FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Content warning: The following story contains depictions of consentual species-based superiority play.

One of the first things they warn you about when you achieve a level of cross-galactic fame is that there will be porn of you. Sure, most people will use hovs for their intended purposes. Freighter pilots in deep space will have you dancing on their dashboard, entertaining themselves on the long trips between stars. College-age youths will display you in large rooms, rocking to the beat as you guide them through the steps, a precariously held drink clutched in one hand. DJs on far-flung stations will cast your image into the center of the dancefloor, giving their remote outpost the feeling of being right at the galactic core. But that's not all that will happen.

Before I signed my first contract with DRD Entertainment, I was sat down by several fellow reptilians and told what to expect. There would be--would be, they stressed, not might be--illicit copies of any hovs I made. Editing holographic videos was a tough job, but these people were motivated. Any dance I made, there would be a version with me dancing naked. Those would appear within a few hours. Within a day, there would be hovs of me dancing while naked and visibly aroused. Within a week, body-type variations would appear for those that wanted me thicker or thinner, taller or shorter, colored differently, or with a twelve-inch dick. Within three weeks, they would have sampled out enough of the baseline animation to remix it however they wanted: if I thrust my hips once during the entire dance, they would have by that time figured out how to show me humping at the air in a smooth continuous loop. It was entirely possible that it would be spliced with other hovs, turned into longer fictionalized videos of me fucking (or getting fucked by) everything and anything people wanted to see me in bed with.

And that was not all that would happen. If my videos weren't enough, they would provide their own. People would dress as me and record home pornos. People would write stories about how I fell madly in love with them. My likeness would be in the public domain, and I would cease to have privacy in that regard. Forever.

It would be especially bad because I was a gene-mod. I was exotic. Reptilians comprised 19% of the galactic populace, but few of them had the bioluminescent stripes that I had, and none, so far as I was aware, had gifted themselves mammalian styled hair, in what they called a mohawk. My natural scale color was a plain black, occasionally with a touch of shine after a recent shed, but after my gene-mods I was decorated like a rainbow. I'd seen dancers pay thousands for an outfit half as unique as my body was on its own. My image would be in extremely high demand.

I think I surprised everyone at DRD Entertainment when I asked if it would be beneficial to release my own line of adult hovs in that case. My best friend and manager, Corinne, did her best to not laugh at the stunned silence that followed.

When they had recovered, they told me that while some artists have moved in that direction, they encouraged me to begin with a more traditional line of products. It would be easier to diversify later, and I would have a better understanding of the implications of my own fame.

I made a little flourish with my head, just enough to set my mohawk waving, and asked for the contract. I was ready to sign. Corinne rolled her eyes at my dramatics--she was wearing a muted brown suit that helped draw out the calmer undertones in her otherwise bright green scales, a formal look for a formal occasion--but she signed alongside me.

My debut release, "Vadi, The Rhythm of the Wind," was out a few days later. That's my name, by the way. Vadi. Short for Vadisdh-meral.

I was at a hotel on Isoca III when it released. I had nothing particularly better to do at the time: all the hype was being generated by savvy social-constructionists at the company, and Corrine had directed me to rest because, as she put it, she "had plenty of time to wear me out later." So I logged onto the galactic net and waited.

My fellow reptilians at DRD Entertainment knew their business well. The first naked version of "Vadi, The Rhythm of the Wind" was out three hours later. It only took twelve hours for one with me fully aroused and hard to appear (with a shaft that was, I noticed with slight annoyance, shorter than my own). I pulled it up and cast it into my hotel room. If I paused the hov and walked close to my own figure, it was clear that the shaft was not my own. I mean, I knew it wasn't mine, but it would be clear to anyone else that it wasn't: it didn't seem to attach quite right, and during the more active moments of the dance as I twirled or spun, the physics of the artificial penis were off, but overall it was an impressive job for as fast as it had come out.

There were message boards and threads of people devoted to making these so-called hovas (HOlographic Videos for Adults). The thread for "Vadi, The Rhythm of the Wind" already had hundreds of posts, most of them elated with how amazing I looked and begging the more notable hova artists to put aside whatever they were working on at that time and dedicate everything to making hovas of me. I read through the more detailed fetish requests and was surprised to see some fetishes I had never before knew existed. (One poster was very keen for me to have a mammalian-style external sheath and scrotum.)

That evening, as I rested in a warm bath, my ego buoyed by all the positive comments and my libido racing from all the sexual ideas floating through it, I jerked off to a powerful orgasm.

As work ramped up and Corinne kept me busy with the business of being a professional performer, the hovas became my personal stress relief. I'd get back to my room after an exhausting day, log on to Hova Central, find the latest Vadi-related uploads (I was popular enough to have my own dedicated section), and jerk one out as I watched myself perform. I asked the company if it was possible to speed up production on my second release, simply because I wanted to give the hova artists more source material to work with. The social constructionists balked, but finally agreed that I could do some additional releases, provided they were small in overall size. That's how "Vadi, Re:Visited" came out. I added a lot more hip thrusts to that one and was richly rewarded with new hova content as a result.

Within a year I was the third most popular hov dancer in the galaxy, and THE most popular hova dancer period. Hova Central had splintered with a new site Vadi-A dedicated just to hovas of yours truly. The header of Vadi-A was an image of myself, dark eyes smoldering with streaks of orange and red bioluminescence framing my face, topped with a rainbow mohawk, and licking my teeth while leering towards the viewer. So many hovas and associated materials were uploaded to Vadi-A that I simply could not view them all, but that's not to say I didn't try.

