The next night is chilly. Her fox breath leaves trails of mist in the air as she sits looking into his room. To Yoko’s surprise, he left the window open. She watches his chest rise and fall. She needs to explain that she is a captive, but the contract won’t let her. ‘Besides, why would he want to listen to me? I attacked him…. I have to try.’
Yoko scurries into the house, transforming and partially closing the window behind her. She stands naked in his room. The cold air making her nipples instantly and uncomfortably hard, she looks around and finds a discarded t-shirt lying on the ground. She brings it to her nose and smells it. ‘How does he smell so good?’ she thinks.
She slips the shirt on, and then she moves to him and sits next to him. The contract was tugging gently at her.
She touches his face and the bandages covering his cheek. Her tears fall. ‘I am a dangerous monster; I don’t deserve love,’ she thinks to herself.
She sits examining his face till her tears drip on his cloth bandages. She wishes that she had magical tears to fix her mistake, but kitsune tears are just salty.
She climbs in bed next to him, her face nuzzled tightly to his. “I am sorry. I should go. It’s not fair of me to use you like this.”
“Use me?” he whispers, slowly opening his unbandaged eye; he swivels it to look at her.
“Don’t look at me,” she panics, the contract threatening to throw her out the window. the bonds squeezing at her, “Please don’t look at me.”
He looks away, and the pull lessens.
“Yes, use you,” she cries, touching his chest, her silent tears no longer silent. She beats on his chest softly with her fists. “I just want to be with you. Always I wanted a life. I want to be held and….” She loses her ability to speak as she is overcome with emotion.
He stares out the open window while she breathes hard, her small body heaving on the edge of insanity. Her hair tousled in the outburst revealed she doesn’t have ears like a human; instead, they are up higher. Pointed and covered in soft orange fur with their inner velvety whiteness. She fights to slow her tears as she accepts he isn’t upset with her.
He pats the spot she likes to sleep. “I have to sleep. Will you stay? We can make the world right in the morning.”
“I can’t,” she whispers. Her hands holding her head. The contract is dragging and squeezing her. ‘I don’t want to go; don’t make me,’ she thinks, starting to pull away from him.
That is until He wraps an arm around her, the contract and its chains weakening at his touch.
She holds him tight, her heart racing, ready for the contract to yank at her with its full strength at any second. But he puts a hand on her head and gently strokes her ears. She blushes and wipes her tears away.
“I can’t stay…” She whispers as she slowly passes out, and when she does finally fall asleep, she turns into a fox. He carefully sets his hands down and falls asleep.
The next morning she is still there when he wakes. Her small furry body curled up on his butt. “Yoko,” he calls out.
“Yoko, move over,” he says, careful not to touch her.
She opens one eye and moves to the side of the bed.
He showers and dresses, then goes down to the communal kitchen.
He hums a soft tune as he makes breakfast: thick pancakes and omelets. Happily humming He walks past the landlady’s room.
The door opens.
“I heard you crying in the night, and now you have brought me pancakes?” She opens a new pack of cigarettes. “Oh, that’s so sweet, so she did break up with you?” She lights her cigarette. “I am flattered. You think I could be your rebound girl.”
She reaches out to take the more appealing of the two plates of breakfast. The one the salaryman made for Yoko.
He swivels his hips, handing her the one he made for himself, and smiles. “I think it will be ok in the end; I have to hold onto that.” He touches the stitches in his face. “Every relationship comes with problems.”
She frowns at him. “You better be careful; if she clawed you like that on accident, imagine what she could do if she got mad.” The old lady slams the door closed.
She breathes out. “So young and hopeful. Those claws are marks made by a Yoki; she will never change. And if he isn’t careful, she will kill him.”
The landlady sits in her chair and eats the breakfast. “This is pretty good.”
He opens his apartment door, and there she is, a small fox sleeping soundly. He sets the food next to her and whispers, “Yoko, breakfast.”
She opens an eye and transforms into the pretty girl. Hands coming up to hide her breasts, she turns her back to him, her torso long and white and free of any blemishes.
She slips on his dirty T-shirt and turns back to him, a real smile on her face as she takes the plate of food. She smells it and then devours it.
He watches with a smile, his stomach rumbling. She uses the last of the pancake to mop up the last of the cream cheese whipping. “What about you? Are you going to eat?” she asks, suddenly feeling awkward, but she was so hungry when she woke up.
“No, it’s ok; the landlady snatched mine, but I will get something from the vending machine on my way to work.” he says.
She looks at him concerned. “That’s hardly fair.” She moves close to him, getting on her knees. “I’m still a little hungry.” She smiles up at him, playing so innocent.
He looks down at her, her face looking almost birdlike from above; his cock throbs.
The memories try to fuzz, but Izzy insists. She feels his disapproval at her insistence, but he mentally sighs and gives in.
He feels her delicate fingers on his shorts. She unties the drawstring and pulls them down. Then kisses his boxers. “Can you… help me… with my hunger?” she whispers.
He smirks and shivers slightly at her words. He feels her nose tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers. She pulls them down and smiles up at him. He falls deeper in love with her.
She quickly grabs his cock and strokes it. Her tongue licking her lips. She brings him to her, the precum making them glossy. She opens her mouth and licks the underside.
He trembles. “Oh, oh, that’s so good.” He grabs onto her shoulder for support. She strokes and teases him; she keeps looking up at him expectantly.
He finally figures it out and grabs her hair and experimentally thrusts forward. Her mouth feeling so warm and tight. “Fuck,” he whispers.
She makes an “uhuh” noise around his cock. Then a garbled “rougher.” He complies and pulls on her hair, his cock filling her mouth. He thrusts slowly and deeply, but no matter what he does, she easily handles him. He is blushing, wondering how many others have been with her before him. His cock swells, knowing she can handle him, and he thrusts harder.
The telepathic link is forming; he can feel it behind his eyes, and he suddenly can feel what it’s like to have a cock down his throat. He gags a little before realizing it isn’t his throat.
He can also feel the chains on his wrists and around his neck pulling him away. He can feel her fighting and her growing arousal. He tries not to look down at her and feels the chains relaxing.
He groans. “Yoko.” The sensations are overwhelming. He thrusts faster, and then when she adjusts, he goes faster. The complex emotions of lust and duty and honor and obligation are a mess for him, but shining through is her sincere desire for him to cum in her mouth.
He feels his nuts clench and his prostate squeeze, and he shoots his load into his own mouth. No, into her mouth. It’s so hard to tell with the telepathic bridge. It’s salty and faintly bitter. He feels her swallow happily.
When he is done and she is finished licking his cock, he looks down at her. “How can I return the favor?”
She simply smiles at him. “Tonight, you’re going to repay me tonight.”
“So you will return tonight? So I can take care of you?” he asks her.
“Yes, I promise,” she says, her eyelashes looking so long. His heart beats faster. She kisses him, transforming in an instant, dropping onto the floor, and scurrying out the window.
That day at work the boss yells at him, and it doesn’t matter. He nods his head, playing his role in the corporate hierarchy.
As soon as his first coworker gets up to leave, he quickly grabs his belongings and heads out. His boss is yelling obscenities at him as the salaryman waves to him. “Have a good night, boss,” he says and smiles at the man who drops his briefcase in confusion.
He rushes home excited to see her. He rushes up the steps. Rushing past the landlady, he fumbles with the keys and then opens the door. Inside is empty and quiet; the curtain blows in the wind.
He waits, but Yoko never comes.
