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When Olivia awoke, it was in pitch darkness. The heavy blinds she had ordered certainly did the trick. Slowly, carefully she pulled back the covers, sliding them gently down the rise of her pale-furred chest. The jackal laying beside her stirred slightly, and she paused with the split valley of her toned stomach exposed to the cool air of their shared bedroom. No need to wake him just yet. With a gentle turn, the blue vixen draped her legs off the edge of the bed and a gradual push brought her paws to the wood floor. Soft clicks marked her slinking gait to the bathroom as her claws brushed along, and the vixen waited until the door slid closed until one of her paws pressed the light switch. Olivia's eyes clenched slightly as the room was illuminated, and what greeted her when they finally adjusted was an absolutely stunning blue vixen -- if she did say so, herself. Perky, round, perfect breasts with just the right amount of plump, covered in short pale-blue fur that darkened to the deeper shade as it stretched around under her armpit; the same that spilled down her tummy, between her legs, and bled out in to her thighs before blending with her signature azure hue. She always kept her bodyfur short, perfectly contoured to every curve, to highlight a figure paid for in zealous exertion; 'And worth every penny,' she thought to herself, tongue sticking slightly out the front of her muzzle while she oogled herself in the mirror. A slight turn and bend of her waist, along with a raise of her bushy tail, brought her ass in to relief; so full and sweet. The monthly trimmings were expensive, but it would be a costly sin indeed to leave such a perfect body covered under drab shag.

After her teeth were brushed and a fresh pair of panties slid up her thighs, Olivia dropped a loose-fitting tank top over her head and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Familiar scenes passed her as she walked the hall. The first depicted a male red fox in green cargo pants standing atop a pile of rubble, his tattered jacket open to expose the rise of his abdominals and a strapping chest that peeked out slightly from under a deep red bandana tied around his neck. Fitted to his head was some sort of communicator that wrapped around the side of his muzzle and ended in a sort of tiny microphone, and the dashing figure looked to a star-filled sky that hung over the jungle clearing in which he stood, blaster pistol at the ready. Red, glowing eyes harbored themselves in the overgrowth. There on her knees, clinging to one of his worn boots, was a lovely blue vixen that eyed the direction of the viewer with a look of distress. A tight reed bra molded itself perfectly to the shape of her chest, and a modest drape of bright cloth hung around her waist. Centered below the pair at the bottom of the poster was a sharp font that read, 'STARFOX ADVENTURES.' The last poster she passed was of a bright, blue sky with a number of angular ships sailing through the white clouds.

Cooking had never been her strong suit. When steady work had become a trickle, Harold -- her manager -- had suggested a cooking show. 'It's the safest bet!' the badger proclaimed. 'A pretty face showing you how to make delicious treats, it's a killer combo.' Olivia shot the idea down without hesitation. Too out-of-her-purview, and too boring. It took her a few tries to successfully crack the egg she clutched in her paw, and it dripped in to the skillet with a firm sizzle, making itself cozy against the isopod sausages that waited to be turned. Fashion, on the other hand, was something she could muster at least some passion for. Harold made the offers to the big-name manufacturers on her behalf, though he took some convincing. An oversaturated market, he said. It will never take off, he said. You need to invest wisely, he said, or the money would quickly disappear like an ice cube in hell. She would show him who had the better vision on this one. Production had started, and her fashion line was scheduled for a summer release. Olivia Jordan would be a name known for more than just a trilogy of cheesy scifi flicks and bit parts. Roused and led by his nostrils, the jackal stepped out on to the kitchen tile.

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Yes, it is."

Her eyes wandered over his muscular body. Beefy was a word she would use, and it certainly applied to her jackal. Rich strength poured in to a delicious canine shell, russet fur stretched tight over sinew. A rippling back that lay under a steely gray mantle.

"Breakfast is nearly ready."

As he drew close, the jackal wrapped one thick arm around the vixen's waist and pulled her against him, and his lips pressed in to the side of her muzzle.

"Smells delicious."

"Uh huh."

"It does! I think you're a better cook than you give yourself credit for."

"It's eggs and sausage. Kinda hard to mess up something as simple as eggs and sausage."

"It really isn't," the jackal responded through a chuckle.

Olivia strode to the dining table and deposited the skillet's contents on to the jackal's plate, and he looked up at her with a tender smile before digging in. After depositing his utensils in the sink and a quick return to the bedroom to finish getting dressed, he embraced his lovely blue vixen by the front door. As usual, he was in no hurry to leave. With her taste fresh on his tongue, their lips part and his claw grips the door handle.

"See you tonight."

"Be safe and have a good day," came her reply as she waved goodbye.

