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“It's, like, a party drug," Marshall blathered. She dangled a plastic baggy in front of her fox's face; swollen, filled with little pink pills. Smiley faces were emblazoned on each. Packed within a thin layer of cellophane, they beckoned for the fox's tender tongue.

Inari, however, acted unimpressed. “I know what ecstasy is," he said. With a disinterested stare, he gazed at his impressionable lover. “My ex took it once. He ended up running through his college dorm naked. It can be really intense."

Marshall rolled her eyes at the cautionary tale. “Ohhhh my god," she bemoaned. “Who are you, D.A.R.E? I paid good money for this." She gave a sly grin. “The least you could do is try it with me. We'll come up together!" And, walking her fingers up Inari's arm, she added: “Plus, I hear it makes sex… transcendental."

“Transcendental?" Inari smiled. “What a nice vocabulary word. Did you finally read a book?"

“Shut up!" Marshall barked, then laid a playful punch on his arm. “Come on, huh? Have some fun for once. We haven't done something like this in months. And I've been so boooored."

The two sat on a faded yellow couch, tattered by Inari's past transformations. Scratches criss-crossed its plush surface. Fluff poked from the slits like wounds. Truthfully, the sight of those marks always made Inari wary; the last time he'd transformed into a werefox, he'd nearly accidentally killed Marshall. Ever since then, he'd avoided such occasions… even if the feral sex was mind-blowing.

“I just worry," Inari said. He traced circles on the couch with his fingertip. “I can control my powers now, but only when I'm sober. I'm afraid that I'll hurt you again if I'm… yaknow, intoxicated."

Marshall crossed her arms, visibly pouted. “Oh, whatever. Did a little bite ever kill anyone?" she asked.

“Yeah," Inari replied. “It almost killed you."

“But it didn't!" Marshall shot back.

“Well, it'd kill most people."

“Bandwagon fallacy."

Inari grimaced. He took a deep breath, then said: “I just don't want to hurt you, Marshall. I know you're tough, but I still worry about you."

Marshall frowned in response, then lowered her blouse's collar; from their last encounter, scars still remained on her chest, abdomen, and neck. She said: “I wear these scars with pride, you know. They make me feel like a total bad bitch."

“Marshall…"

“Plus, they remind me of my adorable pathetic husband!" Crossing her legs, Marshall then leaned forward, planted her hands on Inari's legs. Her mouth was close to Inari's now; her breath warmed his chin. And she sniped: “So stop being such a little bitch, okay? If you trust me, then you'll have some fun with me tonight. Simple as that!"

Inari then took a moment to gaze into Marshall's eyes; those excitable, naive, bratty eyes. Despite her sharp words, he could sense an earnest desire within Marshall. In truth, she didn't just want to submit to Inari's advances; she wanted to be forced to submit, even if that meant being drugged. Every little snipe, every passive aggressive remark, was designed for that purpose. And moreover, it made Inari feel ravenous.

Nonetheless, the boy kept his cool. He said: “I dunno… if I agree to take this stuff, will you shut up?"

Marshall flashed a mischievous grin. “I dunno," she said. “Why don't you try me?"

“Fine." And like an expectant child, Inari outstretched his palm. “Just give me one. And then, if I'm feeling up to it, I might fuck your brains out. How's that sound?"

The girl nodded. And, unwrapping the little baggie, she breathed: “Well, it's a good start. But don't think you're off the hook yet." And, fingering around within the cellophane, she revealed two little pills. They appeared identical – pinkish-reddish in hue, with rounded edges. It almost looked like ibuprofen.

“They should make these look more… dangerous," Inari said. He gingerly picked one of the pills, inspected its surface. Its little smiley face mirrored his own. He said, “Are we gonna take these now?"

Marshall scoffed. “Why not?" she teased. And without even looking at it, she popped the pill into her mouth. It slid down her throat with ease. And she chirped: “Wow, I expected that to taste worse."

Inari, too, swallowed his pill. It scoured his tongue. “Really?" he asked, reaching for his water. “Mine tasted terrible. Super bitter." And, lifting his phone, leaning against the sofa's arm, he said: “I'm gonna look up how long this takes to kick in."

Marshall, however, seemed quite perturbed. She asked, “What do you mean, it tasted bad?"

