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ZOO – The Wild Life

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

24th September, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

I was a creature of the wild, born to the whisper of leaves in the wind and the soft, constant murmur of the forest. My world was simple—bound by instinct, ruled by the cycle of seasons, and untouched by the hands of men. I knew of them, of course. I had seen their strange places from a distance and smelled their unfamiliar scent in the wind. They had always been a part of a world far removed from mine, a boundary I never thought I'd cross.

Until now.

It started small, like most things do. A single step closer, a moment of curiosity that overruled the caution bred into my kind by the wilds. They left food at the edge of the forest—soft things, sweeter than the rough grass, leaves and bark I was used to. At first, I watched them from the safety of the trees, my heart quickening at the unfamiliar scent. Hunger gnawed at me, and though I knew it was not wise, I took that first step beyond my forest's borders.

The food was easy to reach, and the taste, oh, the taste, was unlike anything I'd ever known. It was sweet and tempting, and something deep within me stirred—a sense of ease, a pleasure that crept into my bones. I returned the next day, each time venturing a little closer to the source of that strange comfort.

And then, they appeared.

The humans.

I froze the first time I saw them up close, muscles tensing beneath my pelt, eyes wide, ears twitching. I was ready to bolt. They stood far away, yet they felt too close, watching me with their narrow eyes that seemed... soft. There was no threat, no aggression in them, only a quiet patience. They did not rush towards me or raise their voices. Instead, they waited, speaking in low tones, sounds my ears could not comprehend, offering their presence like they had offered the food—without demand, without force.

I didn't understand it, but I didn't run. Not yet.

*

Days passed and I grew used to their presence. Slowly, cautiously, I began to trust that they meant no harm. They stayed back, letting me approach on my own accord. Each time, they left something more enticing—a slice of sweet fruit, a handful of soft greens, small piles of delicious yellow seeds. It was always something waiting for me, a silent offering. Each time I returned, my fear diminished, replaced by something my kind had in abundance: curiosity.

One day, I was standing just beyond their reach, close enough to smell the faint scent of them—different from the earth and trees I knew, but not unpleasant to my nostrils. One of them—a female by her scent, with soft hands and a voice like running water—extended her arm toward me. She held a piece of fruit, her palm open and still. I hesitated, my instincts screaming for me to retreat, but I didn't.

The scent of the fruit was too tempting. Slowly, carefully, I stepped forward, my heart thudding in my chest. My nose touched her fingers as I took the offering from her hand, feeling the coolness of her skin against my muzzle. I flinched at the contact, but her hand remained steady, her touch light and nonthreatening.

I chewed and swallowed the fruit, and for the first time, I didn't step back.

Her hand lingered, reaching just a little further. Fingers brushed against the fur of my neck, the contact so gentle, that I barely felt it. But it was there—a touch that sent a shiver down my spine, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. I stood still, my breath shallow, as her hand moved slowly along my neck, stroking the coarse fur.

It was...soothing. Just like my mother's nuzzles had been, when I was a small fawn. My muscles, tense from the closeness, began to relax. She didn't push further, didn't grab at my ears or hold me by my neck—just a soft stroke, a touch that spoke of patience and something I couldn't quite name. When she withdrew her hand, I found myself wanting more.

Each day after that, the touches became more frequent. The humans would greet me with soft murmurs and outstretched hands, offering food and their strange, gentle contact. I no longer flinched when they touched me. In fact, I found myself drawn to it, seeking the comfort that their hands brought me. There was a warmth in their touch, something that eased the ever-present edge of wild tension within me.

They groomed me now—stroking their hands down my back, combing through my fur with their fingers, scratching behind my ears. Oh, how that felt, how it made my knees tremble so! I had never experienced anything like it. The closeness, the care—it was unlike anything I had known in the forest. When they touched me, I felt safe, and secure, as if I belonged to something more than just the wild.

And it wasn't just physical. There was a bond forming, an unspoken connection between us. I trusted them, more and more with each passing day. The wildness within me began to quiet, replaced by the need for their presence, their touch upon me.

There was one human, in particular, who seemed to understand me more than the others. Her hands were always the softest, her voice the most soothing. When she touched me, I felt something deeper stir—an intimacy I had never known amongst my own kind. She would press her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my fur, and I would close my eyes, allowing the sensation to wash over me.

I wanted more. I knew I should not.