That's also not to say that I wouldn't regularly receive messages from Corinne at four in the morning telling me to quit jacking off to myself and sleep.

It's nice to have a manager who cares.

I'd contacted the manager of Vadi-A soon after it had split from Hova Central and we'd struck up a friendly relationship. She was honored to chat with me, but also very businesslike. Her interest wasn't in hovas of myself, but in the general hova community. On occasion she would ask me if there was a particular move I could include in my next hov, and I would ask her if she would ban certain topics from Vadi-A. (There were some very unsavory violent types of hovas I didn't want to be even unofficially associated with and Vadi-A, by this point, was known to be at least unofficially associated with me.)

It was through her that I first learned of "A Night Backstage."

"A Night Backstage" was not a typical hova. Hovas were generally moving, whereas "A Night Backstage" was composed of a sequence of still images with narration connecting them together. It was a bit of a throwback honestly. Back before good compression made hovs easy to acquire anywhere in the galaxy, the smaller size of audio-erotic dramas made them a popular choice with deep-space travelers. Nowadays they were archaic and, where they did exist, of abysmally low quality.

The issue, Vadi-A's administrator told me, was not with the quality, which was actually good, all things considered, but rather that being an audio-erotic drama, it gave me a personality. And there was a small but vocal contingent that did not like the personality I had been given. Their beloved Vadi would never behave that way, and they saw "A Night Backstage" as slander against my character.

She wanted me to give it a look and, if I wanted, she would take the hova down.

So when I settled down into my room for the night, I downloaded the hova and turned it on.

Instantly the lights went dim. The scene unfurled before me. I was there, on stage in the middle of a dance move. I was wearing a heavy purple suit, whose sharp lines and angles contrasted with my smoother curves and whose dullness contrasted with my bright gene-modded colors. It was a frame from "Vadi, The Rhythm of the Wind" frozen for an instant. The scene zoomed out, showing a stage and a roaring, dancing crowd (a stock image, I noted), and then, once it had zoomed out completely, the narration began.

"It was my first dance."

The voice was a baritone, male, with a sharpness between the consonants that was typical of mammals. As he spoke, a light flicked on in the crowd, highlighting a single individual. It was a fox, also male, likely a gene-mod as well due to the pallid green color of his fur and eyes. He wore very little. A few loose belts circled his otherwise naked chest and were flapping around him as if he was in the middle of a spin. His pants were cut right above the ankle and were loose, flowing with him. The only other clothes he wore were a frankly incredible number of piercings: large hoops dotted his ears, bars added ridges to his muzzle, and studs were visible on his tongue and nipples. I didn't recognize him. He wasn't a fellow hov dancer, or at least, not a popular one. The image quality was a little grainy. I guessed this was the hova artist himself, recording the image at home.

A few images flickered of me dancing on stage and the fox reflecting a similar dance move on the floor.

"It was the time of my life. I'd never felt so alive. And the break came all too soon."

The stage flickered to show it now empty. The crowd had dispersed. Even the most eager dancers couldn't go for hours straight, so the clubs insisted on breaks to allow them to rest, use the bathroom, and (most importantly) get a fresh round of drinks. The narration and images showed the fox being curious. Everyone else wanted to chat with friends, but he didn't have anyone, so there was nothing to stop him from trying to steal a peek backstage.

The dancefloor disappeared, replaced with an image of the green fox at a door. He was pushing it open, peering around the corner. And then the image snapped to the fox, face down on the floor, with me towering over him.

"I slipped," the narration said. "I fell into the room and hit my head against something hard. I yelped before I could stop myself. I clapped a hand over my muzzle, but I needn't have bothered. He already knew I was there. I felt his foot on my shoulder, pushing me down.

"'What do we have here?' he said.

"'N-nobody.'

"'Oh, nobody? Is that your name, mammal? Nobody?'"

And I understood why there had been concern over this hova. The fox had done a good job of replicating my accent, but he had also added a definite sneer on the word "mammal." There was a reptilian superiority movement, but it wasn't anything I wanted to be a part of. I was all ready to call up Vadi-A's administrator and tell her to yank it, when the narration caught my ear again.

"'No. It's--' but the foot shoved me back down before I could finish.

"'It's whatever I say it is, mammal. You're in a heap of trouble breaking into my changing room like this. So if you want to stay out of jail tonight, you're going to agree with everything I say.'

"I swallowed. My mouth was dry. I knew he wasn't kidding. Trespassing laws were ridiculously strict in this sector. So I nodded and said, 'My name is whatever you say it is.'

"'Then right now, your name is mammal, and mammals obey their superiors. Understood?'

"I could feel his claws digging a little sharper into my back. I yipped. 'Yes, sir.'"

The thing that stopped me was hearing all those words come out of a distinctly mammalian muzzle. The writer of this hova wasn't trying to tie me to the reptilian superiority movement. It had nothing to do with me, or with reptiles in general. There was something else about this scenario that he found hot. Really hot if the bulge now outlined in the fox's pants was any indication. I wanted to see more.

In the hova, the fox was told that he had to stay in my dressing room until I got back, or else I'd report him to the authorities. The narrator launched into an inner dialogue that was rather cliche about "Why did I feel this way?" as he began rubbing over his erection through his clothes. He was so lost in the pleasure that I caught him masturbating as I returned to the dressing room. The image of myself in the hova was of me looking down sternly, arms crossed.