“The ecstasy tasted really bitter," Inari muttered. His eyes were fixed on his phone. “I mean, it's not like these pills are meant to taste good, anyhow."

A moment of silence ensued. As Inari scrolled on his phone, Marshall inspected her little baggie. She unravelled the plastic, then closely examined each tiny pill. As she stared, her expression became more intense; and with an audible gulp, she said: “Uh, Inari?"

“Hm?"

“I have some bad news."

Inari looked up from his phone. He asked: “What is it?"

And, embarrassedly, clutching her hands innocently before her face, Marshall asked: “Promise you won't be mad?"

The werefox could already feel his fangs growing in anticipatory frustration. And, curling his hands tightly around his phone, he asked: “What did you do?"

“I… uh…" Marshall squirmed. “I accidentally took the wrong pill."

Inari raised an eyebrow; his tail swatted against the couch. “So what did you take?"

And, like a dog who had eaten plastic, Marshall looked away and admitted: “A roofie."

“Fucking rohypnol?" Inari spat. “How did you even make that mistake?" He then paused, added: “Wait, why would you carry around two similar-looking drugs in the same bag?"

Marshall simply shrugged and replied: “Oh, god forbid I use less plastic."

The fox then threw his hands into the air. Exasperated, his eyes squeezed shut, he said: “So, let me get this straight. While I'm on the come-up, you'll be on the come-down?"

And with puckered lips, Marshall replied: “...Yeeeaah." And, gigging, she added: “Don't worry, Inari. I'll still be, like, totally functional. We'll have a great time together anyway."

“Yeah?" Inari asked.

“Yeah."

---

Thirty minutes later, the couple's mutual intoxication had begun. A sense of great calm spread throughout Inari's arms, his legs, his chest; a flowing golden river of endorphins slowly overtook him. It felt good.

Staring wordlessly at the television screen, Inari could feel his mind shifting. Like a liquid in a cup, it seemed to mold to his skull, entering a state of utmost tranquility – of ecstasy.

“Woah, dude." The voice came from Inari's side – Marshall, her eyes dizzy, her arms heavy. She gently touched his arm, said: “You look super tripped out, dude."

Inari gave an easy smile. And he said, “Really?"

“You got that… foxy thing going on." Marshall raised two fingers above her head, like ears. And she joked: “Oh grandma, what sharp teeth you have."

And, in disbelief, Inari traced his fingers along his face. Indeed, Marshall was right – without him even knowing, his body had begun to transform. Upon his head sat two fluffy white ears, twitching like satellites, searching for any disturbance. And beneath those thick, soft lips laid a newfound set of fangs; razor sharp, pearly, poking from his maw. A thin layer of snow-colored peach fuzz sprouted from his skin, traced down his body, and emerged as a plume of fur around his pelvic region; and above his butt wagged an obnoxiously fluffy tail.

“Fuck," Inari yipped. “I didn't even notice."

Marshall laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?" she joked. “Most of the time, when you transform, you're barely able to speak. You get all… predator-y."

And, mind tinged with fuzz, Inari joked: “Well, something is different this time. Who knows? Maybe I've been domesticated."

The two shared a good laugh at that. And lazily, Marshall's head leaned against the sofa's arm, her arms outstretched, she said: “I bet you couldn't even wrestle me like this."

Inari chuckled. He said, “You wanna bet?"

“Yeah," Marshall teased. “I bet that the ecstasy mellowed you out. Like… you're just a stupid pathetic dog now. Arms like wet noodles, too."

An electric shock shot through Inari's chest – his ego. Like a fire lit under his ass, he leaned forward, asked: “Yeah? Is that what you think?"

The brat nodded. “Mhm. I think you're a tiny baby kit who can't even lift a leaf," Marshall said. She then thought for a moment more. “And you're a stupid man-whore."

The comment made Inari simultaneously amused and aroused. And, lifting himself onto his knees, his body light as a feather, he said: “Oh yeah? Well… would a stupid man-whore do this?" And, without asking, he then straddled Marshall's body, one hand on either side; hovering his face above hers, he gazed deeply into her half-lidded eyes.

Inari teased, “Alright, you wanted to wrestle. So… what are you gonna do now?"

“Um, maybe get away from you?" Marshall shot back. And she outstretched her arms, attempting to push Inari away. “Get off me, stupid mutt. You have dog breath. It stinks."