Now her day would begin proper. The first thing on her schedule was always the same. A run on the treadmill followed by at least a half-hour on the lat pull, a set on the leg extension, the hammer strength, the extended weight bench that could double as a squat rack... Having a gym fanatic for a boyfriend certainly had benefits beyond the obvious. With a push of the remote, the house sound system springs to life with something up-beat and jazzy; synths with crisp saw waves stabbing luscious extended chords over a subby kick and tight snare. The vixen's exquisite body moves with the rhythm, muscles tensing under trim blue fur. A sports bra keeps her from jiggling all over the place as her legs pump, feetpaws slapping against the belt of the treadmill, her heart-shaped rear swaying side to side. There was no stopping until she was a panting mess, followed by a short rest and drink of cold water before the next regimen. It was hard work, being that drop-dead stunning, but Olivia didn't think she could live with herself any other way. By the time she was finished, every part of her ached. It was time for a break.

The vixen settled in to her lounging chair as she set a small glass of red wine on the table beside her. Once upon a time she remembered her mother's observations on females who drank before noon; but for this sort of work, a little lubrication could only help her along. She pulled her laptop to her, flipped the lid and sought out the little icon on her desktop labeled 'BFSB.' After the word processor had loaded, the first page displayed a centered title.

'Blue-Furred She-Beast: Memoirs of Olivia Jordan.'

Another of her clever ideas. Why not write a book? She had to give her fans at least one thing, they were certainly loyal. There were, of course, a cadre of other less-flattering descriptions she could attach to them -- and had, not even twenty-four hours prior when another hefty stack of tedious fan letters had been sat on her kitchen table, an aggravating amount addressed to 'Krystal' or packages whose mystery contents she felt something akin to dread at the prospect of revealing-- but they were enough to practically guarantee any book deal she could wish to make. Her clawed fingers began to move across the keys.

'One advantage was certainly the small amount of time spent in make-up. A little cream applied to matt my fur in the right spots, a little dirt, one skimpy bra and a few accessories. The little swirly sun they would have to paint on the side of my rump probably took longer than anything else! One day while I was dozing in the chair, Ricardo had snuck in and painted a little arrow above it pointing back at my tail with the words 'REAR HANGAR' nearby. I was certainly wondering why the cast and crew were snickering so much on set that day!'

Ricardo Monteblanc, or as he was better known, Fox McCloud. Nice guy. Extremely gay; which was a shame, she had thought, because he was such a treat for the eyes. They kept in touch after the movies stopped, talked occasionally. A male of refinement, he would always invite her and Charles out to dinner whenever he was in town. His boyfriend was a cute little skunk, scrawny but fair. As she continued filling her pages with little anecdotes from behind the scenes, her mind wandered to some of the other cast members whom had performed with her on that, her first big break; the genesis of her spot in the public eye. Well, one much more so than the others. Serin Vahn, the wall of scaly muscle that had portrayed the wicked General Scales. Olivia had been on set for some time before she finally had her first scenes with him, which were in fact the first of the movie. Another production was wrapping up in the lot they needed for the scenes, so there was nearly a week wait before they could even get in front of the camera together. Olivia had caught his eye instantly. How could she not, the vixen thought to herself as a wide grin spread across her muzzle. He had certainly caught her own. So tall, so built. A body like a smooth, green god. They chatted idly during the week. Hobbies, hopes for the future. Later on, after she had commented on his physique, he coolly asked her if she would like to come back to his trailer and get a private showing. The curvy blue vixen trailed after him without a second thought.

They had been instructed to remain in costume in case they might be able to sneak in a little time on the set. Serin began to peel himself out of the leather top and spiked shoulder pads, lifting it over his head teasingly slow while Olivia sat on the bed in her prehistoric-vixen outfit, one leg draped over the other. She was not disappointed in the slightest. Just the sight of his bulging chest made a little tingle run between her thighs, and Serin delighted in posing for her. No nipples adorned his swollen pecs, only smooth layer upon layer of spotted-green scales that fell down his burly stomach and disappeared from view under the belt at his waist; Olivia had no idea why that made her body feel suddenly flush. Reptilians always felt a little exotic to her, and knowing she was about to be bedded by such an exquisite specimen filled her with a flash of elation that quickly spread through, raising her temperature as it went until the vixen felt herself at a low simmer.

"Your turn, girl," the male almost commanded in a voice that seemed to her as smooth and weighty as the rest of him.

For a moment, she froze. It took a good deal of control to keep her whole body from shaking as the blue vixen stood from the bed and reached behind her to unhook the catch of her bra. Serin watched her with unfaltering eyes, powerful arms crossed under his chest. The way he took her in, standing before the vixen so expectantly like a mighty lord, it was almost too much. Something like a tiny squeak slipped from her throat as the reed fell away, practically fumbled from uncontrolled fingers, and dropped to the trailer floor. Among the vast ocean of things she was currently feeling, confidence wasn't among them; she couldn't manage much of a teasing display of her own. Instead the smaller blue vixen let one arm hang at her side, the other curving behind her back to grip the forearm. He was so overwhelming. Normally she would find herself much more assertive, but there in the little trailer, this hulking lizard made her feel rather small; and to her surprise, she loved that.