I--that is, the real me--watched enraptured as the fox was, in his own words, "put in his place": made to strip out of every last article of clothing and then present his now naked body. He was quite aroused by this point, visibly leaking precum, and I noticed with a start that I was too, a damp spot on my thigh from where my shaft had laid. I stroked myself as the hova switched to a more directly sexual tone. The fox was fellating my unmoving body, his narration telling of how amazed he was about how right this felt while interspersed with sounds of what I surmised to be the fox sloppily sucking on a dildo.

The ending of the story came unexpectedly fast after I--the me in the story--climaxed. The fox found himself being dragged into a large suitcase, packed up alongside all the other gear, to be transported to my next venue and continue servicing me. The last words of the narration were, "I couldn't believe that this was to be my fate, and I couldn't believe how much I was looking forward to it."

Fade to black.

End scene.

The hova ended with me teetering not far from climax. I closed my eyes, imagining that fox fellating me as he had in the hova, and stroked myself hard until I came.

Then, once I had cleaned up, I sat down to watch part 2.

"A Night Backstage" had become a serial story. Part 2 was much like the first, with a new venue and a new sexual position that I used the fox in after my set was over. It also explored the narrator's psyche. At this point he only ever referred to himself as "the fox," which, not coincidentally I thought, was also the handle he used when posting the hovas to Vadi-A.

I noticed a pattern in subsequent parts of the story. Each one seemed centered around a promotional image I had done. Part 3 took place mainly in a hotel room with me relaxing in bed, with the images taken from a The-Life-Of-The-Stars-At-Home photo shoot I had done. Part 4 featured the image of myself in a mesh top and bottom I had done for a single release, "Nightlight," and the story was of me taking the fox to a club, dressing the fox up in the same outfit and showing him off. Part 5 featured me in a fine suit, holding up a glass of wine (for a brand I had been promoting), and the fox was tied up, used as a visual centerpiece and plaything for a party of high class reptilians.

And so it went. There were 12 parts in total, and I watched them all. Many times over.

When I was done, I called up Vadi-A's administrator. I let her know I didn't have a problem with the hovas and she should deal with the complaints as diplomatically as possible. I also asked her if she could tell me anything more about the artist behind the hovas.

She twitched a whisker and regarded me in that unmoving, disapproving way that only felines are capable of. "I can't release any information on him," she said. "Privacy."

"All I want is a sector address."

Silence and more of that unmoving, disapproving face. "Sector Gamma-4," she said, and abruptly ended the call.

That was fine with me, because as soon as she was done, I called up Corinne and explained why we needed to make a detour to Gamma-4. I even shared the whole series of "A Night Backstage" with her. I'd shared a number of hovas with her over the years: our friendship went back long enough that we never had a problem discussing sex with each other, although neither of us really were attracted to the other. It had been a thing for us to bond over, the way some people bond over so-bad-they-are-good old hovs.

I waited, bouncing on my heels to hear what her thoughts on the series were, but she never ended up telling me. She called me after finishing the lot of them, saw the look of anticipation on my face, and said, "Let's see if we can add a performance in Gamma-4."

Thankfully, we could. The schedule DRD Entertainment had me on wasn't too demanding, the sector wasn't that far out of the way, and a special stop always drummed up more turnout. Gamma-4 was also home to Windsail Station, a popular destination with artists of all kinds.

Once the new tour stop was finalized, I went shopping, because I had a lot to get ready for.

I arrived on Windsail Station almost five weeks later. I made sure the dance was widely publicized. I wanted the fox to be there. I arrived backstage almost two hours before the show began, far earlier than I normally do, and peeked out at the currently sparse crowd.

Windsail Station permits the sale of artificial stimulants, but only in low doses. A few people had already congregated at the back of the dancefloor, starting into their first dose of zap to spice up the night. Even with the doses low, starting this early, they'd have a nice buzz by the time the show started. I kept a sharp eye out for the fox, but no one that green was in the crowd.

A half-hour before the show, I was starting to worry my plan hadn't worked and the fox would not show up. And that's when I realized he'd been there almost since the beginning. My eyes had been slipping past him because he wasn't a gene-mod after all. His pelt was white with haphazard flecks of black; he'd merely applied an overlay for the hova to make him look green. But there was no mistaking the piercings that dotted his face, even if he hid a good portion of his body under baggy black dance clothes that I rarely saw in the gamma sectors.

I summoned Corinne and pointed her towards the fox, while I slipped back into my dressing room. I sat and waited for barely a minute before she returned, with the fox looking perplexed behind her, although it was hard to read too much of his emotional state behind the shaded visor he wore.

For this occasion, Corinne had forsaken her usual muted brown suit for one of ebon black with bright white lace at the cuffs. It sharpened the greens of her scales to the point it was almost painful to look directly at her. It gave my good friend an incredibly intense look.

She took full advantage of her appearance, combined with her best lawyerly voice, to confront the mammal. "Sir, we are aware you have produced a number of unofficial hovas of my client, Vadi, here. These hovas have implied that Vadi is a devotee of the reptilian supremacist movement, which he is adamantly not. These allegations could damage Vadi's reputation and his career. My employers, DRD Entertainment, would like to speak with you further about this, but before they do, Vadi himself would like to discuss this matter with you privately." She turned to me, and having delivered her speech like a consummate actress, bowed. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

The fox opened his mouth to speak but I waved him off. His jaws crashed back together with an audible clack. I smiled inwardly at his reaction and touched the controls for the room's display. Audio clips from "A Night Backstage" began playing:

"Is that your name, mammal?"