But Inari didn't budge. Frankly, he was amazed by how weak the roofie had made Marshall; her usual reflexes, her strength, was completely sapped. Inari's faculties, however, were unexpectedly enhanced.

“You look delicious like this," Inari breathed. His claws sunk into the sofa in anticipation. Colors swirled across his field of vision, Marshall's body reduced to a technicolor blur. He muttered: “Your body looks so soft."

“And you look like a doofus," Marshall sniped. She let out an absent giggle, her head lolled to the side, uncontrollably smiling. “Who let you out of the dog park, huh? Someone ought to leash you."

Inari was struck by a pang of embarrassment; but it quickly melted, replaced with utter drunkenness. Excitement. Sadistic joy. The girl underneath him was rapidly deteriorating – her mind slowed, her words barely strung together. Inari could destroy her. Right here, right now.

“Tonight… I'm going to make you mine," Inari threatened. “I just decided that."

Marshall flashed a coy smile; and through squinted eyes, she said: “Yeah?"

“Yeah." And, as if touching a sacred object, Inari laid his paw against Marshall's pristine, upturned cheek. His flesh seemed to melt into hers, their skin becoming one, moving, churning. Subconsciously, his fingers wriggled closer to her mouth, closer, until –

“Ew!" Marshall spat. Snapping her head to the side, she edged her mouth away from Inari's encroaching hand. She ordered: “Get your dirty paws away from me, mutt. I don't know where those have been."

Normally, Inari would have simply been aroused by such outright rebellion; but today, he felt something different. His brain, fried in the best way, was suddenly overrun with the desire to tear Marshall apart; to humiliate her, to wreck her, to reduce her to a shivering pile of half-hearted words and whines. Each touch of her flesh was electric against his palm.

So, ignoring Marshall's pleas, he wriggled his fingers to her lips. Marshall writhed underneath his imposing, furry frame.

“Oh, fuck off!" Marshall barked. “You know I hate shit in my mouth. Cut it out!" And desperately, she attempted to pry Inari from her body; she grabbed at his arm, pushed it away, and kicked at Inari's stomach. She was surprised to learn, however, that Inari's abdomen had transformed into a rock-hard mass; she could just barely see a set of newfound abs beneath his shirt.

Marshall was shocked at the sight. Normally, Inari's shapeshifting had made him stronger, sure… but not this strong. Her gaze then shifted downward to his arms, just barely able to focus on his rippling biceps; indeed, his entire body was more muscular than usual. Marshall's breaths shook.

“I–Inari?" she asked. “Are you, um, okay?"

The werefox replied with an easygoing smile. “Never felt better," he said. His eyes wild, his stare unbreaking, he let hot breaths cascade past his pointy incisors. “Now that I think about it… I don't think I've ever felt so powerful," he continued. His pointed nails traced along the edges of Marshall's lips. “And I feel so in-control, too. I… I feel like I could take on the world."

Beneath her fiery mien, Marshall was frightened by Inari's unfettered confidence. Like a dam breaking, the ecstasy had allowed his emotions to become completely unfettered. All that desire which he kept inside himself was now spilling out, haywire. Marshall gave an uneasy smile.

So she said: “Tell you what. Why don't you take your dumb little fox paws away from my face, and we can talk about your, um…" Momentarily, she lost her train of thought. The drugs made her mind fuzzy, melty, warm. “...your powers," she continued. “So we can talk about your… powers."

“Talking?" Inari teased. “Why would I talk about my powers when I can use them?"

And with a flick of his fingers, Inari wrapped his nails around Marshall's lips. For Marshall, the sensation felt miles away; a tiny prick as her mouth parted, her teeth meeting those thinly furred fingers with apprehensive disdain. Without even processing what happened, her tongue began to thrash, her teeth gnashing, as she attempted to dislodge the intrusion; but she failed.

Through a full mouth, Marshall threatened: “Get thosh fingersh out or I'll kill you."

And then, like a fish on a hook, she bit down on Inari's fingers… hard. On any other day, it would've been hard enough to break skin. But, much to Inari's surprise, her teeth failed to even make a dent in Inari's flesh. Soft yet strong, Inari's fingers pressed down upon Marshall's distended tongue, grazed along her sharp molars. It was then that Inari realized: He could do whatever he wanted.