*

One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, they led me inside their home for the first time. I wasn't afraid. I trusted them, and loved them, in my own way. Yet the walls were strange, confining, but there was warmth here, a softness I had never experienced before. They guided me to a room where a large, cushioned bed sat in the centre. The woman—the one with the soft hands—sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes inviting but gentle.

She patted the bed, beckoning me forward, and though I hesitated, something inside me urged me to follow. I stepped closer, the floor cool beneath my cloven hooves, until I stood beside her. Again, she fed me delicious slices of the sweet, succulent fruit, watching my black cheek stripe ripple as I gratefully chewed it and swallowed. Slowly, she reached out and stroked my neck, her hand trailing down to my chest. Her touch was firmer now, more confidant, but still tender.

When she guided me onto the bed, I didn't resist. The softness of the fabric beneath me was unlike anything I'd ever felt! It was even more comforting than my usual forest bed, a thick layer of moss I slept on. She lay beside me, her hand resting lightly on my side, her breath warm against my fur. I closed my eyes, the sensation of her touch lulling me into a rare state of calm I had never known.

This was my world now—a world of human hands and soft touches, of warmth and comfort, of treats freely given for my pleasure. The wild was fading, replaced by something new, something deeper.

I welcomed it.

*

Days turned into weeks, and my trips to the human home became more frequent. The forest, once my home, my haven, no longer had the same pull for me, as it once did. The vast, open woods now felt distant—too wild, too harsh compared to the softness of the life I had begun to know. Each visit brought me deeper into that other world, their touch becoming more familiar to me. More desired.

I no longer hesitated when she led me inside the house. The confines of the walls no longer made me feel trapped; instead, they offered me security, warmth, shelter and above all else...safety. Each time she petted me, the warmth of her hands replaced the cool solitude of the wild, making it easier to forget what I once was.

One evening, as dusk painted the sky in the colours of autumn, I found myself lying on the bed beside her again. The routine was familiar now—her hand on my neck, her voice low and soothing, the bed cradling my body in a softness that the forest floor could never offer me. She had begun to speak to me more often, her voice carrying a rhythm that was comforting, though I understood none of her words.

Tonight, though, her touch lingered. Her fingers moved with more intention, trailing from my neck down the length of my body, over the arch of my spine, and lower still. Her touch had always been gentle, but tonight, there was something different in it—something that made me feel... vulnerable, yet safe.

I shifted slightly beneath her hand, unsure of the sensations running through me, but I did not pull away. Her fingers pressed a little harder, her breath coming closer to my fur as she leaned in. Her other hand joined the first, stroking along my side, her touch more intimate than it had ever been before. I felt the warmth of her body against mine, her closeness stirring something inside me—an instinct I could not fully comprehend.

She whispered something, her voice soft in my heart, though I didn't understand the words. All I knew was the feeling of her hands on me, the gentle pressure of her body against my side. And for the first time, I felt myself yielding to it—letting go of the wild that still clung to me.

Her hands moved lower, exploring with a tenderness that felt strangely familiar, as though this was the natural progression of our bond. I closed my eyes, the softness of the bed, her body, and her touch all combined to form a cocoon of warmth that I never wanted to leave.

The next time I arrived at the house, something was different. The woman met me at the door, but there was no food this time, no outstretched hand offering sweet fruits. Instead, she held something in her hands—something small and strange.

I hesitated as she approached, unsure of what she was offering. But she spoke softly, her voice full of reassurance, and my trust in her outweighed my caution. Slowly, she reached out and slipped the object around my neck.

It was tight at first, but not uncomfortable. I blinked, shaking my head slightly as the unfamiliar weight settled against my fur. The woman smiled, her hands stroking my neck, and I realised she had given me something—yet I knew not what.

A collar.

I didn't fully understand its purpose, but I felt a strange sense of belonging as it clicked into place. I was hers now, not in a way that went beyond the touch of her hands or the food she provided. The collar marked me and tied me to her world in a way that I could not undo.

As the weeks passed, I found myself growing accustomed to it. The collar became a part of me, just as much as the bed I slept in and the hands that stroked my fur. It was a sign of my domestication, a reminder that I was no longer fully wild. The forest still existed, somewhere beyond the walls of this house, but it no longer felt like my home.

My home was here, with her.

*

With the collar came a new level of closeness. The touches that had once been tentative and exploratory now grew more intimate, more possessive. Her hands no longer lingered at the surface of my fur; they pressed deeper, seeking out the heat of my body.

I welcomed it.