"Mammals obey their superiors."

"Inferior warmbloods."

"No, I don't care what your name is. Mammals don't deserve names."

"This is your place. This is the place for all your kind."

"You belong to me now."

"We're doing it because I want to do it, and because what you want doesn't matter, fox. It never did."

As I stopped the playback, the fox in the corner could no longer hold back, and burst out with an emphatic wave of his arms: "I can explain! I--"

"Shh," I said sharply. "I want to try my hand at explaining first."

His hands were still held high as if to ward off an attack. He licked his lips nervously and relaxed a touch. But only a touch.

I continued on, pacing back and forth before him. "To most people listening to that, it sounds like you're putting a bunch of reptilian supremacist rhetoric in my mouth. But, frankly, it doesn't sound that way to me. I have relatives who are supremacists. I know how they talk. You never mention the Natural Order of Evolution. You never mention Galactic Dominion. You don't talk politics, and politics is pretty key to reptilian supremacists. I have a guess that you did not have me speak like that," I gestured to the speaker where the audio had come from a moment before, "because you thought I believed in all that crap, but because you wanted to hear someone talk that way. Am I right?"

The fox stood mutely and nodded. His black-flecked arms dropped an inch lower.

"I noticed that beyond the supremacy rhetoric, you talk a lot--or should I say, you have me talk a lot--about social order, about position, about belonging and possession, and in particular about your place in all that. Not my place. Yours. It sounds to me like you were having me say the things that you wish would be true for you." I took a deep breath, and hoped he didn't notice my own nervousness. "And what has me so curious is this: is that just a fantasy, or do you really wish someone would show you your true place?"

The implication of my words washed over him. His arms dropped at last. He swayed a little on his feet. "I don't... I mean, it is a fantasy, but part of me hoped. Not necessarily you, you understand. It was just you were, you know, really hot." He said the last bit while gesturing at my face, his fingers tracing the outline of my mohawk. He then seemed suddenly bashful and shoved his hands in his pockets. He continued, but speaking in short, clipped sentences to keep him focused. "You're right. I don't feel like I belong. I never have. So I wrote a place where I did. I would like to have a place like that."

I considered for a moment, fiddling with the back of one hand as if I had an itch under my scales that was my truly pressing concern at that moment. Then I wheeled out a suitcase from the back of the room. "Recognize it?"

I watched with unrepressed glee as the fox's muzzle dropped open: it was the exact same make and model of suitcase that he had been stuffed into at the end of "A Night Backstage" part 1.

"Let me just say this. I have to run out and perform in a minute. And when I am done, I'm going to take whatever is inside of here home with me and show it its place in the galaxy." I left the suitcase and took a step closer to the fox, who was breathing much quicker. "If that thing happens to be you, then let me be clear: I will not care about your name, your identity. Any of that. You will just be a fox. Just another mammal that has to be properly trained. If, tomorrow morning, that mammal decides that wasn't the right place of it, then it can leave."

I started for the door. "Oh, two more things. One, if you get in the suitcase, I expect you to be wearing everything inside of it. Two, if you take me up on my offer, I do hope you'll let people know you'll be absent for the evening. I wouldn't want to be accused of kidnapping."

Then I pushed the door open, stepped through and paused to collect myself. My heart was racing. I had to fight my nascent arousal to stay put. It wouldn't do to dance with a visible hard-on. Corinne was there, hiding (not well) in the shadows. She sent me a questioning look and I flashed a quick thumbs-up back at her. She smiled. I focused on the work at hand and stepped out on stage.

When I got back I was tired and sore, and there was a part of my brain that wanted nothing more than to collapse on the nearest horizontal surface and fall asleep. The rest of my brain was more excited than it had been since I signed my contract. I peeked into my changing room and felt an initial wave of sadness: the fox wasn't there. But then, I realized that his clothes were in the corner, folded quite neatly, and I knew he had taken me up on my offer.

I lifted my wrist and pulled the access for my home computer up into the air before me. It shimmered into reality as the hologram took shape. Normally my system was quite orderly, but now there were over a dozen panels blinking updates and information at me.

I thought the fox's end for his story was a bit... anticlimactic. He just got loaded into a suitcase and wheeled away. There was so much more I could do. So many toys to play with. I had left a number of items for him inside the suitcase. Cuffs, collar, blindfold, harness, all made from Niohar silver so it gleamed like chrome and yet conformed to the skin like latex. It was also hypoallergenic, which I thought important given that the fox was a total stranger. Sensors in the silver relayed a variety of data to me from the fox currently inside the suitcase. His heartrate had recently sped up and he was breathing harder: he must have felt the vibrations as I entered the room.

Another item I had left in the suitcase was a chastity device, a full-sheath cage the bulk of which was Niohar silver, but the tip of which was a nanite mesh, which could be expanded or contracted depending on how much arousal I wanted to permit him to have. It defaulted to being locked tight, but the sensors in it told me his shaft was straining to be let out. Good.

The interior of the suitcase was lined with two dildos, one of which was meant to be taken orally, the other anally. I suspect the fox had a fun time trying to get into the suitcase and ease himself over the two toys. The moment he had put the last of the cuffs on, they would have locked together, wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle. He would have been hobbled and forced to squirm his way in. But my sensors confirmed that he did, within only a couple minutes of me leaving to start the show. At that point, once he was positioned on both toys, the suitcase would seal itself shut around him.

