FSE

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It was with no small joy or exhaustion that Lydia Green deposited the last box of knick-knacks and bric-a-brac down among the pile of cardboard containers she'd mentally dubbed 'random crapland'. The raccoon girl whipped the sweat from her brow and slumped down into the well used sofa that she and her compatriot had half carried, half dragged up against a wall. She tugged at the neck of the stained grey tank top, desperate for a rush of cool air and cursing bras in all their heat trapping, itching forms.

All of 26 and change, Lydia took in what would, in the course of a few days, transform into her brand new living room. Not a big one, but comfortably sized to fit a couch, a coffee table that wasn't just an upturned cardboard with a towel tossed over it, a couple chairs and an entertainment center. Off to one side was a hallway that lead to the guest bath, an office space that was more an enlarged broom closet than proper room and of course, the bedroom which was not so subtlety calling her name with promises of the pillowy comfort of a brand new mattress and silk sheets courtesy of her parents. But Lydia resisted the sweet, siren call of sleep because to fall into that embrace would be to abandon something even better; Cassie coming out of the kitchen with a strawberry daiquiri in either hand, rivlets of condensation running down the sides of the frosted glass.

Lydia made a pathetic noise and weakly raised one hand towards her friend, grasping at empty air. "Quickly, I'm not sure how much longer I can last without ice and booze," she said.

Cassie blew a raspberry before handing off one of the drinks and depositing herself beside Lydia. The white rat barely came up to Lydia's shoulder and slumped down on the couch sipping on her drink; she looked positively diminutive compared to her college buddy. Though contrary to stereotype, Lydia had been the one going for a medical degree, pharmacology specifically. Cassie was the legal major.

"It's not that hot, you whiner."

"It is when you're unloading a truck by yourself!"

"It was four boxes. Four light boxes. You're a whiner."

Lydia narrowed her gaze at Cassie, bitterly slurping the sugary sweet frozen cocktail, refusing to budge an inch on the matter. Cassie just savored the daiquiri, unmoved by Lydia's accusing look.

"Still can't believe you got a place in the suburbs," Cassie said, breaking the pall of silence. "Also can't believe you got it for so cheap."

Lydia screwed up a corner of her mouth. "The downpayment was cheap, the interest is going to bend me over the railing."

"If I remember Junior year right, you'll like tha-OW!" Cassie jerked her leg up, ankle throbbing where Lydia had registered her protest suddenly and sharply.

"Shut up about that, please," Lydia said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I'll never live down Blake talking me into sex on the balcony."

"Whatever did you see in him?" Cassie asked, her whip cord of a tail twitching at the memories of Lydia's short lived relationship with her douchebag ex.

"Abs, ass and dick," Lydia said.

"Fair."

"But anyway, changing subject, the realty company really wanted it off their hands," Cassie explained while eyeing where exactly she'd be hanging her tv. "Last owner disappeared. Big mystery apparently."

"Made people jumpy about buying?"

Lydia shrugged. "I guess. Police never turned up a body. Car and all his possessions were still here. Just, poof, vanished."

"Spooky," Cassie said flatly.

Lydia's cheek twitched, "Whatever. It was ten years ago, a lot of time for 'man runs off with mistress' to get turned into 'man buried in crawlspace by the mob' or whatever the story mutated into."

Cassie sat her now empty glass down on the carpet and stretched with a sigh, working out the knots she'd gotten in her back from helping unload earlier, which she did plenty of thank you very much. "So how much do you want to unpack of this crap today?"

Lydia stared at the small mountain of boxes across from them, thought about the several boxes worth of kitchen crap that had mostly been unpacked as it was brought it and then thought about a hot shower and breaking in the bed. She waved dismissively at the boxes. "Fuck it, I'll take care of it tomorrow after work. I'm tired."

Cassie made an appreciative noise and bobbed her head, the tight bun she'd pulled her silver hair into coming partly undone as she did. "Yeah I like that idea. Might be able to swing by tomorrow. Depends on how late I get out of the firm."

"Still coming by the pharmacy for your estrogen? Finally got it in."

"Oh thank god," Cassie said. "Yeah, I'll pick it up on my lunch break."

"Cool, I'll be there. 'Cause...ya know..I work there and shit."

The rat gave the raccoon an inscruitable look and made an expression that might have been a smile and shook her head. "Alright, I'm heading back to my much more depressing hovel. I need a shower, a sandwich and have some legal briefs I want to go over before bed."

"Ooooh, anything juicy?"

"Client confidentiality, Lydia. Can't tell you. But oh my god yes." Cassie got up, stretched again showing off her runners build to no one that cared and bent over to hug Lydia. "See you later, Stripes. Proud of you."

