FOXTOY 0 [Preview, Subscribestar Exclusive]
The Foxtoy is fixed.
_This is a follow-up to FOXTOY, which I would recommend you read first.
This 5,900 word story is exclusive to my Subscribers ; to read it in full, head over to https://subscribestar.adult/limewah !_
FOXTOY 0 (within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0 within 0) By Limewah Inspired by Summer Vixen, featuring her sona 18+ Preview
“FoxOfficer Mason, this is… I mean, this really is not okay. This is not acceptable treatment of a Foxtoy at all.”
“With all due Respect, FoxCouncillor, I believe it’s my right as a Fox to do whatever I want with Cashmere - sorry, my Foxtoy. It is my property.”
“It might be your property, but it is still a living thing. And its mind is fragile enough without you referring to it with its name.”
“I know the risks, and I’ve taken every precaution necessary. You know I’ve been nothing but disciplined in my education and recruitment work; I know better than anyone else how to keep the Foxtoy conditioning intact without causing them to go the wrong kind of crazy.”
“...May I speak frankly, FoxOfficer?”
“It doesn’t matter what my answer is, does it FoxCouncillor?”
“No it does not. I didn’t want to believe you were being this careless. Especially with your record. I’m shocked and more than a little disappointed. If we give the Foxtoys any little opportunity to remember what they were before their education, it could cause irreversible brain damage - or, worse, make them forget their place and plant the seeds for an uprising. It’s deeply unethical no matter what angle you look at it; not to mention cruel.”
“Again, I-”
“Quiet, FoxOfficer.”
“Rrgh.”
“Furthermore…”
-
It is a Foxtoy, and it obeys Foxes!
It sits politely and quietly as the two Foxes talk over it.
One of the Foxes is Foxmaster - the Fox who owns this Foxtoy! The one with the pudgy face and the yummy paws and cock!
There’s a weird look on his face, though… he looks sad, or annoyed, and Foxtoy doesn’t know why. It wants to stand up and give its Foxmaster a hug, but it’s been told to stay completely still by the other Fox!
The other Fox is very pretty. She is about the same height as Foxtoy, so she looms over Foxmaster. Foxlady is dressed in shiny black clothes too, the way Foxmaster sometimes does when he’s talking to other Foxes or making Foxtoys or teaching other Foxes things.
-
“...regardless of my personal opinions on the matter... In recognition of your service to New Vulpes, we will be letting you off with a non-binding reprimand.”
“Thank you, FoxCouncillor-”
“However. I am taking it upon myself to confiscate this Foxtoy. I will repair and refurbish it personally. You will be assigned with a new one, randomly selected from our pool of unassigned Foxtoys.”
“...Will I get them back?”
“It.”
“It. Will I get it back?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“...What’s with that smile. You’d better not-”
“We can re-evaluate ownership later if you keep your nose clean, Foxfriend. Good day. Come, Foxtoy. Override : Vulpes Summer Vixen.”
Vulpes Summer Vixen.
Those were the first words Foxtoy understands from the conversation!
Foxtoy never heard those words together before, but it knows those words somehow! It now knows Foxlady’s voice and it must obey Foxlady above all others! Foxmaster is not as important as Vulpes Summer Vixen. Foxlady is somehow more Fox than Foxmaster, she has more _Fox-_ness about her even though they’re both fully foxes…
Foxtoy does not need to worry about how that works. All Foxtoy knows is it must obey Foxlady over Foxmaster!
It forgets the name and only sees Foxlady as Foxmistress! There may be other names in Foxtoy’s brain that would override its obedience to Foxmistress, but for now it will only obey Foxmistress!
Foxtoy follows Foxmistress out!
Foxtoy hears the Fox behind it breathing really heavy… He sounds angry.
“C-ashm… Foxtoy! Wait!”
Foxtoy ignores the other Fox, it must only obey and follow Foxmistress!
It is a Foxtoy and it obeys Foxmistress!
It follows Foxmistress into Her car and sits quietly with Her in the backseat!
It is a Foxtoy and it obeys Foxmistress!
It waits for Her to lead it out and into a big building with fox words on it!
It is a Foxtoy and it obeys Foxmistress!
It goes into the dark room and sits and waits for Her to return!
It is a Foxtoy and it…
It obeys…
…wait…
Where is…
Where…
Am I…?
Oh, oh fuck.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…
I’m conscious again.
I’m… who am I?
C..cas…hmere.
Cashmere.
Cashmere.
That’s my name.
It doesn’t feel right at first. But each time I repeat it in my head I feel it clarifying and sharpening, like I’m calling a lost child towards me with my voice.
And with it, I feel other things returning to me. Memories.
Only very recent ones. But they’re vivid enough for me to get my head back in gear, to remind myself where I am.
I’m still in New Vulpes.
I can’t even remember what the name of this place was before the foxes took over and chiseled it into a city-state where they rule supreme, and everyone else…
I feel a drip of black in the white spaces of my mind. The black ripples outwards, lines and shapes, the curvature of pointed ears and a long snout…
That image’s seared into my brain. It might never leave me.
Yes. I remember who put it here.
I was going to try to escape, with the help of who I assumed was another hold-out like me. It turned out that person was an old friend of mine…
FoxMast- no. Mason. Mason. Fucking Mason.