I clicked a button on my computer display, putting the suitcase in "travel mode." I heard a thrum and watched the suitcase shake a little as the fox inside was surprised by both dildos swelling up. They formed knot-like bulges that held them locked in place. The one in his mouth swelled just before and after his teeth. The one in his tailhole swelled just on either side of his sphincter. I noticed with some interest that the anal dildo had not been taken very deep, nor had it at any time since the fox had gotten in. Something to work on, I supposed.

Now that the fox was secured, I took the handle, and started to wheel him out, whistling a jaunty tune to myself as I did so.

It was a fair trip across the station to the tour ship, but I walked with a spring in my step. I was thankful that, being VIPs, we did not need to go through the usual customs protocols for leaving the station. Explaining why I had a mammal stashed in my bags would have been difficult.

My quarters aboard the ship were luxurious given their comparatively small size. Size still carried a premium cost and there were limits on what DRD Entertainment was willing to pay for. Still, it was nicer than what I could have gotten on Windsail Station without spending a small fortune.

I wheeled the suitcase into a corner and called up my computer again. I put the suitcase into "release mode." It slowly unsealed itself, popped open, and deflated around the fox. The two dildos disengaged from the walls of the suitcase and stayed lodged in him.

I reached around the back of his head and gripped the thick white fur that made up his scruff. I hauled him up to his knees, made sure the cuffs and the blindfold were all still securely in place, and told him to stay.

Then I left for a while.

I had things to do, like give myself a post-performance rinse in the shower. I didn't sweat, but the exertion messed with my body's temperature regulation, and the hair I had gene-modded onto myself needed frequent cleaning.

I finished the shower, dried off, and dressed in something more flowing and comfortable than what I had just performed in, a silk robe whose pattern mimicked the colors in my bioluminescent stripes. I returned to find the fox in the exact same position I had left him in. His pierced ears turned to follow me, but he otherwise did not move. I checked in with the sensors dotting his body. He had remained in place except to stretch his limbs.

I unhooked the blindfold from his face and looked into the fox's eyes for the first time since I met him.

I was surprised to see that they were green, the same shade of jade as his fur had been in the hovas he made. He looked back up at me questioningly, anxiously, but also eagerly.

I gripped his scruff and this time forced him forward, pushing his nose into the soft padded floor of my suite. "Tail up," I said, and then added, "That means all the way over your back."

The fox's brush sprang into place, wriggling a little back and forth in excitement.

I put a hand on the base of the dildo, sticking far out of the fox's butt as it was. With a flick of a finger across the controls, the dildo's flares retracted down to a small thin tube and I extracted it from him. "This won't do at all. You need to be able to take this whole thing, because I expect you to be able to take me in just as deep." A tremor ran along the fox's tail. I set the dildo aside and picked up a bottle of nano-lube. I dribbled it up and down along the fox's now bare ass, letting the cool liquid drip down from his tailhole to his balls and to the silver cage he wore. The tremors in him grew as I placed two fingers on either side of his pucker and spread it wide. I brought my other hand in and started penetrating him with one digit, turning it all around, before adding a second and pushing both steadily into him.

The tremors turned to squirms and moans. I sighed and put my foot on his shoulder. Hard. "Stay still," I said, and he gave a mute moan in response but did not squirm any more.

I pushed my fingers in farther, until I was sure I was pressing right up against his prostate. I continued twisting my fingers around inside, ostensibly with the goal of lubing him up, but really what I was aiming for was the big spike in arousal that showed up on the sensors. He was straining against the cage now, the nanite sleeve holding his swelling cock inside his sheath.

I retracted my fingers and replaced them with the dildo. It slid in much easier now, and I kept the pressure up until it had hilted completely within him. I activated the flare on the dildo to lock it back in place and stood up.

The fox did not have any time to relax. A lead was attached to his collar and I tugged it to pull him to the other side of the room. He started to stand up, but I politely reminded him that standing was for people. He was just a mammal. He fell back to his knees and crawled with a wag of his tail and another spike of arousal appearing on my sensors.

I sat behind a large desk and tugged the fox around until he sat between my legs. The fox paced around on all fours in the cramped space, until he found a good spot to position himself. His muzzle rested against my inner thigh, held there by the leash I had attached to him.

It was my turn to feel a tremor run up my back.

Sure, I had felt fur under my fingers before. I had shaken hands and slapped backs with mammals, performed duos with them, and I had gripped the fox's scruff before. But this was something new, something intimate. I was rarely ever touched there, on my inner thighs, by anything I had not placed there myself, and the new sensation of the fox's soft luxurious fur and stiff probing whiskers was exciting me. I clenched my fists. There would be time for arousal, but later. The fox still had to learn his place.

I pulled up my computer on the desk. There was business mail to answer, fan mail to browse, and a few interview questions that needed a response. In the latter case, they wanted a hov of me, not just words, so I kept the fox where he was and shot myself from the chest up. I went back over the recordings to make sure you couldn't hear the fox making any noise, and was pleased to find that the fox was keeping himself dutifully silent. I reached down between recordings, ruffled his hair, and received a pleasant, warm nuzzle in response.

I had to restart the last recording because the moment I started it up was the exact moment the fox decided to explore running his nose lightly over my scales. I wasn't prepared for the texture of it, soft and moist and warm, and I don't think I fully hid the gasp that escaped my lungs. He didn't stop. I could feel his mouth open, his tongue begin to press out--but I interrupted that movement with a sharp tap on his nose. "That's for later," I said, and the tongue dutifully retracted.

