. Not that you’d be able to tell with your untrained eyes, heh.”

There’s no struggling against these bonds. Though they do feel just a little big for me. Maybe I can, I don’t know, dislocate my wrist and escape…

Mason is pacing around me. He’s dressed in jet black; a turtle-necked coat with fox-shaped buttons starting from the left shoulderblade and going downwards. Clickclickclick tapping against a keyboard just out of view.

“But now, since there aren’t many Pre-Toys left to condition….”

A leather-gloved hand grabs my face. The fox’s cold, hungry eyes bore down on me.

“I can take my sweet, sweet time with you, Cashmere. And I can’t wait to see how you break.”

The machine hums to life, beneath and above me. The mirrored dome begins to glow. The edges turn white, and it spreads upwards like condensation fogging up glass.

By the time it’s reached the centre, black lines and shapes are twisting inwards behind it, swirling towards the central drain. The shapes aren’t just two-dimensional - they have dimension and thickness, and viscosity. And they seem to jockey with each other, too, pushing outward until a big teardrop forms in the centre of it…

The droplet falls towards my face, and I flinch even though I know I wouldn’t actually feel it…

The second beforehand, the dome above me explodes into a dizzying blast of monochrome colour, forming a shape that looms towards me for only a second before it’s gone, the black lines retreating to the edges like seared celluloid.

I see stars as I stare up into the white again. And the black lines start to creep down again.

I feel… a head-rush. Like I’ve just been dunked in water and come back up for air.

…It didn’t feel as unpleasant as that, though.

“You’re lucky, Cashmere,” Mason says. “This Education machine’s my favourite. Cutting edge Holographic 3D technology, too. Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” I ask.

“The droplet?” My forehead feels itchy. “No.”

“That’s to be expected, Cashmere. How about the next one…?”

Torture is about anticipation, isn’t it?

Even though I’m not quite sure what happened before, I'm still dreading it happening again.

I could just close my eyes. I wouldn’t see that big bead of black forming. It wouldn’t trick my hindbrain into thinking it’s about to hit me.

I just have to close my eyes.

But…

I keep them open.

I watch the droplet form.

It falls.

The shapes explode and strobe again. Longer this time. Less intense, or maybe I’m just used to it. But I stare. And my body feels liquid. Like bits of me are dripping off of my fingers and toes…

“Good panda,” Mason says. “Stare into the colours.”

…I like being called that…

Back to blankness and white again.

I emerge from that stupor and shake my head.

“Did you feel it that time?”

“No,” I say, firm.

“I can tell you’re not lying,” Mason says. “That’s ok. You’ll feel it soon.”

-

…Why didn’t it hurt?

It was terrifying, sure, but there was never a point where I was in pain - just discomfort from the manacles.

After each session, I’m left with a throbbing cock and a sluggish brain. Mason strokes my head with a gloved hand and kisses me on the forehead with a “Sweet dreams,” and that lets me slip off into darkness.

Sometimes I wake up in the darkness before Mason gets back. And that, honestly, feels like the worst part. Not knowing when he’ll be back, or even how much time has passed.

It’s definitely been a while. The fur of my tail has grown out quite a bit since we started. That’s my only metric - I don’t remember being fed or watered, but it must have happened somewhere down the line…

If I had sunlight, I could orient myself. But the only lights are the harsh buzzing fluorescent ones overhead, and that's only when my captor has them on. Even that's not a guarantee when he comes in. Sometimes it's just the glow of the swirling screen and its reflection in his goggles.

If I could get them off…

Not that I can.

When those spirals are pouring down over me, there’s nowhere else I can look. They grip my gaze and hold on tight.

And yet… I’m still myself. I’m still fighting it. My sense of self feels as strong as when I started. Any little breakthrough Mason makes, I’m able to reverse it and refuse to give in.

If he’s annoyed, he’s not showing it. But his patience has to wear thin eventually, and then I’ll be able to…

Something.

I don’t know.

“Tell me,” Mason whispers, his voice silk wrapped in iron. “What do you see, Cashmere?”

The monochrome oil slick twists and warbles, washed out rainbows at its edges like an old VHS. Another droplet hits my head, and the spirals pulse faster, twisting outwards towards me like grasping tendrils. My legs are up in the air in stirrups, and I can see my toes curling as pleasure pours through me.