The bed became our sanctuary—a place where the lines between human and beast blurred. She would lie beside me at night, her body curled against mine, her breath warm and steady against my neck. I had never experienced anything like it, in the wild. The closeness, the heat—it was intoxicating.

Her hands would roam across my body, soft but firm, always finding the places that made me relax, that made me want more.

And more she gave.

There were nights when she would press her forehead to mine, her eyes closed, her fingers tracing the length of my body with a tenderness that made my heart race. It wasn't just about touch anymore; it was about the bond we had formed, the connection that had grown between us over time. I no longer thought of myself as wild, as something separate from her world. I was hers now, in every way that mattered.

And she was mine.

*

It was inevitable, I suppose, that things would go further.

One evening, as we lay together on the bed, her hands found their way to places they had never touched before. There was no hesitation in her movements now, no uncertainty. Her fingers stroked the sensitive fur of my belly, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered to me, her worlds full of affection and something more—something deeper.

I could smell a subtle difference in her scent, but I did not understand. Not then. Anyway.

I tensed at first, the unfamiliar sensations flooding my body. But her hands were gentle, her touch always careful, always mindful of my limits. She was patient, guiding me through the experience that made it impossible for me to resist.

And so, I didn't.

Her fingers caressed and stroked with such gentleness, along my sheath, sending ripples of unexpected sensations through my body. I was young, inexperienced, and an adult, certainly, but I had never experienced the warmth of a doe beneath me, held between my front legs...

I let her explore, let her touch me in ways that stirred something deep inside me—something primal, yet strangely comforting. Her hands were soft, her body warm against mine, and I found myself surrendering to her completely.

When she moved against me, gently placing my foreleg over her shoulder and snuggling in close, murmuring gently and caressing my flank, my side, her other hand coaxing out my length from my sheath, I knew only her touch, her voice, her kindness...

Then it happened...

I bleated when I felt that warmth enfold me completely, down to the furred orbs of my testicles. I couldn't help it.

Instincts, raw, primal, surged—I lost myself to them, and with an awkward snap of my hips, I claimed this doe, as nature intended. My seed flooded into that warmth, I felt it grip me, squeeze me...

Encourage me...

Each time, I gave this strange doe my seed, she groaned and trembled, arching against me, her body trembling, the sweet scent of her sweat—intoxicating. Pheromones I'd never imagined filling my nose, not ones I'd smelt in the forest, no, these were different...but no less overwhelming.

I could not stop.

I did not want to stop.

Her touches grew more intense. As she grabbed me by my hips, grinding herself against me until I bleated in surprise and growing fright, then I felt _it—_that moment when my groin and testicles were both hot and wet at the same time. I did not know what had happened, fear meshed with the unmistakable, overwhelming urges of my instincts.

The wild was gone none, replaced by this new life, this new connection. I had crossed a boundary, one I hadn't even known existed.

But I didn't regret it.

I was no longer a creature of the forest. I was hers.

*

As the weeks turned to months, my transformation became undeniable. The collar around my neck felt like a second skin, a symbol of my acceptance into this new world. I found myself drawn to her in ways I had never imagined possible. The gentle touches and the soft murmurs were no longer just comforting; they ignited a fire within me—a need for closeness, for connection that was deeper than mere physicality.

Even those nights where she would do that to me, even when I couldn't give her my seed, my instincts suppressing my own urges, she still did things to me that left me panting and trembling, helpless, overcome, pleasured...

It was a warm evening when the shift became most palpable. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting its golden gleam through the window as she lay beside me, her fingers dancing over my back. I felt a rush of warmth surge through me, and I shifted closer, instinctively nuzzling against her side, craving her touch.

"Are you ready for something new?" she whispered, her voice low and inviting.

I looked up at her, curiosity mingling with a hint of trepidation. I didn't fully understand her noises, or what they meant, but the warmth in her eyes reassured me. I nodded, then nuzzled her throat, my tongue leaving a glistening trail on her skin. I felt a thrill course through me at the thought of exploring this uncharted territory together.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing against my sides with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down my spine. I could feel my heart racing, a primal response ignited once more by her exploration. She leaned in, her breath warm against my fur, and at that moment, I knew I was ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

That night, everything changed.

The air in the room crackled with tension as she leaned closer, her body pressing against mine, her warmth enveloping me. I could feel the heartbeat in my chest echoing in my ears, a wild rhythm that matched the intensity of the moment.

With gentle hands, she guided me, showing me a new kind of intimacy. I surrendered to her touch, allowing her to lead me further into this world of sensations. Her fingers danced across my body, exploring every curve and contour, every sensitive spot that made me shiver and sigh.

