Unattainable Lover
Typical Disclaimer
This story is a work of erotic fiction, featuring anthropomorphic (furry) characters. If that disturbs you, don't read it. Any resemblance between characters portrayed here and people or characters elsewhere is both unintentional and coincidental.
More specifically, this story was inspired by the picture [Amber in Pink](%5C), and features f-solo and m/f scenes. Dashed out in a weekend following the illustration, it may be a little rough around the edges, but I like it enough to put online anyway :)
The naturally curious may find further illustrations of characters and events herein at http://www.foxwoodstudios.co.uk, along with other stories and unrelated artwork.
If you have comments, or suggestions, by all means leave them here or email me. I don't bite unless provoked.
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Unattainable Lover
Amber purred as the other cheetah gently ran his hands down her spine, the warmth of his left palm contrasting with the coolness of the right. Not that it had to remain cool, Amber thought. That was his choice - she was as capable of installing a small heating unit into the hand as she had been of creating the entire arm that it was attached to.
Robomail.
It had been one of the only good things to come out of the war back in 2047.
Faced with dwindling fossil fuel reserves, and a fusion programme not yet off the ground, it was little surprise that the governments of the world had fought bitterly over the dwindling scraps of energy. Rapidly scaling up from 'conventional' warfare, ever more imaginative weapons of destruction has criss crossed the globe, arching high out of the atmosphere, equipped with the best evasion and countermeasures known so that there would be no doubt or warning of their arrival at the target.
Twenty years later, with the global population below two billion, sanity had finally taken hold. Technology, marching onward behind the conflict had scaled up solar, hydrogen, and fusion power until it could be delivered to the remaining cities. The bombs ceased to fall, the armies withdrew. Twenty years again, people were starting to push back into the desolated zones, the rotting hulks of cities left vacant by war.
These were violent times. The reach of law and order did not extend far into the barren places beyond the sanctuary of those towns and cities that never fell. Small wonder that people had sought out ways to better protect themselves. Originally surfacing as prostheses for crippled soldiers, robomail technology had been called upon not only to replace damaged or missing limbs and organs - but sometimes to upgrade existing ones.
From his workshop in a small village south of Berne, Switzerland, Amber's grandfather had been one of the pioneers of the technology - a fascination which he had passed on to Amber. The secret, he had shown her, was in the biomesh, the interface between the nerves and the electronics. Decades of stem cell research had provided a simple, off the shelf, though highly expensive and specialised, solution to presenting an electronic connection to biological nerves. All it needed was a week or so to grow in to the host body, some time for the engineer to work out what nerves were hooked up to which wires, and it was ready for use.
The art of the robomail engineer had thus shifted to the technology, rather than the biology. A balance of power, speed, tensile and compressive strength, computer assistance, and aesthetics - and Amber proved to be an exceptional student of all.
Now, they ran one of only five independent robomail clinics in the country - no mean feat when nearly everyone else had been bought out by the giant mutinational companies whose dominance kept the market prices high.
Sighing happily, Amber leaned down to kiss the top of her lover's head as she straddled his thighs. Sergeant Roberto Lightfoot - Robbie to his friends - smiled as he looked up at her, his handsome face lighting up with affection, an alert and attentive set to his rounded ears. Further down, sandwiched between their bodies, the tip of his erection was visible, pink contrast between white fur.
"I love you, Amber Swift," he murmured, their noses touching.
"And I love you, Robbie Lightfoot," she smiled, licking the end of his muzzle and making him laugh that wonderful laugh of his, his arms tightening around her with a soft whir of hydraulics. "Are you ready?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Well I'm ready," Amber told him softly, rising to her knees, gasping softly as he attacked her left breast with a flurry of small licks.
"Are you sure?"
Smiling, she nodded, reaching down to take a hold of his hot, pink shaft, lining him up. "I am. I love you."
Robbie's eyes shone as she began to lower herself onto him.
Somewhere outside the window, a bird was singing loudly, announcing to the world that this was its patch and nobody better come near lest all the fury of a sparrow be unleashed upon them. Amber groaned softly into the pillow, blinking in the bright sunlight that crept through a crack in the curtains.
A dream. But goodness, what a dream. Her heart rate was still elevated, the duvet bunched up between her thighs, her knees were clamped tightly together, and she could feel dampness around her crotch.