“Spirals…” I murmur before I can stop myself. I feel the blackness collecting on my forehead.

“And how good do the spirals and the drip make you feel?”

It isn't till he says it that I feel it. They feel like a blanket. They make me forget about my bonds. They make me feel comfort in a way that I've not felt in forever.

I tell him all of this.

“It's really remarkable how detailed you are with your descriptions, Cashmere,” Mason says. “You really are good with words. It'll be a shame when that's all dissolved away.”

Fear rushes back into me and I try to pull away.

Droplets drip down onto me suddenly, like a faucet’s been turned on for a moment. It splashes my face and the ebbing spirals suddenly FLASH and quicken and my gaze snaps back onto it, and my body goes limp once again, refusing to obey me, feeling that thick treacly pleasure pooling in my forehead and seeping in.

Mason tuts. “Silly Cashmere. I bet you think you’ve got a strong will. That you’ve been holding out for a long time.” Thought you might be able to resist being broken?”

He chuckles.

“I’ve just been going easy on you. We’ve only been using about, oh, 15 percent of this device’s full power. Putting you on full blast would probably evaporate your brain completely, and we do not want that, now do we?”

I want to spit at him. I want to scream. But I just stare. The droplets keep dripping, and the shapes keep twisting me…

“Losing yourself is a frightening process. But it'll all be so worth it, when your mind is clear. When you finally understand the proper order of the world, then you'll be so much happier.

“I'm going to take off the educator hat for a second, And tell you something a little unprofessional.”

His muzzle is against my ear now, his hot wet tongue tracing along it. His gloved paw is stroking my stomach, twirling little rings around it that feel like they're trying to match the pace of the pulses.

Mason whispers down my ear. The gust of breath makes my brain bubble.

“I've masturbated every night since we started your education. Every. Night. Thinking about how beautiful your body is, bound like this. Seeing the light slowly leave those eyes. Having you as my pet. That’s why I’ve been doing this.”

His paw travels down past my navel, scoops downwards to the soft flesh of my inner thigh.

“It’s why I signed up as soon as I learned about the mind control plans. It’s why I volunteered to be an educator. Because I knew that was how I could finally make you mine, little panda. My Foxtoy.”

“Ffffffu…fuuc…”

Before I can get the ‘you’ out, the screen FLASHES. The lights strobe brighter. The spirals flow faster. My eyelids flicker and my eyes sting deliciously.

I can see a shape within them now, seeming to lift out of the screen, wreathed in black and white.

The black and white stripe slough off the fur like water. The spirals coalesce inwards around the big, black nose at the end of the snout. Twisting fractals wrap around the ears. The eyes swirl and twist.

The Fox stares down at me, and I stare back.

My mind is burning up. Hot electric fire down my spine, through my body, and just as it reaches my cock, Mason’s hand is there, gripping and stroking and squeezing.

Another droplet hits my face. The colours pulsate.

“Ffffooxtoy…!” The word explodes from my mouth, and FUCK it feels so good to say.

Mason moans into my ear. His free arm drapes over the top of my head, and I feel the hard plastic of the control device in his hand just as he strokes the dial again, and more of the black drops pour onto my face, and the spirals blast outwards, and the fox face looms and descends over me…

“Again…!” Mason hisses.

“Foxtoy…!” I can’t stop myself, it feels so good, the words I’ve been trying not to say or think about for all these long months… I’d been so afraid of them, because I was afraid of how good it would feel. That shiver of fear, stronger than before, mingling in a helix with the pleasure of those spirals, racing down to meet between my legs…

I feeel… mmmyself d-draining… down…

Like i’m F-Foxtoy….

m-my brain is meltiing down my spine, like ice cream… sweet and cool and relaxing, soothing… I’m a F..Fox…toy…!

NO. No no no nononononononono-

FLASH.

“You are a Foxtoy,” Mason growls, his body climbing onto the table so he can press himself against me, squishy warm like my head, head warmmmm making my icecream brain meltym..nnn….no…

“You are a Foxtoy!”