“You can't hurt me," he said, almost to himself. With his pointer and thumb, he easily gaped Marshall's jaw; the drugged girl, despite her best efforts, couldn't hold it shut. Her helplessness utterly embarrassed her; once more, she tried to pry her beloved's arms. And once more, she failed.

Inari wore a manic grin. Desire swelled in his groin with each sweep of his pointer finger, each drop of saliva coalescing upon his paw pads. Before him was the most beautiful woman in the world: incapacitated, woozy, weak. He remembered all the times Marshall had insulted him, belittled him, dominated him. For once, the tables were turned.

Inari grinned. He was going to enjoy this.

Deftly, the werefox slipped his hand from her mouth. And as he fumbled with his pants, Marshall greedily gulped dry, warm air. And with her first unfettered breath, she said: “Ugh. You smell like wet dog, you stupid mutt." A little cough. “Now get off of me, huh? You're fucking heavy with all that stupid muscle."

Inari, however, had other plans. “Just shut up," he muttered. And, lowering his maw to hers, he licked greedily at his chops. “You look too delectable for me to stop," he growled. “I want to taste every bit of you tonight."

“Yeah?" Marshall shot back. And, raising the limpest middle finger known to man, she said: “How about you taste this? Idiot."

And unexpectedly, Inari obliged. He withdrew himself from Marshall's face, allowing his long vulpine tongue to loll from his maw, and wrapped it around her outstretched finger. That slithering organ coiled and stretched, coating her flesh in warm saliva; even in her daze, Marshall was struck by the absurdity of the gesture. Blush rising to her cheeks, she barked: “Hey, mutt. What the hell are you doing?"

Inari, however, wasn't done flexing his prowess. He pulled Marshall's soft finger into his wet, warm mouth; and, gazing down at Marshall with those piercing yellow eyes, he allowed her fingertip to graze his incisors, his molars, his ribbed palate. As he removed Marshall from himself, a thin strand of spittle connected the two.

Her head as light as a feather, Marshall sputtered: “F–for a stray dog, you sure know how to work your tongue." A little chuckle, and then: “Now use that tongue somewhere better, huh? Last time I checked, my clit isn't on my finger."

Inari gave a mischievous smile. And, once more craning himself over Marshall, he planted his maw against her lips; a chaste kiss for such a feral beast.

That restraint, however, didn't last long. Inari planted himself against her mouth again, again, again, ignoring the girl's pleas. Her protests were smothered by Inari's rabid lust.

“F–fuck you!" Marshall choked. “Get your dirty tongue away from me!"

But Inari only intensified his efforts. His tongue slipped from between those soft lips, snaked itself inside Marshall's mouth. The sensation was absolutely revitalizing – his whole body tingling, his head spinning, Inari found himself penetrating the love of his life. Those beautiful frightened eyes urged him forward; as much as he adored Marshall, he needed to see her spirit broken. He desired to see her sputtering, choking, every little bratty remark fleeing her consciousness. He wanted not only to love her, but to own her.

The ecstasy intensified these feelings, made them bubble to the surface. His breaths heavy, Inari shoved himself further inside, his tongue dancing with Marshall's; and eventually he snaked past it, lapping at the base of her tongue, the surfaces of her teeth, every inch of her insides.

Marshall could hardly breathe now; frantic breaths puffed from her nose, periodically clogged by Inari's tongue. Every little gasp was tinged with saliva, wracked with sputters. Wide-eyed, she punched at Inari's chest. But each blow of her bowed fists landed with an unimpressed thump, left those tired arms slinking away in defeat. Desperately, she wanted to spit vitriol, to punish this mutt for even daring insinuate dominance over her… but she couldn't. Not anymore.

Still inside her, Inari opened his eyes, only to be met with the tie-dye swirl of Marshall's violet irises. He could feel himself getting lost in them; those little flecks of hazel swirling into her pupils like a whirlpool. And her eyes drifted upward, rolling toward her skull, that pesky consciousness coming undone as she submitted to the beast.

Snapping back to reality, Inari realized Marshall wasn't getting enough oxygen. Hurriedly, sloppily, he retracted his tongue from Marshall's throat; and from that gaping mouth came a wet gurgling, followed by an aggressive cough. Finally, Marshall was able to sit upward; and up came a torrent of saliva, no doubt dripped down her trachea by the mutt laying on top of her. For a moment, Inari felt a pang of embarrassment.