All that time he’d been waiting for the chance to take control of me and…
Fuck.
Is it worse not knowing what he did to me while I’ve been in that brainwashed state? I might be able to grapple with it a bit more…
And yet, this doesn’t feel…
This doesn’t feel like the first time I’ve been lucid. Like I’ve been brought out of this before.
“Show me those pretty eyes, Cashmere…”
“I wish I could keep you like this…”
“I miss your mind, Cashmere…”
I can’t remember how I responded. Confusion, probably. Then…
Blankness again. Nothing. Back to… wherever I went when I wasn’t conscious
Until the next time.
It hurts to be conscious again.
I feel like my mind’s got cracks in it, like a mug that’s been dropped but somehow hasn’t shattered.
They’re hairline cracks, not quite at the point of leakage…
But there’s more of them each time I wake.
I feel those cracks now. A lot of them.
And there’s something trapped in there, something that wants to spill out, that just needs a Pandora to free it…
…what if this happens again?
There’s someone else in the room. Soft breath. A thick, sweet, savoury musk, one that makes my face feel hot and my blood rush.
I hold my breath and listen.
Light floods the room, so bright it somehow makes my ears ring along with the sting in my eyes.
I screw my eyes shut. If I open my eyes again, I might fall into that deeper darkness again, and I don’t want that…
“Open your eyes.”
I don’t open my eyes.
They open themselves.
I’m staring up at a vixen. Her eyes are two cloudless skies, and her fur is a vibrant field of orange and cream. Her long auburn hair is tied into a braid that drapes over her right shoulder, down to rest at her chest.
Wide, large rectangular glasses rest on her snout. She’s wearing a white coat, with the New Vulpes symbol, that angular fox-head, on its lapel.
Beneath that… nothing else.
Her coat barely covers her nipples.
And her dark underwear beneath doesn’t obscure the thick outline of her cock, half erect, pointing downwards, pulsing subtly.
The smell is coming from somewhere around there. Spicy, heady, thick.
My face feels hot.
My cock’s rock hard too, tenting the tight black underwear - the only thing I’m wearing, probably the only thing I’ve worn for… who knows how long.
“Hello, Foxtoy,” the vixen says. “My name is Summer.”
Her eyes are unfathomable. She has a soft, easy smile on her face, one that reaches her eyes. It’s imperios and commanding, but there’s a sense of fondness and fawning to it.
Like a mother watching over a child. Or a Goddess watching over her…
Goddess?
Where’d that come from?
Fuck.
I’ve still got thoughts of Foxes - not as a species, but as a totem, a thing to worship - rolling around in my head. There’s a soft voice that sounds like my own. Like tinnitus, but softer, not just a ringing, but words.
It is… and it obeys…
No. No.
I shake my head and cast my eyes down.
Looking at her face is dangerous.
But her toes aren’t much better.
Her toe-claws tap at the floor, left to right, back and forth in a newton’s-cradle wave.
I try not to get too fixated on them, but the conditioning’s still there. I can feel it forcing saliva from my glands, pushing blood down between my legs, the desire to kiss and sniff and worship those paws…
I should have the instinct to run. She’s almost the same height as me, and I’m a little broader; I could knock her over and run, but…
I can’t.
I don’t even feel the urge. I’m aware of its absence. I’m aware that I should want to flee, but I don’t want to. I don’t know why.
I keep my mouth shut.
“You don’t want to talk,” she says. “That’s the correct thing to do, for someone in your mental state. You’ve been through a lot more than most foxtoys have been put through, and you should not have been. You don’t deserve that.”
“By the way; I’m only using ‘you’ for the moment because you’re very mentally fragile right now. You’re trying to connect your past with your present, to make sense of lost time. Trying to do that puts a lot of pressure on your mind. Your mind’s on the precipice of breaking down entirely.”
She’s right. I feel fragile. I feel like a cracked mug, that could fall apart with the wrong shock. An impact, or even a change in temperature.
It’s terrifying. I feel like I’m being stalked by a predator.
I feel like my heart’s about to implode, like my guts are going to fall out of me, like my brain’s going to boil in my head…
“And that’s not your fault.”
…Hearing those words quietens those feelings in an instant. Relief forms into warm pools behind my eyes. I almost sob.
Her soft fingers rest under my chin and gently push upwards.
“Up here, please.”
That smile’s still there. Not a hint of malice or patronisation. Almost motherly.
No… like a Goddess.
I feel safe.
“You have done nothing wrong since your initial education, Foxtoy.”
There’s that title again. I know in my distant past I heard that word and shivered with fear and revulsion. Then more recently it made me shiver with pleasure.
Right now…?
I’m not sure.
“My name is Cashmere,” I say. I want to sound defiant. But my voice is husky, dry, hoarse.
“At this moment, it is,” Summer says. “For a little while it wasn’t, right now it is, and after we spend a little time together, it won’t be again.”
I’m… having trouble following the words. My mind strains to follow.
I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to lose myself-
“Shhh-shh-shh…” her thumb-claw rests on my lips, making me swallow my words. “It’s going to be fine, don’t worry, pretty little creature. What we’re about to do together will remove all that distress, and make it good as new.”
It…
It?
I can’t tell if It means me, or It means the situation, or…
“Come along. My office will be much more comfortable than this room.”