As her hands travelled lower, I felt a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. I had never experienced anything like this, and my instincts flickered, wrestling with the wild nature still lurking within me. But the warmth of her presence calmed my fears, reminding me that I was safe here.

She took her time, her movements slow and deliberate, each stroke igniting new feelings that coursed through my veins. I could feel the tension in my body building, a wave of desire washing over me as I leaned into her touch. This was a journey we were making together, and I was no longer just a wild buck—I was hers, fully and completely.

*

I should have listened to my instincts...

*

One night, as all nights before, we lay together, her taking me inside herself, my tongue licking and slurping, my lips brushing her nipple before ever so tenderly suckling like I once did from my mother's teat. I knew I couldn't get the hot, nourishing milk, but the way she groaned and trembled, the ripples of her depths against my length, the sighs and caresses...

I was addicted to it.

After a time, she gently pushed against me, and my heart broke at the feel of her drawing away, off of me, my urges deep and primal, yet despite it being months from the next rut—she had done the unthinkable. I was spent, my seed given freely and strongly. Her kisses against my neck, the way her lips puckered and gripped at mine... the way she would playfully use her tongue and I would open my muzzle, our tongues colliding, tangling, sharing our breath...

"My buck—" Her words were light, sweet, alluring to my ears. "May I try something with you?"

I flicked an ear, curiosity and confusion in my gaze, the ache in my loins unbearable, but for her, I would wait. I would endure. My heart ached as she rose off the bed, her skin the colour of the full moon, as she vanished into the smaller room for a while. When she returned, there was a new scent to her—a new...

I knew not what it was.

She wore something, that smelt like my collar, except strapped around her hips, her thighs, and what looked like what lay beneath me had suddenly sprouted from that wonderful place between her thighs. She carried something in her hand, what, I knew not, but its strong scent made me twitch and pin my ears back.

Sensing my discomfort, she approached me carefully, then knelt on the bed...behind me. I twisted my head and neck back, eyes wide in confusion and bewilderment, and then I felt her gentle, soothing hand on my back. It stroked backwards, caressing my wedge-like tail. With a tremble, I flicked my tail appreciatively, then I gasped as she gently slipped her fingers under it and pulled ever so gently.

At first, I was confused, but then she did it again, and I understood. I snapped my long tail up, in the alert posture us whitetail had ingrained into our very souls. It was a warning to other deer, of caution—of danger...but I trusted her.

I trusted her...

She did something behind me, where I couldn't see, a chill spreading from beneath my tail, from a place she had never touched before. Then she worked that strange bottle, the scent of its liquid filling my nostrils, blocking out everything except that scent. She made a gesture at her own groin, that she had used with me...a sensual, gentle stroking. Back and forth with her hand. I continued to watch, both curious and growing uncertainty.

Wiping her hands on the bed, she placed a hand on my rump, gently stroking, soothing my fraying nerves.

"Do you trust me?" She asked me, her voice warm, filled with love and comfort.

I bleated, and my ears swished forward, a sign of my devotion and trust. She could do to me as she wished, my love for her was untarnished. I would do anything she asked of me...

I drew a short, sharp breath as something pressed under my tail, against a place it had no right to be. I was, for the first time in a very long time...

Afraid.

It slipped surprisingly easily inside me, just as I, in turn, slipped inside her. It felt...strange, not painful, oh, sure, there was an initial ache from my rump—but whatever that strange stuff was, it took my discomfort away in three beats of my rapid heart. It slowly dawned on me—she was mating with me, as a buck mates with a doe! Yet she was not a buck, I knew that...yet it felt like a buck, slightly larger than I myself, yet gentle, not the wild, savage mating lunge I knew my kind did.

It withdrew...

It slid back inside, easier, slightly deeper, pressing against something inside of me...something that brought me surprise, then pleasure. Her hands rested on my hips, as she ever so gently claimed me as a doe...with whatever this thing was inside of me.

As the foreign sensation pressed against me, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged through my mind and body. My instincts screamed in protest, a primal warning echoing in the back of my mind.

This is wrong!

Or so I thought, a desperate part of me fighting to reclaim control.

I shouldn't be enjoying this. I'm a buck, yet I'm being bred like a doe!

Yet, each gentle thrust sent ripples of pleasure coursing through my body, drowning out the voice of protestation and reason. I felt myself slipping, spiralling into a haze where instinct clashed with desire.