“Sorry," he muttered. His eyes remained fixated on Marshall's blubbering pink lips. The ecstasy was messing with his vision. For just a moment, he thought: Those are the pinkest lips I have ever seen.

Marshall, however, was irate. “What do you think you're – ack! – doing?" she spat. “Are you trying to kill me, you stupid mongrel? Huh?" Another cough; saliva dribbled down her chin, wiped away by her shirt sleeve. “You c–can't control yourself! Do I need to house train you?"

Inari was surprisingly amused by the girl's resilience. “You're still not broken?" he asked. He was almost in disbelief. “Most people would be out of their minds after such a tongue lashing."

The comment inflated Marshall's pompous ego. “Oh yeeeah?" she replied, her head swimming. “Well, um… I'm not most people, so…"

“That's right," Inari cooed. He ran his claws through Marshall's ruddy hair, watched as it flowed over his fingers like water. “You're not like most people. You're better."

Marshall scoffed, crossed her arms. “Are you degrading me or praising me?" she asked. A screwy frown stretched across her wet face.“I'm getting some m–mixed signals…"

As always, the girl's flippant nature only made Inari laugh. “Believe it or not," he said, “everything I've done tonight has been an act of worship for you."

“Oh. Ha, ha," Marshall replied sardonically. “Yeah, your… um… tongue definitely tasted like worship."

Inari let out a guffaw. His paw shifted to Marshall's pristine porcelain cheek, grazed along its surface. He could hardly believe how soft her skin was. “I love you," he said. The words escaped his lips before he could even process them. “I love you so much. I want nothing more than to own you."

If Marshall wasn't blushing before, she was now. The sudden saccharine remark caught her off-guard. And, unable to decide between an insult and a compliment, she simply replied: “I–I love you too… even if you're just a dumb animal."

Inari smiled. He joked: “You can insult me all you want. Tonight, I'm keeping your mouth full." Flinging his pants and underwear to the side, flipping his shirt over his head, he added: “From now on, you're going to do what I say. Understood?"

Gazing up at her captor, Marshall was met with the sight of a god. Through her blurred vision, her slumped head, she saw piercing slitted eyes; a set of rippling abs, covered in show-white fur; a power-hungry grin; a black, wet, twitching nose; and a throbbing pink cock, below which his virile balls churned.

And despite all of that, despite witnessing her impending punishment, despite her hazy consciousness, Marshall sarcastically quipped: “Y–your dick looks smaller than usual. Transformation didn't do you any favors." She cracked a sly grin, let loose a nervous chuckle. “Horny little beast… you always come begging to me."

“Usually," Inari shot back. He appeared unphased by Marshall's petty sniping. “But by tonight's end, you'll be begging for me."

The beast then scooted himself upward, planting his plump ass upon Marshall's breasts. His dick throbbed against her upturned chin, dripping precum over her pristine skin. Marshall could smell the musk dripping from his needy prick; it enticed her forward, made her want to kiss every inch of it. But true to her nature, Marshall resisted the temptation. “I'm not letting that thing anywhere n–near me," she slurred. She laughed at her own drunkenness. “Go rut… whatever foxes rut, stupid."

Inari ignored her comments. Calmly, effortlessly, he pried her jaws open once more; with only two fingers, any meager resistance was immediately quelled. And, as if tasting a forbidden fruit, Inari slowly edged himself closer to Marshall's mouth. First, surmounting her chin, then slipping tenderly between those plump, pink lips. The warmth of her mouth made Inari gasp; his entire lower half was wracked with euphoric warmth. Immediately, he knew: This was the best sex he'd ever had.

And much to her chagrin, Marshall thought similarly; each insult she slung, each feeble show of resistance, was utterly quashed under Inari's strength. Her arms were now pinned under Inari's thighs; with every thrust of his groin, Marshall could feel those tendons flexing, churning. Utterly sandwiched between his thighs, she could hardly even move her head. Overwhelmed.