The seconds it must have took for Serin to pad his way up to her were agonizingly drawn-out to the smaller blue vixen. Thick, powerful arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and Olivia was gone. The vixen's mind melted in to a warm puddle, along with everything else. He had to lift her a few inches off the floor to bring her chest close enough to his maw to lick, and she quivered as his tongue lashed itself across one of the dark pink nubs that poked out from underneath the creamy fur of her chest. Paws rested themselves against either side of the reptilian chest, clawed fingers spread wide as her back arched. They quickly contracted, digging in to the scales when his jaws parted and then closed around her nipple.

"Ooo..."

There was nothing Olivia could do to stop the soft moan from escaping the moment Serin begin to suckle at her. She clung to him, one arm slung around his neck as he began to lower her to the floor. In order to stand up again, he had to pull her grip free. Olivia might as well have been standing at the foot of a skyscraper, looking up with mouth agape.

"Go on," he cooed down to her, "take a look."

Slowly Olivia's eyes fell. Past that perfect chest, across the valleys and hills of his stomach, down to a point still covered by his costume's kilt. She could smell him now; the twinge of male reptilian in the still air. So this is what they smell like, she thought with a slight glaze of fascination. It was so different than any mammal, less thick and more crisp. There was still a pungent nature to him, one that she was sure would only grow as she uncovered what waited for her beneath the faux leather. Neither of them had a chance to bathe that day, and the sun beat down on the studio. Olivia wondered if the reptile male could all ready smell how excited she had become even from that distance, the mixture of need and grit that clung to her fur. It took longer than it should have to unbuckle him and let the last of his costume drop, her fingers could barely cooperate. What was revealed made the blue vixen's eyes go wide. There were no balls, only a slick-looking vent that had parted and out of which drooped a long, thick, light-pink reptile cock. She had seen pictures, of course. More than a few. The tapered head and smooth glistening shaft was instantly familiar. A strange mix of excitement and dismay spread through her body as she had now discovered everything about Serin was big.

"Give it a kiss, mammal. Be polite."

With a slight parting of her muzzle, her tongue slowly extended. Serin allowed her to take her time, arms back across his hulking chest as he stared down at her. A few moments after her tongue had made contact with his length, her lips pressed forward to follow suit, and Olivia obediently did as instructed. Then again, and again. The vixen kissed and licked her way from his shaft to his base, scrutinizing this new, unfamiliar flavor. Reptilians, she discovered, have a stronger taste than smell. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it certainly was somewhat rugged and tenacious; by the time the vixen had worked her way back to his tip, he was all she could taste. Serin began to swell against her lips, and after each gentle throb that straightened his length, Olivia silently wondered if there would be another. There was another squeak from the vixen as a shadow fell over her and she suddenly felt claws gripping at her rump to lift her off the floor. A gentle throw from her dominant reptilian sprawled her on her back across the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. There were no more words from Serin.

Roughly, the cloth at her waist was tugged down her thighs, and Olivia bit her lip as she was left exposed to him. Those firm, clawed hands spread her with an absolute ease as Serin took his position between her thighs. He gave her a few moments to think about it as he lined himself up with her mammalian cunny. Those eyes were so hungry, and Olivia felt herself devoured. As he began to press forward and part her, she was sure her claws had ruined the sheets, they had dug in and tugged so hard. This male was certainly the largest of anything she had ever taken, living or silicone. There was a fullness that bordered on painful; it made her mouth fall open and her eyes clench. Serin, in his wicked, meticulous malevolence now took his own time as one inch after another disappeared in the shivering vixen. There were only moans and small squeals from Olivia. The reptilian male allowed her a chance to acclimate after the lips of his vent pressed against her entrance. Chest heaving, Olivia broke away from his intense gaze to look down. There was a small, ever-so-subtle bulge that rose under her pubis where her insides had been made to stretch around thick reptile meat. When Serin began to rock back and forth, Olivia couldn't breathe.

The poor vixen imagined she was deflating every time he withdrew, only to be blown up nearly to bursting again every time his hips moved forward. It was handful of minutes before she came, a tremor running through her legs, held quite firmly in the imposing reptile's grip. Serin seemed to delight in her loud yelps and grunts, only fueling him to pump in to her so much faster and spread more of her leaking mess down those pale-blue thighs. Soon his thrusts became intermittent, stabbing, and with a solitary grunt the reptile held while he emptied himself in to her womb. Those moments were something Olivia would never forget. Panting, exhausted, she lay with one paw resting on her stomach, Serin still inside her. As the here-and-now began to reform around her, she realized that she had stopped typing quite some time ago.

After Adventures wrapped, they never spoke again. Never saw each other.Olivia closed the laptop and sat it aside. As she made her way to the bedroom to find her little helper, tucked away in the nightstand, she peeled the damp yoga pants from her waist. That was one story that probably shouldn't make it in to the book.