"Robbie..." she whispered into the pillow.
Robbie was no dream. Be was every bit as real as the metallic arm that swung at his side. At twenty four years old - five more than Amber - he was very charming, very intelligent, and very handsome.
They first bumped into each other outside an electronics shop - literally, as one of the servos in Amber's teetering pile of boxes tried to make an escape, sending her lurching across the pavement and slamming her shoulder into his chest.
He had laughed grimly as he levered himself back up off the floor, and told her that if she must knock over a one armed man, she could at least buy him a coffee. Embarrassed, Amber had agreed, apologising profusely as he took one of her largest boxes (one that had a handle he could grasp) and lead her down the spotlessly clean Swiss street to a small cafe, half hidden around the corner to a narrow road. It was the army, he explained over that first latte, who had sent him to Berne, on 'decision leave,' as he termed it, then laughed bitterly. The decision about whether to take a desk job, or disability pay. Great.
It was Amber who made the decision; Robbie would take neither option offered. Robbie, she decided, would be back at his old job before the year was out. She took him to her grandfather's clinic that afternoon and, while he boggled at the array of electronics and gears, measured and assessed him in impeccable detail.
Two weeks later, she had fitted him with his first robomail limb, something which the army would never have paid for, and which see only had because a client had decided he preferred a polymer construction at the last minute. There had been tears in his eyes as he embraced her that day, cold metal and warm skin against her back as he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her to his strong chest - and it was that moment that Amber realised she was in love with this handsome army sergeant.
No, the arm itself wasn't perfect, but it did the job. It functioned as well as his old arm, excepting the lack of all but basic tactile feedback, and as it turned out two months later, the army considered him healed and ready for duty.
To Amber, it had been a crowning moment - her first solo robomail job. To Robbie, it had been the restoration of his life. He loved the army, he lived the army, and he loved Amber as dearly as if she had saved him from death.
She kissed him on the train station the day he left, an act of spontaneity amid the rush of people going about their business, and the rumble and clank of the trains. Eyes closed, she didn't see the blush on his face until she stood back from him, discovering only then that instead of the joyous light she had hoped to see in his eyes, he was instead looking incredibly flustered.
"I'm sorry," she apologised, her heart sinking as the set of her ears betrayed the feeling. "You have a girlfriend, don't you?" Biting her lip, she turned away, waiting for the hammer stroke that would end her hopes.
"N-no," he stammered behind her. "But... oh, Ammy, I'm sorry, I can't. I just can't!" Reaching out, he embraced her, his lips near her ear as he explained.
Charming, intelligent, handsome... and just not into girls.
The flaw that made the masterpiece.
It shouldn't make him more attractive, yet somehow it did.
"But I do love you," he told her, standing back to look into her eyes, taking her hands in his, cool metal fingers against her left palm. "You gave me back my life, I will always love you. I'll write to you. And I'll visit, every time I'm on leave, I'll come see you, I promise."
"Promise?" Amber realised she must sound like a small girl as she looked at him through a haze of tears.
"Promise," he smiled, leaning to rest his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry, Ammy, I truly am. You're wonderful, and you deserve a wonderful man in your life, but I can't be that man."
Of course, knowing that he would never be her lover, and not wanting him to be, were quite separate things. It had proven impossible to keep him out of her fantasies and dreams, both those of day and of night.
Without really meaning to, her left hand had slid up her chest to cover her right breast, her light pink pyjama shirt flapping open to expose her fur to the air.
What a dream.
There were tingles across her body, and the light touch of her own fingers against her chest was doing little to satiate the feeling inside. Biting her lip, trembling a little, she let her right hand wander across her softly furred stomach, slipping down beneath the loose waistband of her pants.
"Mmm..."
Pink finger pads met pinker skin between her legs. Oh lord that dream had worked her up. Her hips hunched forwards against her hand as her fingers ran over her warm folds.
It was wrong, she knew it was, to fantasise about a man she could never have, a man who would never love her back in the way she wanted. Whatever would he think if he found out?
They had, by mail and email, discussed matters of who they were interested in, as very close friends tend to. Over the course of several weeks, he had given her a detailed account of his flirtation and relationship with Andre, a wolf who worked at the entertainment centre where Robbie was stationed. Andre, whose photo said he was slender and handsome, while his description added a quick wit with a spark of mischief and a love of surfing, was someone that they both agreed Robbie should follow up on.