The scent of Inari's dick was like a punch to the nose; that signature bitter, sweaty, earthy scent, characteristic of his heat. It was humiliating to know that she was being used by a sweaty, smelly beast… and furthermore, there was nothing she could do about it. She hated the feeling of cock in her mouth, anyhow. Hell, she didn't even know if Inari would fit.

So like a child refusing food, Marshall attempted to dislodge Inari from her mouth; but the lashings of her wet tongue only enticed Inari further. “Just like that," the werefox breathed. He then sucked in air through his teeth, said: “Keep licking like that. Fuck…"

Inari was fully inside her now; his wet, twitching glans pressed against Marshall's palate, leaked down her throat. Sticky, sour liquid wetted the girl's tongue, pumped downward by Inari's cock. Nothing could hold him back; not her teeth, her tongue, or her voice. Every protest was transformed into a pathetic whine, a half-formed objection snuffed out by his sweat-coated flesh. She couldn't believe that such a dumb animal had forced his way fully inside; if there were a god, she would have begged for divine intervention.

Furthermore, Inari's body felt warm; very warm. Bending himself completely over Marshall's head, he harshly gripped the sofa's arm, ripping the upholstery which laid an inch from Marshall's ears. The captive girl could hear the fabric rip; it aroused her more than she'd have liked to admit.

Marshall could hear, too, the quick thwap-thwap-thwap of Inari's tail against the sofa's backside. With every thrust, his big dumb tail flopped happily, his tongue lolling from his maw, his head thrown back with a big dumb grin. Marshall was right about one thing: when he transformed, Inari did act like a dumb mutt.

“Fuck," he breathed. He slid himself up to the hilt, his testicles churning against the poor girl's chin. “M–Marshall, you feel amazing. Just… just keep still."

Naturally, Marshall only squirmed more. She bucked her chest forward, flailed her arms, attempting to escape by any means; but alas, her movements were sluggish. She could hardly even grasp Inari's arms anymore. Everything was much too fuzzy. Inari's cock plunged down her throat again, again, again. Every jackhammer thrust of his hips made Marshall whine and squeak.

“I've never heard you make these sounds before," Inari teased. Below him laid a beautiful work of art: Marshall's face, plastered with an absent expression. Little spindles of precum dripped from her nose, leaked from her lips. The sight made Inari throb against the back of her throat, spurting precum down the back of her tongue.

And, flashing a dastardly smile, Inari decided to have some fun. He retracted himself from Marshall's mouth – it took three seconds to slide the entire thing out – and hovered himself above the girl's face, gripping the base of his cock like a bludgeon. Marshall coughed up globs of lust-tinged saliva.

“I was thinking," Inari said. “Maybe you and I could play a little game. What do you think about that?"

Predictably, Marshall wasn't quite amenable. Clinging to the last vestiges of her dignity, her eyes wide, her mouth unbearably wet, she spat: “Why would I ever, um… ever agree to anything y–you say?"

“Bzzzzt!" Inari said. And, raising a chunky finger in the air, he teased: “Wrong answer. I'll give you one more chance. Why don't you and I play a little game, hm?"

“Fuck… you."

Inari smacked his lips. “Wrong answer… again." Lining his dick up with her mouth, he then added: “You're really bad at this. Try a little harder next time, hm?"

And thus, Marshall's punishment began. Inari's hips gyrated against those wet plump lips and delved deeper beyond. Those churning balls muffled any insults which dribbled from her occupied tongue. Marshall could feel her throat being stretched wide, her jaw near-unhinged from the girth of Inari's cock; and just as his thrusting reached its apex, Inari removed himself once more from her mouth. Inari met Marshall's absent stare with a hearty smile.

“Let's start again," Inari announced. His vision swam with color and light. His limbs were floating. “I'm going to ask you one simple question, and you're going to answer me honestly. Okay?"

Marshall was holding back tears now; cathartic, salty tears. Her lips trembled. And she nodded – a barely perceptible nod, the first time she'd even considered cooperating that night. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she could feel her mind unraveling at the seams. All those bratty quips which shielded her fragile ego had begun to melt.

“Good," Inari said. Bolstered by Marshall's cooperation, he gripped her ruddy hair, held it like a leash in his right paw. “Tonight's big question is… who is your master, Marshall?"