“I-I… ammmm a Fffoxtoyy…”

“You are a foxtoy,” growly hot foxbreath melty swirly foxface drippy… m-my thoughts… no, this is… I can’t g-give in now, I can’t, I need to tell him to stop…

“I am a Foxtoy!”

“You ARE a Foxtoy!” He’s p-pumping and humping me, foxcock bulge rubbing against my thigh, dripping and smearing all over me, f..fuck..

“I AM a Foxtoy!” My throat repeats his music, and he climbs onto me, ripping his jacket off, his body dark and framed by the spirals. He’s blocking them, I can feel my thoughts returning, but only a l-little… I’ve lost so much of myself… t-too much I don’t know if I can even h…hang on any longer… I try to breathe but I feel myself moan instead…

“You are a Foxtoy,” Mason intones. His body wriggles like a snake above me, his belly heaving and sagging with deep gulps of air. His eyes flash hungrily, dark beads in his silhouetted face. “Keep fucking saying it, Cashmere. You are a Foxtoy. It makes me so fucking ravenous to hear you say it…”

B…better to be his toy than his meal.

“I am a Foxtoy,” I whimper.

I feel… strangely clear-minded.

Like I’ve accepted my loss.

There’s a serenity to surrender. Knowing these will likely be the last conscious thoughts I have as a free being.

But I never was free, really, not until now.

I see the truth now. I see it in the spirals. I hear it in the fox’s voice.

YOU ARE A FOXTOY.

“I am a Foxtoy,” I repeat as he grinds his angry cock against mine, his knot rubbing against my shaft and my balls… it feels really nice. Almost as nice as the spirals. And his scent.

This was destiny.

My destiny was to be broken by him.

That’s the only reason I survived this long.

I know this now, looking up at him…

The spirals framing his beautiful body…

“I am a Foxtoy,” I groan again.

“It is a Foxtoy,” Master-

…It?

No, no, Not it. I am a Foxtoy, Not an It, I want to speak up…

“It is a Foxtoy,” Master - no, Mason - growls. He leans back and shifts back to grip my stirruped legs. His face dives down between them.

“So fucking tasty,” he groans, hot breath, drooling on my tailhole…

No, I don’t… don’t…

He licks, long and hard, and I feel myself melting.

IT IS A FOXTOY.

I… don’t want him to stop.

I want to just switch off.

IT IS A FOXTOY.

Let him… have me…

Use me… like a…

IT IS A FOXTOY.

Wet warm tongue laps and prods at my pucker. Droplets prod at my head. Spirals pour into my mind. Drip. Lick. Drip. Lick. Drip. Lick… He devours me…

…me feelinggg tttingly nice warm wet, hhehh…

And the spirals… spirals…

Tumble drip over me, the Fox face falls over me and rinses me away, brain all melty againn… yyyess….

“I… I… am… it is… a… ff.fffoxtoy…”

I am a…

I am…

It is…

Ssspiralsss

ffallling

over

melting

drizzle

Downnn

IT IS A FOXTOY.

downnn

i am…

it is

it is a…

i am a

IT IS A FOXTOY.

It is a foxtoy…

It is a fox toy, it is a fox toy, it is a foxtoy…

sssomething missing…?

its missing ssomething…

IT IS A FOXTOY

AND

IT OBEYS FOXES

it obeys…

the spirals…

the spirals say it

IT IS A FOXTOY

AND IT OBEYS FOXES

swirly fox spiral mouth moves, and my mouth moves with it, it dripdrooly spirals on face… and my mouth drools, its mouth drools, drips swirls, drippy thoughts go down down down into cock throbby drippy cock thoughts, memory life thoughts go down to cock, mind down, thoughts down, it is melting down

down

down

ddown…

it iss. A fox. Toy…

It is a fox toy…

And it obeys foxes…

_I ammmmmno _

IT IS A FOX TOY

it issss

AND IT OBEYS FOXES

Foxtoy wiggles butt against Foxmaster mouth, licklicklicklap throbby, hand grippy rubby rubrubrub so close so close and and it is a foxtoy and it obeys foxes it is a foxtoy and it obeys foxes it is a fox toy anditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyYYYSSSSSSFFFFFFOXXXXXXESSSSS!!!