Lydia squeezed her tightly back, or at least as tightly as her sore arms could muster, and said "See you later, Ears. Thanks for the free labor."

***

Another daiquiri and a couple hours later, Lydia was in the bathroom, stripped and ready to indulge in that most decadent of pleasures that modern life bestowed. A long hot shower with lots of shampoo. She played with the hot and cold knobs of the walk-in shower, testing and retesting the water until she hit the perfect temperature; hot enough to bite deep down into her muscles without actually scalding the fur off her. She double checked the body wash, popped the cap and sniffed just to make sure there wasn't some mix up at the factory. Lavender scented. She could already feel the tension start to unspool from her aching limbs.

Lydia stepped under the stream and moaned as a high pressure stream of hot water soaked her from head to toe, shutting the fogged plastic door lazily with one hand and seizing the shower wand with the other, languidly guiding the steam down her back, curling her tail to soak every inch of it and then back up the curve of her spine, sending blissful little pulses of pleasure straight to her brain. Gods above she'd needed this, she thought to herself as she sprayed down her still throbbing legs while the shower filled with steam.

Slowly she dragged the stream up from her tired ankles and along her inner thigh, soaking in the heat, eyes fluttering closed, not realizing just how high up she'd gone until a sudden tremor shot through her body and a gasp slipped out of her mouth. Lydia chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, rolling the idea of christening the shower around in her mind. No, she decided. Too tired. Just enjoy the shower for now.

Grabbing the shampoo bottle she squirted an entirely excessive amount into her hand, letting the delightful scent of artificial flowers fill the air before working a lather into her hair, almost puring from the self-indulgent scalp massage, working the shampoo down the sides of her face, neck and down her arms before getting another handful of the off-white leaning towards purple soap and working it into the fur and flesh of her soft but not overweight belly in slow, firm circles until her hands found her breasts. Another moan and shiver came from Lydia as she worked the soap into her generous chest, nipples tingling delightfully at the tender ministrations.

Lydia leans back against the shower wall, the sprayer dangling from its hose and soaking her calves. Her fingers strummed over her pert black buds, pinching and squeezing gently while her mouth hung just a hair open, eyes half lidded. On their own, Lydia's legs spread to give her more stability in the shower but the way the hot, steamy air hit her sex made her knees quiver. Okay, maybe her body was telling her something. Maybe she needed it a little more than she thought.

Her left hand still cupping her breast and teasing her nipples, Lydia's right hand reluctantly left its firm resting place, nails dragging down her belly towards the heat between her legs. She traced a finger between her folds, lulling her head back as nerve endings flared through her hips. Lydia's mind, lost in a haze of lust drifted back to that son of a bitch Blake. 6' 3", 10" Blake, a football jock through and through. A chiseled slab of equine perfection with a gorgeous amber coat and piercing black eyes.

Blake was never a soft lover. He knew what he wanted. He'd swagger into her dorm room, or call her to his or find her at whatever party was being thrown, shirt half undone showing off his carefully sculpted chest, rippling muscles showing under his coat. Blake would grab her by the arms and press his lips to hers, their tongues twisting around and caressing eachother, his teeth nipping and nibbling along her neck.

Lydia moaned, pressing her digit harder against her slit, teasing her clit and fighting the urge to press her finger into herself, especially when she thought about how Blake would suck her tits, not breasts, her tits. He never said something as polite as breasts. He'd tell Lydia to bend over, show off her ass to him and his asshole friends on the team and she'd do it, embarrassed the whole time, but also something else. Hot. Horny. She liked being pushed around by that bastard. Liked being told to get down on her knees and suck his cock.

Christ, what a cock. Longer than her forearm and as thick as her wrist, she could still remember the taste and feel of it in her hands and in her mouth. Salty, sweet and musky. Lydia loved it, loved how she could feel his heartbeat in the thick veins as she jacked him off, the taste of his precum while she licked and sucked and the hot rush of his cum filling her mouth and flowing down her throat; when he didn't just pull it out and finish on her face and chest of course. God she almost missed that, the feeling of being used.

Lydia cried, legs trembling as she pushed two fingers into herself, thumb working steady circles around her clit while her other hand squeezed hard at her tit. Her eyes were clamped shut, lost in the memory of Blake. God, when he'd just throw her to the bed, almost ripping her pants off, hot and hungry, their hands and mouths all over eachother, his tongue on her cunt, her mouth around his cock and finally when he'd thrust that thing into her, so big it almost hurt, so good it almost made her black out. Blake would slam into her, again and again, his stamina terrifying but so, so amazing as he'd fuck her into a screaming, drooling puddle, cuming again and again before he'd finally burst inside her.