And so he had, and a round of drinks lead to a cinema trip, lead to surfing on a French beach, lead to... well, everything that it could, really. Amber wasn't sure they were 'together' as such, but it looked like they were always aware and interested in the other's presence - and Robbie furnished her with every little detail, just as she asked him to.
Andre, apparently, thought it was funny that she was interested, but didn't really mind.
"If it turns ze girl on," he had said (Robbie always wrote the French accent into Andre's quotes), "Then by all means tell 'er 'ow good I am in bed."
And there he had rather hit the nail on the head. There was a spark of excitement about sharing the tales of Robbie's love life, even if she wasn't a part of it. It made her feel... included. Accepted.
And in all honesty, it did rather turn her on - though whether that was because it was Robbie who was involved, or Robbie who was writing it, she wasn't totally sure. In any case, the message was clear; he trusted her, and he thought that it was ok for her to know about everything he did.
It was like he were giving her permission to fantasise about him.
Oh lord, that was sexy! Her left hand tugged at her pink nipple as her fingers ran over the fur between her legs, running up one side of her soft folds, down the other, not quite touching herself where she most wanted to.
Recalling more of the letters, Amber envisioned a warm hotel room. An evening pass allowed a few hours of privacy away from the barracks, and such a thing was never to be wasted.
She could imagine them together, doing that cute little nose-on-nose nuzzle that quickly descended into kisses and touches. How Andre's hands investigated Robbie's muscular chest - Amber was quite familiar with it, having fitted his robomail - ran down towards his navel, tugged at his shorts.
Amber had never taken off anyone's shorts, other than her own, but the Internet had provided her with more than enough information on the subject. Would he be erect already? No, he wasn't that excitable, she decided. Maybe just a touch of pink showing at the top of his soft, furry sheath. She imagined herself in Andre's place, her hand hovering over that pinkness, feeling the heat but never quite making contact while she searched Robbie's face for the permission she knew was already given.
Amber's hips shifted, her knees parting as she kicked the duvet down the bed. One knee raised near vertical, the other flat to the sheets as she gave in to the feeling of need. Her hand cupped between her legs, middle and third fingers curling up into her body as she purred.
She knelt as Andre had, gazing up at Robbie from between his knees, hands reaching around to the cheetah's plush buttocks. Look at that expression on his face! The one that said he knew exactly what was about to happen, and was begging for it to start. Amber groaned softly, fingers parting inside her, pushing out against the slick pressure of her insides.
Soft, warm tongue, lapping over that touch of pink, gentle yet insistent as the cheetah's shaft grew erect under the attention, standing six - no, seven, Amber decided, although he had never actually mentioned dimensions - inches at its fullest.
Seven inches of pink, hard, hot cheetah arousal.
She sank onto it until her nose rubbed his fur, feeling him pressing at the back of her throat but - imagining herself like Andre - she was quite accustomed to such, and neither gagged nor pulled away. Looking up along his body, she met his gaze as his hand landed between her ears, rubbing her gently, massaging her softly.
A soft moan escaped Amber's lips as she pulled her fingers back, pressing firmly at the top of her entrance, right on that little button of pleasure as she teased Robbie's shaft, his hips hunching into her motions, little flickers of pleasure stealing across his smiling face.
What she wouldn't have given to have really been the cause of those flickers.
Robbie was panting softly, his stomach muscles tensing as he was tended to so intimately. One hand found her shoulder, gripping tight in warning, and she pulled back to smile.
"Been a while, 'as it, my Robocat?" she purred in a soft French accent.
The cheetah simply nodded, a hint of a blush under his fur.
"Zat's ok," she wrinkled her nose cutely. "Let it 'appen."
Amber's fingers moved faster as she took a long, slow lick from the back of Robbie's sheath to the tip of his erection before slipping her muzzle all the way down again. She could see in his eyes that he was close, that he needed to climax, and he needed it soon.
Her fingers pushed up between her legs again, imagining for a moment that it was he that were inside her - but knowing that it wouldn't happen. Better that she be content knowing that he was willing to share such memories with her, that she take pleasure from his experiences in the only way he was comfortable with.
Robbie's hands clenched in the bedsheets under him as her finger pads pressed hard up against the front of her tunnel.