When the recordings were done, I tapped a button to send a signal to Corinne. She had been waiting and appeared in my suite a minute later. I felt the fox stiffen between my legs at the appearance of someone else, but his presence was hidden by the side of the desk. Corinne plopped herself down on a chair and chatted with me amiably about work. The conversation never strayed into the sort of details we could not share in public, so it was oddly constrained and forced, but I hoped the fox did not know enough about the industry to realize. He barely moved, and even the feel of his breath on my leg was shallow. I could tell he was unsure about things, but a check on the sensors did not show any signs of undue stress.

I made a signal to Corinne with my hand and she switched topics. With a cough to clear her throat, she spoke a little louder and asked, "So whatever happened with that mammal earlier?"

I felt the fox freeze under the desk. He had stopped breathing now. "Oh that," I said with a laugh. "It's right here, learning its proper place."

"Good," Corinne said with a nod. She had a lovely frill over the top of her head, not too dissimilar from my own mohawk except hers did not require any gene-mods; and it bounced in an animated way as she nodded. "Is the training going well?"

"So far."

"Can I see it?"

I pushed back from the desk and tugged at the leash. The fox came out reticently. I had to tug the leash a lot more than usual. I pulled him to the center of the room and then gave a sharp tug upwards to get him to stand. His eyes darted from me to Corinne and then outside to the stars, and then to the floor. He didn't know what to do with himself. I intervened and placed a hand on his muzzle, guiding it down slightly. His eyes followed the suggestion and stayed fixed on the floor.

I leaned in to whisper into his ear, my long tongue flicking against the sensitive fur there. "This is the place for mammals," I reminded him, invoking some of his own language from the stories he had written, "not just beneath one reptile, but beneath us all. You belong to me, but you are also subservient to her. Now show yourself off properly. Chest out, tail high, legs spread, wrists crossed over your back."

He moved himself into position and I tapped a button, locking the two wrist cuffs he wore to each other in place just above his tail.

Corinne played her part well, stepping around the fox, poking and prodding, inspecting him at deep levels of intimacy without asking for permission, because of course it was assumed that as a reptile, she did not need to ask. His body was ours.

"You know," she said on completion. "I've never actually seen one of these get hard. Can you, you know, arouse him?" There was a twinkle in her eyes and I could tell she was resisting the urge not to break out in a grin that would not match the serious persona she was trying to keep up.

"Easily," I said. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the fox adopt a slightly more worried look. I freed his shaft from the nanite mesh and then activated the dildo in his rear, and by activate, I mean I had it buzzing and gyrating and swelling, all to put an incredible amount of stimulation on his prostate in a short amount of time. It had the desired impact. The fox's shaft leapt out of its sheath, already soaked in precum from his persistent state of arousal, and a thick knot formed at the base. He was, if I'm honest, a little short. I'd heard foxes could be like that, but his length was quite girthy all the same.

Corinne liked what she saw. She reached out and stroked the fox's length with genuine interest, sliding the smooth scales of her palm along the length of his shaft. He convulsed powerfully and gave a loud moan that was only slightly muffled by the cockgag he wore.

Corinne immediately let go of his length and gave a swat to the fox's sac. "Hmph! Mammals are to be seen and not heard. Really, Vadi, this one needs so much training still."

"I know," I said with exaggerated sadness in my voice.

"You should send him to a facility. Have him trained properly by an expert. There's no need to do this all yourself."

I reached down and put my own hand around the fox's length. He wobbled a little but did not moan this time. "Really? What sort of training could she give."

Corinne launched into a long sales pitch for a "mammal training facility" and all the possible skills they offered. She really sexed it up, including lots of stories of relatives or friends who had sent "their mammal" away and were delighted with the results. "My cousin Adad, you know him. Big guy, muscled like a wrestler. He had a mammal of his own, and the thing couldn't manage to fit his entire length in his muzzle. A little understandable. He was that big. But he sent her off and she came back a week later able to deep throat him like a champ. And really, shouldn't all mammals be able to suck cock like that?"

"They should," I agreed with a knowing look right into the fox's jade eyes.

"So will you take him to a facility?"

I smiled. I had felt the fox's shaft jump with every story and every idea that Corinne had mentioned. And the fact that she had addressed me the whole time and not him (because after all, he was just a mammal) was clearly exciting him. "I'll think about it. For now, though, he needs a personal touch. I don't want to send it off to a facility so soon. It'll come to think of them as its owners and not me."

"That's fair." Corinne turned to look at the fox. "Let me try again," she said and pushed my hand off to replace it with hers. She stroked the fox hard and fast for several seconds.

The fox had learned his lesson. He didn't make a sound.

"That's a good sign. It's a quick learner. You picked well, Vadi."

I shrugged and smiled.

"Have you had time to break it in properly yet? Any time for fun?"

I faked a sigh and said, "No, not yet. Business before pleasure, sadly."

"Sadly," she agreed. And then she seemed to perk up. "Ah, that probably means I'm delaying you from getting everything out of your mammal. I'll let you be." With barely enough time for me to call out a goodbye to her back, she slipped out of the room.

I placed a hand on the fox's chest. He was breathing hard, almost to the point of panting. As I watched, his cock bobbed in the air, drips of precum falling to the floor. With a flick of a finger, I turned off the gyrating, pulsating dildo within him. He staggered in place, looking like he was about to fall. With another flick, the dildo in his mouth deflated and popped straight out of his surprised mouth. I held him in place, made sure he was steady, and fetched him a glass of water. He drank in quick fast gulps, barely pausing to breathe. I felt him leaning towards me, and I supported his weight. I had not realized how tired he was getting, but then it had been a surprising and stressful day.