The question struck Marshall like a freight train. The girl had never once called anyone her master before. Truthfully, she didn't know if her ego could take it; however, she was equally unsure as to whether she could resist the temptation. Saliva pooled in her jaw, skewed uncontrollably to the side; her arms and legs had nearly lost all feeling. All the control she once held was gone.

“Go on," Inari said. His grip tightened around her hair, eliciting a little yelp from Marshall's loose vocal cords. Shaking his grip a little, he growled: “Say it. Tell me who your master is, and maybe I'll consider not punishing you."

Marshall sputtered and spat. She couldn't believe how weak she'd become. Her body floundered like a poisoned animal, her jaw jabbering meaningless nothings. “P–please no," she whined. The usual disgust which tinged her tone was entirely gone, replaced with raw desperation. “No, please…"

“Come on," Inari teased. He pulled upward, dangled Marshall's head. “It's just one little sentence. You've said plenty worse before." He shook her gently. “Come on. We don't have all day."

But, predictably, that roofie was kicking Marshall's ass. The world spun around her; copies of Inari's toothy maw flashed across her field of vision. It felt like she was floating on a cloud; every smack of her lips reminded her that her mouth was full of Inari's lust. And, without thinking, her lips parted.

“You're my… masterrrr," Marshall slurred. “You're my master. Inari…"

Equal measure delirium and adoration danced across her eyes. The ceiling lamp behind Inari's imposing frame cast a halo around his head; she could hardly feel him pulling at her hair anymore. Heavenly light refracted through his white fur; a pristine drop of precum glistened on the tip of his cock. Inari twitched.

“Again," he growled. He could hardly believe he was hearing those words from Marshall's mouth. His chest heaved. “Say it again."

“Master…"

Inari's biceps bulged. Drool trailed from his maw. “Again."

Marshall gurgled on her own spit. “Inari… you're m–my master. I love you." She coughed. “I love you. I love… love you.“ And with a weak grip, she somehow maneuvered her hand to his thigh; and she admitted: “I want you to use me."

Inari didn't need to be ordered; he could hardly resist, anyhow. “Congratulations," he growled. “You won the game, dear. But… it's a shame that your reward is the same as your punishment." He gripped the base of his cock, held it like a shepherd's cane above the incapacitated girl's face. “Just know I'm doing this because I love you. Alright?"

And so the final stretch began. Marshall's jaw gaped, helpless; and into it slid that immense wet rod, throbbing eagerly against her tongue, filling her with love. Limp, helpless, Marshall's head remained upraised by her hair, her throat transformed into the most perfect fleshlight Inari had ever used.

“Just like that," the beast cooed. His tail wagged eagerly behind. “Just like that… keep your tongue like that…"

Marshall's eyes began to drift and cross. Her arms shook, her shoulders bucking to and fro with every thrust of Inari's pelvis. The taste of his lust overwhelmed her. Sweat, musk, sour liquid pumping down the back of her throat. Her jaw creaked and stretched and over and over. Each retraction from her insides allowed her the slightest gasp of air, tinged with mucus and saliva. She had never tasted something so unexpectedly delectable.

“Marshall…" Inari growled. Under his breath, he muttered her name. Marshall, Marshall, Marshall. He was obsessed with her. He loved her voice, her figure, her mind… every part of her, he needed to own. He needed to take her body as his own. His mate, now and forever.

Inari's hips bucked faster. The thought of fucking his mate's mouth made him frantic. He couldn't stop pumping himself inside. The boy was reduced to a snarling, feral beast; all inhibitions which once anchored him to reality fell away, replaced by a manic desire to breed. Heaven existed, and it was inside his lover's mouth.

“I love you," the animal whined. Pleasure mounted between his loins. “I love you. I love you so much."

Inari dissociated from his body. Like an automaton, he felt his body taken over by pure primal instinct. His pleasure mounted with every lap of Marshall's sloppy tongue. His girth filled her mouth in its entirety, but he didn't care. He needed her.

Marshall began to sputter and choke. Lust leaked down her trachea, nearly plugged her windpipe. Foamy spittle leaked from the edges of Marshall's mouth. Her eyes rolled back. She was suffocating again.

“Marshall," Inari called. His movements were feverish. Pleasure mounted in his groin. “Marshall, I… agh!"