Why does this feel so good?

I pondered, the warmth of her presence drawing me like a moth to a flame. Every thrust pushed me closer to the edge, my body betraying my mind in a dance that I never asked to join.

I shouldn't have done what I did... The thought flickered through my mind like a dying ember, struggling against the tide of sensations overwhelming my senses. I was losing myself, and it terrified me. Yet the pleasure built within me, an insistent pressure that grew stronger with each movement, urging me to surrender fully to this new reality.

I caught glimpses of my reflection in the mirror across the room—my eyes wide, filled with confusion and raw vulnerability. Who was I? This was not just a physical act, it felt like a surrender of my very identity.

I started to enjoy it.

I admitted this to myself, silently, a shameful truth that wrapped around my heart like a vine, squeezing tighter with each thrust that brought me both ecstasy and despair.

Her fingers traced the contours of my body, I was reminded of the tenderness she offered. In those moments, the ache of conflicting desires softened, replaced by a warmth that enveloped me.

She loves me, I realised. Maybe, this is just another form of love, another way to connect.

But the primal instincts rooted deep within me still rebelled. I was a creature of the wild, of the forest, of untamed instinct and raw power. I felt myself caught in a web, ensnared by the very pleasure I craved. Each gentle push against that sacred space within me ignited a flicker of joy mixed with dread—joy for the connection we shared, dread for the transformation it signified.

At that moment, as my body responded with shudders of ecstasy, I felt a profound sense of conflict. I was losing my wildness, yet the bond we had forged was equally intoxicating.

Was it wrong to embrace this? I questioned myself, the turmoil within me raging like a storm. I trust her. The thought surfaced through the chaos, anchoring me amidst the turmoil. Perhaps this wasn't about losing my identity, but reshaping it. I was becoming something new, a blend of the wild buck and the creature of intimacy she had awakened within me.

What does it mean to be hers? The question lingered as I surrendered to the pleasure coursing through my veins, each thrust drawing me deeper into a world I'd never anticipated. Could never have imagined, yet I found myself craving more and more. The sensations became a language all of their own, speaking to parts of me that longed for connection, for understanding.

My tail flagged, and my breathing quickened. My heart pounded not in fear, but in primal arousal and pleasure. Beneath me, my length was ground against the silken blanket and my own belly fur. That incredible pressure—each time she thrust forward, made me tilt my head back and my panting grew louder and louder. I lost myself in the pleasure, and the pain, my mind couldn't decipher one from the other.

Far longer than I had ever bred her, she bred me. At last, I felt the tremors of her body, I smelt her scent, that beautiful burst of her sweat, her pheromones, her release as she ground her hips hard against mine—giving the thing a sharp thrust that took my breath...and caused me to bleat as my own release splattered the bed cover and my belly, beneath me.

It was a beautiful, intoxicating dance—one that brought us both closer together, forging a bond that transcended the boundaries of our worlds. I felt every heartbeat, every breath, and every gentle touch and twitch as a testament to our connection.

The climax was not just an end, but a beginning. In that shared moment, I embraced my new identity, no longer torn between two worlds, I was woven into one vibrant tapestry of passion and belonging.

At that moment, I understood; that this was not just about physical exploration. It was about the love and trust we had built, a bond that would anchor me as I surrendered myself completely to her. I felt her trembling fingers walk up my spine, caress the nape of my neck. Instinctively I turned to gaze back at her, her gentle fingers caressing my chin in ways that were pleasurable and sensual.

My breath was short, panting, my eyes filled with a mixture of confusion yet pleasure, uncertain but trusting. I was caught, trapped in a net of my own making, instinct fighting against what I felt in my heart, my whole body.

"You're mine," she whispered, and for the first time, those words didn't stir fear in my heart, but a deep sense of rightness. I nodded, unable to give rise to the urges within me, the feelings, but in my eyes, she saw everything that I couldn't express.

As she lay down against me, that thing still inside me, she moved gently, pleasurably. My tail fluttered against her naked stomach, my quivers and quiet breaths showing my true feelings. Around me, the word seemed quieter, more focused. I wondered how much had changed with me—if, come morning, I would still see myself in the same way. In this moment, the afterglow of this shared experience, I was certain of one thing: whatever I had become, it was by her side, that I belonged.

*

I have a new collar now. It was put on my neck, but this one is different from my old one. It has scratches on it—letters, I realised after some time.

I still do not know what "Buck Slut" means...

END