"Th-thanks," he whispered as he licked the water from his lips.

"Seen and not heard," I reminded him. My tone was gentler than it had been. The persona I had adopted was all well and good, but I did want to make sure he wasn't being pressed too hard.

He froze, realizing his mistake. But I ran my fingers through the fur along his spine and he relaxed into compliance again.

I thought we had both earned a rest, and I tugged him over to the chaise lounge in the corner. I slid onto it and pulled him back into the place between my legs which was by now becoming familiar to him. I waited for his breathing to become slow and regular, for him to start nuzzling affectionately at my leg, before I turned on the local station channel. It was a boring sector-wide news report, but right now I didn't need anything that would capture my attention. I wanted a dull white noise in the background. Nothing more.

My fingers ran through the fox's headfur. I found myself drawn to the changes of contour and texture that were provided by his fur and piercings. The long thin strands on top of his head felt like nothing more than a whisper of wind along my scales, but the softer, shorter fur along his ears was far more richly textured, and interrupted here and there by the metal of his piercings, which were far enough from his body's core to still have a touch of coolness to them.

Twice while we sat there, I had to give a sharp tug on the back of his collar. He had started pushing up, questing forward with his nose and tongue towards the slit between my legs. I still wasn't ready for that and he needed to learn patience; although there was a part of my brain that appreciated how his focus was on tending to my sexual needs, not his own. I could feel his cock against my leg, so hard and warm and slick.

When he had finally settled and stopped trying to push forward, his eyes had slid halfway shut. My hand cupped his cheek and ran a finger along his jaw. I felt the warm breath of him trickle along my naked legs, tickling me in ways his fur could not.

I lost track of time, holding him there. I woke from my reverie only when my stomach growled hungrily.

Without shifting enough to disturb the fox, I called up my communicator and typed out a quick message to Corinne. Normally I would have the ship cafeteria deliver directly to me, but I wanted to keep the fox's existence a secret for the moment. Corinne stopped by a few minutes later. The fox stirred and his ears perked as Corinne entered, but I pressed on his cheek, holding him to my thigh, and he relaxed again. He barely moved but to nuzzle me a little as I ate dinner and chatted with Corinne. He wasn't expected to participate. He was just a mammal, after all.

Corinne and I talked as we ate, but only a little. I would keep getting lost in the sensations of the fox's soft fur and cool piercings rubbing up against my scales. His breathing had slowed so much I wondered if he was falling asleep.

After I had finished my meal, it was time to feed the fox. But before I could, Corinne interrupted, asking if she could. I assented and gently lifted the fox's chin up and away. He hadn't even noticed he was being spoken about. I turned him to face Corinne and he moved slowly, as if underwater. His eyes didn't raise up to her, but acknowledged only slowly that she was holding a piece of curried chicken for him. He opened his mouth and she placed it in. He chewed, swallowed, and opened again.

It felt almost like we were performing some odd ritual. The fox looked so peaceful and solemn.

When he stopped eating, Corinne presented her curry-slickened fingers in front of his muzzle. He took them in one at a time and started to suckle them slowly clean.

"Vadi," she said.

I blinked. I'd been falling into the same reverie that the fox had. "Yes?"

"Have you had him suck you off yet?"

"No."

She slowly withdrew her fingers from his fingers, and he gave them up only reluctantly. "You should."

I could tell the fox heard that remark, as his ears went a little flat. Corinne ruffled his hair once more than stepped out. I considered her words for a moment before pulling the fox back into his place between my thighs. "You heard her, fox. Get to work."

With a new source of energy, the fox nosed his way further up my thighs, and I did not stop him this time. I undid the belt of my robe and let it fall open, giving him unimpeded access. His eyes fixated on my slit. It was rather different from most mammalian systems, but he did not seem put off by that. Instead, he approached slowly, sniffing and licking his way along my scales. I found it harder and harder to keep still. It wasn't that I was ticklish, but the sensation of whisker and fur were still something I was unused to. More and more with each passing moment I was imagining how those new sensations would feel running right against my shaft, and that was making my heart beat faster.

I couldn't hold my arousal back. My slit started to swell and as the fox watched on, my shaft started to emerge, smooth and tapered unlike his blunt-tipped length. The tip hung in the air before him, throbbing. He didn't touch it, not yet anyway. He leaned a little closer, eyes and ears turned towards my length. And he sniffed in quick short bursts, focused on processing the new scents. Without moving his head from where it was, he opened his mouth and reached out with his thin tongue. It flicked along the tip of my length and I could no longer hold back. A full body shiver overtook me.

I couldn't wait any longer. I hooked two fingers through the collar he wore and pulled him forward. He went unresisting, being pulled all the way down to deep throat the entire length. His muzzle wasn't small, but then, neither was my length. And I admit being surprised at how easily he took it. A part of me suspected he'd practiced that particular move a lot.

Once I had relaxed my grip on his collar, he started to suckle. He didn't pull off; he merely held my shaft and slathered it with his tongue. The pleasure, long put off as I had teased and used the fox, now rushed in and hit me. My head swam and I gave out a groan of sheer delight.