FFf!

Fff

aaafh

fff

fffffccccummmiiinngggg!!!!!!!

Ccummming… cmmuinng… cummning…

thought

drips

drip

dripssss

lassst

thought

drips

drip

drip….

ittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeyittisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesItisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxesitisafoxtoyanditobeysfoxes

It is a Foxtoy, and it obeys Foxes!

Foxtoy’s thoughts are quiet. The mantra forms at the top of its head, then drips into the middle and spreads.

It is a Foxtoy, and it obeys Foxes!

Then it collects and pools again.

Then drops again!

It is a Foxtoy, and it obeys Foxes!

And it feels so good every single time! Being a Foxtoy feels good, and It is glad it has only ever been a Foxtoy!

Foxtoy obeys one fox in particular, the most special fox in its world! Its Foxmaster is so nice!

Its foxmaster takes it for walks on all fours and shows it off to all the other Foxes and their Foxtoys.

Foxtoy doesn’t say anything to the other Foxtoys it meets, it stands and waits quietly on its leash while its Foxmaster talks to His fellow Foxes. But it sees how blank and happy the other Foxtoys are. It knows the other Foxtoys are as drippy

Foxtoys don’t eavesdrop on the things Foxes talk about, even if Foxtoys could. A Foxtoy isn’t allowed to know the language of its superiors aside from the important words like ‘Relax’ ‘Sit’ ‘Fetch’ ‘Obey’ ‘Rub’ ‘Lick’ ‘Suck’ and ‘Come’.

Foxtoy knows all the commands by heart!

Foxtoy does like it when Foxmaster uses Foxtoy’s ugly old language, though. When Foxmaster pets its head and strokes its hair and He smiles down at it and tells it ‘how fucking cute you are, Cashmere’, but who’s Cashmere? Foxtoy doesn’t know what that is.

Foxtoy lets Foxmaster rub and tug and squeeze its tail a bunch. Sometimes Foxmaster even rubs his cock against it, and Foxtoy wraps its tail around it as best it can!

“I’m so glad your fur grew out quickly,” He says. “This tail of yours… god, it always drove me fucking feral.”

Foxmaster says such nice things. Foxtoy likes when Foxmaster speaks to it!

It sometimes wonders what Foxmaster means when He calls Foxtoy ‘Cashmere’, but it doesn’t ask Him. Foxtoy doesn’t need to ask questions. It just stands, or sits, or kneels, as Foxmaster does His work making other Foxtoys.

Sometimes those thoughts get too loud, and I nuzzle into Him to ask Him for help.

“Happening again, Cashmere? Poor thing.”

Foxmaster puts on the visor with the pretty spirals, and Foxtoy sees nothing but the pretty Foxshapes while its mouth opens and Master sticks His yummy toes or His yummy cock in there.

Foxtoy loves both! The yummy toes wiggle inside its mouth and tickle its tongue with His claws. It feels great!

But right now, it’s Foxmaster’s yummy cock in there. It smooches Foxmaster’s knot as He thrusts into its throat, and it squeezes just the way He likes it to do.

The yummy cock oozes yummy precum as Foxmaster’s soft belly pushes against the visor it wears!

“Mmmmnh, good fucking foxtoy,” Foxmaster says. “You love me, don’t you Foxtoy, you love me so much…”

Foxtoy moans and drools over Foxmaster’s yummy cock as it sucks.

Foxmaster pulls His cock out and wipes it over the top of Foxtoy’s head. He rips the visor off, and the foxshapes are gone, and Foxtoy’s eyes need to readjust to the light but then it’s just looking into Foxmaster’s pretty eyes, and His pretty smile.

It stares up at Him and wait for His next command.

“You love me. Say it.”

“It loves you!” I say.

Foxmaster licks His lips as He strokes his dripply cock.

“Now say it in Vulpine…”

As soon as Foxtoy says it, Foxmaster shoves His cock back into its mouth, and the knot goes Pop inside!

Glp…

When the Foxtoy’s mouth is full of cock, it goes extra blank, extra ready to obey.

And then there’s just the one thought again, the one that drips and swirls through its empty head, and collects at the top and drips again.

It is a Foxtoy, and it obeys Foxes!