She was going to be wet.
She could feel it, that pressure almost like needing to pee, but not quite. She hated it when that happened - not through any feeling that it was terribly wrong for a girl to squirt a little, the internet had also taught her that that was quite normal - just that she disliked the mess that followed. Still, it wasn't every time, maybe once every two dozen climaxes, and there was little to do but accept it.
Jamming her fingers hard against the top of her entrance, she climaxed at the same time Robbie did, her expression mirroring his, eyes closed, mouth half open. Somewhere amid the waves of pleasure, she felt her control go, each little surge of wetness seeming to coincide with Robbie's own as she held on to the image in her head, his shaft pulsing in her mouth as she worked him expertly.
Amber purred as relaxation stole through her body, feeling light headed and realising she'd been holding her breath. She rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling, her hand withdrawing from her pants to grope down beside the bed for the towel she kept there - basic hygiene and all that. Hand dried, she pulled the towel up onto the mattress with her, and sat up.
Should've taken her pants off, she decided as she looked down at herself. Yuck.
Manoeuvring the towel underneath her bottom, she carefully tugged the pink garment off. Ok, maybe not too bad. Bit of a wet patch, but nothing monstrous. She wasn't really that messy most times, probably no more so than the average male would have been, for which she was grateful - but it just wasn't nice to have it all soaking into her fur. Balling the soft cotton, she dropped it down the side of the bed, to be put in the washing machine later.
It was only as she padded the towel between her legs that she noticed what should have been a conspicuous package at the end of her bed.
Birthday, she remembered suddenly. Which meant that at some point during the night, Goldmay had dutifully and traditionally snuck into her room to deposit this present while she slept. Amber felt herself blush, and hoped that it had been well before the dream about Robbie. The last thing she needed was to discover she had been caught in the middle of an erotic dream by her best friend and housemate, especially as the lioness was as much into girls as Robbie was into boys.
Not that Amber felt concerned about this. Indeed, Goldmay usually referred to her as 'little sister,' out of deference to the nature of their relationship - although she had on a couple of occasions made it quite plain that should Amber find herself in the mood for female company, the lioness would be at her side (and in her bed) in a heartbeat.
Picking up the carefully wrapped parcel, Amber gave it a feel. Eight inches, by four, by four, or thereabouts. It would be something mechanical, some little piece of technology - that was tradition. Nine years ago, Amber had assisted her grandfather with the operation that restored her best friend to health. The truck, skidding out of control and piling into Goldmay's parents' car, had cost the lioness her left arm and leg - and both her parents' lives.
Amber had sworn to her, on the day she regained consciousness, that she would walk again.
And she had. Nine years ago, on this day, Amber had gifted Goldmay with the technology that seemed to form so naturally under her deft fingers - and ever since, the lioness had gifted her with some (usually silly) gadget in return.
'Now don't freak out, little sister,' the label said, which immediately aroused suspicion. 'I know this is as close as I'll get to sharing your bed - and you know it's as close as you'll get to that faggy little beau of yours! Just trust me and have fun, and later today you can tell me how much you love me.'
The box beneath the paper was plain, and brown, and inside...
Seven inches by one and a half, slightly flexible, rounded at one end, some switches at the other, and with a note that said, 'Not all prosthetics need biomesh to work. Enjoy!'
Amber went red as she looked at it, holding it in her hand, fingers closing around it. There were three buttons on the flat end, and she pressed the one with a single dot over it, causing the little device to buzz softly in her palm. Buttons two and three amped up the buzzing to the point it became difficult to hold and made her fingers tingle.
It also seemed to be emitting an unaccountable smell of chocolate, Amber's greatest weakness.
"You fiendish lioness," she giggled, and then gasped as she found her free hand was cupped between her legs. She had no memory of having decided to do that, and pulled away instinctively. Surely she wasn't going to...
The smell shifted, became strawberries, fresh bread, daffodils, and then chocolate again.
Ok, what the hell. After all, here she was, somewhat in the mood anyway...
Giggling again, the cheetah gripped the little instrument by the base and brought the trembling tip into contact with the top of her thigh. Little, tingly vibrations stole across her and she smiled.
There was an instruction booklet in the box, which she glanced at (just in case she had the wrong idea of the gadget's function). She didn't, but it did suggest a few other ideas to her.