The fox glanced up with me and I could see the hints of a grin dancing along the edge of his muzzle. He didn't say anything though: his mouth was preoccupied. He pulled back, withdrawing so only the tip of my shaft was left inside his warm muzzle, and then slid back down again. His motions were deliberate and slow, giving me time to drink in the sensations, the way his sharp teeth grazed so carefully along my length, the way his whiskers caressed along my scales, the way his tongue slid side to side as I slipped deeper, the way his ears gave a little flick and brushed over my thighs right at the moment when his nose buried itself against my slit. I had never before really given all that much thought to mating with a mammal, but I was sure I was hooked at this point.

My chest heaved with restrained exertion. I wanted to pin him down and start facefucking him. I wanted to thrust deep and hard, to rut and breed. But my conscious mind said no. I wanted to feel these strange, alien, slow sensations. I gave in to my desires only enough to place a hand on the fox's shoulder and pull him into a faster bobbing rhythm.

He acquiesced like a good mammal and started to pick up the pace. My hips involuntarily started to grind up against him. I could feel the pre leaking out of the tip of my cock, immediately swallowed down by the fox.

He darted in deep, surprising me by again taking the whole length in his muzzle. But this time he did not relent. He did not pull back. He stayed there, breathing hard and fast through his nose as he suckled me. His head twisted from side to side, brushing whisker and fur along my thighs and corkscrewing his tongue and palate around my length.

"Fuck," was all I managed to say. It was all I managed to think. My toes curled and I'm sure my claws left a mark in the floor as I tried to hold onto my sanity.

Then the fox was back to bobbing, faster than he had before. I reached down and gripped his ears, holding them firm. A yip escaped his throat as that forced him to stay still, but I replaced the motion of his head with the motion of my hips, thrusting deep and hard the way I wanted. I thrust in, held still for a moment as my body relished the sensation of being--as the mammals say--balls deep with sensations racing along my entire length, then I quickly pulled back and thrust in again. Soon the instincts were too much and I was just thrusting over and over again and again, the only sounds in the room the slick slurping sounds of the fox's muzzle, and the quick explosive breaths he took through his nose when I gave him a moment's pause.

A thought dashed through my mind. What if he stayed? He could be here, just like this, every night. I could fuck him like this every single night. He would be mine.

I came. My hips heaved forward, bashing against the fox's snout as I forced him to deep-throat me one more time and pumped my seed right into his muzzle. The sensations of pleasure and ecstasy grew and grew until they threatened to become too much. I had to slip back out and collapse on the couch before I blacked out.

The fox stayed where he was, watching me with interest, his tongue running along his lips as he savored and swallowed all that I had given him.

I glanced down and saw his own shaft still throbbing in the air, dripping heavily with shiny pre.

I smiled and, after taking a few more breaths to calm my racing heart, called up the controls for his devices. With a touch of the button, the nanite mesh began to crawl out along his length. It started to slowly, gently, tighten, pulling the shaft back into its sheath. The fox squirmed in his place, looking at me plaintively. I reached out to rub over the thick fur of his throat. "I'll decide when it's time for you to cum, fox. You don't need to worry about that."

He crooned and nodded, nuzzling into my wrist.

I stood and headed for the bathroom, did my business, then as I left, told the fox he had better do the same. When he came out, he found me on the bed, naked and waiting for him. I tapped the spot next to me and the white-furred mammal practically leapt into place.

I pulled out the last piece of gear I had purchased. It was a hip harness, or, more accurately, a hip-to-hip harness. Once it was locked in place, it held us perfectly in a fucking position. I could already feel my arousal returning some in anticipation and I quickly extracted the anal dildo the fox had been wearing, replacing it only a moment later with my own shaft.

"This is where you belong," I cooed to him as I began to slide deeper. "In my bed at night, where I can fuck you however and whenever I want to."

He shivered in agreement. He was still, I saw, not that used to anal, but he was not resisting. He was trying to relax and let me in all the way. He wanted to be used, to be fucked however and whenever I wanted. When I bottomed out, he moaned, loud and hard, the contentment of a job well done.

I waved at the light and it snuffed itself out, leaving us visible only in the starlight coming through the window.

To be honest, neither of us slept all that well that night. I'd keep waking up horny and hard and would push into the fox, which of course would wake him up. And sometimes he would squirm back against me, brushing that tail of his maddeningly over my chest until I couldn't help but fuck him the way he craved. I don't think either of us came that night. But in the morning, when I could no longer ignore the alarm blaring at me to wake up, the first thing I did was pull him onto all fours and fuck him hard.

Corinne checked on us not long after, bringing around a tray of breakfast. The fox dutifully waited for us both to eat before accepting more food from our fingers.

"So," I said when we finished, addressing the fox directly, "how was that?"

He seemed taken aback to be spoken to that way. He shivered and looked from me to Corinne and back again, opening and closing his mouth as if he had forgotten how to speak. "It was... It was wonderful. I wish it could happen again sometime."

"It could," I said. "Right now. Today. Tomorrow. And for as many days after as you want."

He looked surprised, and immediately became thoughtful. I guessed from the way he had written those hovas that he didn't have any strong attachments in his life. He didn't have friends or family or a job that he cared overly for. But there was something holding him back. "What would I do all day, while you're not here? I can't just be waiting all the time. I'll go crazy. I need something to do."

I glanced at Corinne and she nodded encouragingly. "Well, I have been thinking of releasing my own line of adult hovas. It would be helpful to have a writer on hand to craft a proper narrative."

The fox simply smiled and took his place at my feet.