And with that exclamation, he shoved himself as deeply as he could inside of Marshall's throat. Load after load of sticky, white love then shot from his throbbing glans as his soft balls churned against Marshall's chin. As if it were reflex, the girl greedily swallowed all of it; hunched above her, Inari wore a big dumb grin, panting, his hips twitching. His tail thwapped happily against the couch. It was, single handedly, the most romantic moment he had ever experienced.

That moment, however, fled rather quickly. Unable to hold her breath any longer, Inari let out a mighty sneeze; an unholy mixture of cum and spit. Then, nothing; no breaths. The silence snapped Inari from his pleasured stupor.

“Fuck," he breathed. “Oh, please don't die on me."

Inari's cock slid from Marshall's mouth with a satisfying pop. And like uncorked champagne, a torrent of semen shot from Marshall's convulsing insides. Turning her head to the side, it flowed onto the couch in a shallow, white-tinged puddle; it was definitely going to leave a stain. Relief then washed over Inari as he then heard his lover's breaths; shallow, wet, but present. He hugged her close.

And with his head in the crook of Marshall's neck, Inari quipped: “Fuck. We're definitely gonna need another couch."

Marshall replied with a weak moan. Her body was completely slack now; her head sloshed to and fro, as if filled with liquid. Her vision swam in it. Inari frowned.

Suddenly gentle, the beast simply said: “We need to get you cleaned up." And retracting from the sticky mess that was his lover's body, he looked around, added: “I'm gonna bring you to the bathroom. Try not to get too much cum on me."

Marshall could hardly manage a nod. Her blank eyes simply stared at the ceiling, her buxom chest rising and falling. Softly, Inari laid his hands under her back, lifted her to his chest; and like a baby, he carried her limp body to the bathtub. Soon enough, warm water flowed from the silver faucet and fled over Marshall's body. Warm light reflected from the water's sudsy surface. Inari sat patiently by the bathtub's side; like a colossus, his beastly frame loomed over his lover's tiny body. His hand securely clasped hers.

“That water seems warm enough now," Inari remarked. Lazily, he gathered a towel, then gave Marshall a once-over. Her eyes looked like little pearls. She gazed wordlessly at her owner as he began to scrub.

The werefox grinned. “What?" he asked. “You look like you wanna say something, honey."

And indeed, Marshall did. But her jaws simply wouldn't cooperate; as if muzzled, she whined uselessly while Inari's calloused paws gently swabbed up and down her neck. Suds burgeoned from between his fingers.

“Keep still, baby," he cooed. “I don't want to poke a vein by accident." And, taking a brief glance at his sharp fingernails, he added: “Seriously, they're way too sharp. I should be wearing oven mitts."

Marshall didn't seem to mind the danger, though. She loved that wet, soft fur against her flesh. Cum sloughed from her skin and floated like little islands in the bath water. As gently as he could, Inari wiped that thin crust of lust from her lips, her chest, her cheeks. He couldn't believe how supple her skin was; one wrong move and he'd open her up.

“I love you, you know," Inari cooed. He pulled stray flecks of cum from her beautiful hair. “You did really well for me today. I'm proud of you for trusting me like this."

Marshall returned the sentiment with an absent smile. And through trembling lips, she whispered: “I looove youuuu."

Inari gave a playful snarl. “Ah," he breathed. “First words you've uttered in a while." And, thinking a bit more, he reached to the side and said: “Here's some water, hun. You must be parched."

The werefox then raised the plastic bottle to Marshall's lips; the girl nearly drank the entire thing in one go. Inari took the bottle away before she could finish.

“Woah, woah," he warned. “Be careful, honey. If you drink it too fast, you might vomit." Replacing the bottle onto the floor, he asked: “Are you alright, baby?"

Marshall smacked her lips, flopped her head to the side. She whispered: “Tired."

“I know, baby." The bath's bubbles swirled and coalesced in Inari's vision, melting together. He ignored it. And, locked eyes with Marshall, he said: “you know, I had the best sex of my life tonight."

The assertion made Marshall giggle. Exhaustedly, she asked: “Really?"

“Yeah."

Marshall let out a satisfied hum. “Honestly? Me too," she admitted.

Shuffling his feet like an excited schoolgirl, Inari asked: “So, um… do you have any more of those pills?"

“Yeah."

“Can we do this again tomorrow?"

Marshall smiled. “Sure," she muttered. “With you, I'll do it any time."