Still sitting upright on the bed, the cheetah touched the tip lightly to the pad of her left foot... and burst into giggles. Goodness that was tickly! The back of her knee, a powerful sensation but not quite as unbearable. Under her armpit. Eee!
Squirming, she fell flat on her back, fighting laughter. Oh lord that tickled, but it felt good, too, although whether that was anything to do with what she had been up to earlier or would have done so anyway, she wasn't sure. It didn't matter - the mood was well and truly back now, and Goldmay had provided an intriguing way of satisfying it.
The smell was strawberries again as she rolled the device against her breast. It was almost too intense as she passed over her pink nipple, hard and tingling under the contact as her back arched, pressing her head deep into her pillow. Her other hand seemed to be heading between her legs again, and she stopped it, reaching back under her bottom to grasp her tail. It was a little damp at the base, so she stroked along the length of it, pulling warm fur up between her legs, letting out a small involuntary noise and quickly stifling it.
"All right, all right, I'm ready, I admit it," she whispered to herself, guiding the buzzing little device down her body. She turned it so that all she could see was the flat end, pushing the tip along ahead of the movement down her tummy. When it contacted bare skin, she almost hit the ceiling.
Instantly upright again, she peered down at the device, buzzing away on the bed where she had dropped it. That was, she decided, seriously intense. She flicked the switch, and it became still. That she could handle - just the contact, none of the vibration. Just... let it sit for a moment.
Unbidden, an image of Goldmay came into her head, her nose right where she was holding the gadget, and she blushed. Not that it would be a disservice to the lioness to imagine her so, but it certainly wasn't the image Amber wanted right now! Robbie, she adjusted her thoughts, trying to recall deeper back into the dream she had woken from. Had he done such a thing there?
It wasn't important, he was doing it now, his soft, pink tongue pressing up against the top of her entrance, making her shiver. He purred as she thumbed the switch, and she moaned softly. Lick after lick he lavished upon her, the buzzing sensation of his purr spreading warmth throughout her body. She felt close already.
"Wait..."
Eyes closed, Amber adjusted herself, sitting, kneeling astride his toned thighs, looking down into his face as the tip of his arousal pressed against her stomach.
"I love you, Amber Swift," he murmured, their noses touching.
"And I love you, Robbie Lightfoot," she smiled, licking the end of his muzzle and making him laugh that wonderful laugh of his, his arms tightening around her with a soft whir of hydraulics. "Are you ready?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"Well I'm ready," Amber told him softly, rising to her knees, gasping softly as he attacked her left breast with a flurry of small licks.
"Are you sure?"
Smiling, she nodded, reaching down to take a hold of his hot, pink shaft, lining him up. "I am. I love you."
Robbie's eyes shone as she began to lower herself onto him. She felt herself parting around him, her body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation quite unlike anything her own fingers had provided.
He purred, the sensation transmitting itself deep inside her and she shivered. His hands rubbed the base of her tail and she arched her back, pressing her chest against him, that long, fluffy appendage flagging high behind her.
Tightening her legs, she bounced a little in his lap, and they both gasped, his chin pressing down against her left shoulder, her lips by his ear.
Each motion seemed to bring him deeper inside her, the tip of his shaft pushing at her insides, sensations higher than she had ever known.
"You're so beautiful. I'd never imagined a woman could be so wonderful. Thank you."
Amber blushed, hugging him tightly as her hips thrust into his lap.
"Robbie... I'm gonna..." she whispered, clinging to him.
"Let it happen, Ammy."
He purred again, and she felt her pleasure blossom inside her. Holding him tight in her arms, his hands on her buttocks, Amber threw herself down into his lap, feeling him purring, the trembling sensation dragging her climax on and on...
"Oh..." she slumped forward, his shaft still embedded between her hips, his arms about her. "Wow..."
"That was amazing," Robbie told her, and she pulled back enough to look into his eyes.
"Aren't I supposed to say that?"
"You can if you like," he smiled.
"That was amazing!" she said.
"Good," he nuzzled under her chin and she tilted her head back as he lapped softly at her fur there, tugging lightly at it with his lips.
"We need to do something for you," she whispered as his hand lifted to caress her breast.
"Nah, that's ok," he shook his head.
Amber laughed, and nipped his ear between finger and thumb. "I'll put it another way," she whispered into it. "I'm not done with you yet."