Lydia was on her knees, hand working furious against her, her juices mixed with the soap and hot water, hips starting to buck. Fuck, FUCK then he'd pushed her into doing that stupid, horrible, fucking HOT thing on the balcony, bending her over second floor balcony overlooking the pool party below, hammering into her like he always did, showing her off stark naked to the whole world. Then someone below, she had no idea who, had looked up and seen exactly what was going on and suddenly there was a hundred pairs of eyes on them, on her, naked and being rawed by a dipshit stallion. Then she'd...then she'd...

"F-FUCK!" Lydia screamed, doubling over as orgasm rocked her body, every nerve flaring white hot as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, hips spasming against her hand, a hand that kept working furiously, angrily inside her. Slowly, painfully slowly, Lydia tapered off her ministrations, riding out the fading orgasm in a quivering, tingling heap on the shower floor. Her vision was blurred, breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps and her whole body felt somehow impossible light and impossible heavy at the same time.

"S-shit," words finally finding their place on her tongue. "G-guess it h-has been a while. Wooboy, I needed that, haha."

Still giggling weakly to herself, Lydia forced herself up onto her knees, tinny spasms still hitting her every other heart beat. She grabbed the almost forgotten shower sprayer in a weak hand and started running the stream down her body again, refocusing her thoughts on actually getting clean. Then, out of the corner of her eye through the fogged plastic, looming above her was a towering black silhouette, mere inches away from the door, inches away from her.

Lydia screamed and threw herself back against the shower wall, still prone on her hindequarters, clutching the shower sprayer in both hands, some feeble attempt at a weapon. But no sooner had she spotted the silhouette then it was gone. Addreneiline pumped through her veins and her chest was a snare drum as she carefully stood up. A trembling hand reached for the door handle and shakingly opened it just a crack, just enough to see into the bathroom proper. Nothing.

Lydia killed the water and took a cautious step out of the shower, unconcsiously grabbing a mop she'd left propped up against the bathroom sink when they were bringing things in. Something to put between her and whatever weirdo might be in her house. Dripping, shaking, cold and terrified, Lydia stalked through her house, checking each room one by one until she was sure no one was in here with her.

The raccoon took a steadying inhalation once she'd searched the kitchen, the last room and last place anyone could have been hiding. Nothing. No one. Not a soul. It'd just been a hallucination brought on by a mind overwhelmed by serotonin and too little sleep. She started to laugh at the whole affair, something to put behind herself until she noticed, once more from the corner of her eye...the basement door was slightly ajar. She froze. The basement. Right. Of course. And neither she nor Cassie had taken anything down there today, she was sure of it.

Eyes fixed on the cracked door, Lydia shuffled to where she thought Cassie had stashed the knives and opened the drawer, producing a large kitchen knife with a probing hand. Something a little more reliable than a mop. She crept towards the door, hands trembling as she carefully pulled the door all the way open.

The basement light was off, the kitchen's ceiling fixture casting enough illumination to light the set of short concrete steps leading down but nothing beyond that. Lydia reached around the door frame, hand groping the wall for a light switch, eyes fixed on the all consuming darkness at the bottom of the steps. Deep, impenetrable, like the whole world terminated at the bottom of the stairs into a cold, empty, hungry void.

Click

She flipped the switch at the same moment she found it, the basement light snapping on and banishing the dark. Tightening her grip she took a step forward, passed the doorframe and into the basement. It was a large room, far more storage space than she could ever need but with a hook up for the washer and dryer and totally empty of any burglar or creep who'd gotten ideas. Lydia took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Just a plain empty basement. Just a plain empty basement with hideous green wallpaper that had started to peel in places.

"Who wallpapers a basement, I mean honestly?" Lydia stepped back into the kitchen and went to close the basement door. She took a couple experimental motions with the door before clicking her tongue and examining the strike plate.

The hinges were loose and the strike plate was old and worn. No wonder the door was ajar. Probably popped open as the house was settling. She shut the door, replaced her knife and grabbed her mop, pushing thoughts of intruders out of her mind and turning her attention to the trailer of soapy water she'd left through the house.

Hell of a start to a new home, she supposed. Lydia dried herself off in the bathroom, cleaned up what she could and, now thoroughly exhausted, climbed into her bed. In moments, she was asleep.

Hours later, as the night rolled on and with Lydia still fast asleep, the light slipping out from beneath the basement door, the light the raccoon had neglected to turn off, began to flicker and fade before changing to a cold blue light spilling across the kitchen tile. The basement door creaked open.