"Well in that case," he murmured, his hands behind her back as he tilted her until she lay under him, her legs wrapped around his hips. "Maybe we can find something that will suit, hmm?"
"Mmm," she sighed in agreement, toes curling as he pushed forwards, filling her deeply. His hands gripped the pillow either side of her head, the soft, mechanical noise of his robomail in her left ear. Rocking her hips up to meet his thrusts, she brought her tail up between his legs as one hand found it's way down to his bottom, fingers lightly probing, and he stiffened.
"Ok?" she murmured, and he chuckled.
"Only for you, Ammy."
"What? You can't tell me you never lifted your tail for anyone else, surely?"
"'Fraid not," he said quietly. "I'd no more lift my tail than you would."
"I'd lift mine, if you asked me," Amber told him, blushing as she realised the truth of the statement.
"And I mine, if you asked," he told her, nuzzling at her cheek. "But never for anyone else. Not once."
"How can you be gay if you won't lift tail?" she asked, hugging him, withdrawing her hand to the small of his back.
"You learn to suck a golf ball through a hose pipe."
Amber laughed, swatting his bottom.
"Hey," he chuckled. "I don't take paddlings neither!"
"Oh? What do you take?"
"The most beautiful woman on the planet," he answered, with sincerity, gazing at her fondly.
Amber blushed and hugged him harder, her breasts rolling against his chest as they moved together. She was panting now, the unrelenting intrusion and withdrawal working on her senses. His strong, mechanical right arm lifted her left leg up to her chest, pinning it between them and twisting her hips up towards him.
"Robbie... close..."
"Me too," he told her softly, nuzzling at her neck. "Is it ok?"
She nodded, pressing her nose against his forehead. Of course, she had been taking pills since she knew she wanted to be with him. She had wanted nothing to come between them.
And nothing was. As she felt the first trembles of her climax surge within her, his hips ground up against hers, his tip deeper within her than she knew she could feel. He called her name as she called his, his lips finding hers, kissing her, leaving her panting through her nose as their shared climax washed through them.
Amber opened her eyes. The sunlight was very bright, and hitting her right in the face. Blinking, she took several deep, steadying breaths before removing the little device from her body, feeling slightly regretful as that full sensation disappeared.
"Wow," she whispered, one hand behind her head.
Wow indeed. Amber couldn't remember ever having been so absorbed in a fantasy - nor having continued to two climaxes in a row without a break.
That was definitely something she'd be using more regularly, she decided, drying the marvellous gadget on a corner of the towel before setting it on a corner of the bed. Stretching, yawning, she propped herself up on her elbows to survey the results.
Dishevelled, but satisfied.
Very, very satisfied.
It may not have been Robbie, but she knew he would understand her feelings, and wouldn't mind her actions. Maybe one day, she thought. One day, if he trusted her enough, he would let her show him that females were no bad thing.
Or maybe not. Only time would tell, and right now, it was time for a shower, she decided. Grabbing her bath sheet, she wound it around her waist, buttoned her pyjama top, and located a pile of clothes that contained some socks and panties.
"Good morning, little sister!" Goldmay's voice came to her as she opened her bedroom door. "Breakfast in ten minutes."
"Right!" Amber called down the stairs, hoping that the lioness wasn't going to come up to see her. She didn't, and Amber closed the bathroom door hastily. Privacy fell around her again.
Showering quickly, she returned to her room, donned clean pants and blouse, then padded downstairs, finding the lioness in the kitchen. The taller feline hesitated, half turning her head, then smiled and flipped a fried egg.
"Feeling a little hot and sweaty this morning, little sister?" she chuckled. "Oh don't blush you silly thing," she added, turning and walking over to embrace the cheetah, her left and right footsteps having a distinctly different sound on the wooden floor, a faint hum of hydraulics behind her trouser leg. "I'm just sorry I can't give you what you really want, but I don't think he's for sale, and certainly not to me or you. Consider this a stop-gap until we can find someone decent for you to crush on, some guy who deserves the attention of a hot young thing like you, eh?"
Amber grinned around her blush, hugging the lioness tightly. No, she didn't have Robbie, and probably never would... but she did have a good friend to confide in and lean on.
She rested her head on Goldmay's furry right shoulder. "I love you, big sister."
The lioness simply chuckled. "Thought so."